This past season, I’ve watched many Minnesota Timberwolves games from the comfort of my own home, where the shame of disappointing losses can be spent quietly sulking and hopeful wins can be shared through texts and phone calls.
Many times, my roommate, a casual basketball fan, will come in and out watching for a few minutes here and there. Whenever he’s around and Anthony Tolliver gets set to shoot an open three, there’s a predicted miss then sudden surprise as the ball swishes in the net.
There’s nothing about Tolliver’s appearance that says “3-point assassin”.