RIP NBA Twenty Sixteen (2016–2016)

A brief obituary for a wonderful NBA year, gone but not forgotten

Twenty F. Sixteen died suddenly on Saturday night, December 31st, 2016, at the stroke of midnight from injuries sustained in a gruesome collision of Russell Westbrook’s first-half triple double, Giannis Antetokounmpo’s near 5x5, and James Harden’s absurd 53/17/16. Doctors tried to save him but the ball had already dropped and just like that, with a countdown from ten to one, he was gone. He left, as Bill Raftery would say, “with a kiss!!”

Sixteen lived a brief but robust life. He was born January 1, 2016, a warrior at a staggering height of 30–2, borne out of a difficult home with a fallen Philadelphia star clanging shots on one side and his hometown losing everything on the other. But Twenty quickly rose above his humble beginnings with a shout and a 37-point third-quarter outburst. His second month was haunted by nightmares of unimaginable human feats and by strange green and pink dragons, but like, the best kind of nightmares.

Later that month, Sixteen celebrated what he would later call the greatest otherwise mundane moment of his life, a thunderous occasion curried by 12 exclamation marks including a final one from halfway across the nation that sunk a dagger into Chesapeake hearts and sent the world into a frenzy.

Sixteen labored through a defensive March, spurred on toward a playoff push, but one great final day resounded with a bang. In one moment, Sixteen saw himself grow to never-before-seen 73–9 heights, yet no one even noticed because his dying great, great grandfather took out his Gatling one last time and sprayed his shot all over the place, hitting 60 on his final 50 shots as All That Jazz played softly at his passing.

In May, Sixteen briefly considered moving to Canada before coming to his senses and steering back toward the Land. It was a tumultuous sixth month as Twenty experienced not one but two near-death experiences, as his incredible 73–9 frame was shot down like a repeated kick in the balls. Doctors gave him no better than a 3-to-1 chance of survival and at the last second, the greatest surgeon in all the Land swooped in from out of nowhere to block the virus and save everyone and everything forever.

July saw Sixteen back at the hospital for a shock transplant many had predicted but few thought would actually happen, removing a few of the ugliest hairs on his head and replacing them with one of the greatest living pieces like that was some sort of fair trade.

After so much trial and tribulation, it was time for a vacation for Twenty and many of his friends, who traveled over A Thousand Miles to Brazil in August for a worldwide showcase. There they struggled early on but rose to victory as a whole country cheered them on.

After two months of rest, Sixteen was finally ready to try out his new transplant but it sputtered with a loud thud on opening night and many wondered whether it was all really worth it and turned their attention elsewhere. There they found an ancient bearded wonder, a Gumby-like Freak, a young KAT surrounded by many friends, and a giant Lativian Gangbanger (copyright Michael Rapaport). And most of all, they found a tiny cannonball who made up results nightly like a giant paint-by-number and looked ready to take down the Big O or die trying.

Twenty Sixteen is survived by one parent, the forever-terrible 76ers; by aging grandparent Paul Pierce; sibling Twenty Seventeen; by a litany of giant children Freak, Zinger, Process, KAT, Brow… (the list goes on); and by one great, great, words-cannot-simply-describe-how-great grandson Russ.

He was preceded in death by Kobe Bryant, Kevin Garnett, Tim Duncan, George Karl, the Jordan crying face, 3–1 jokes, and the legend of Steph Curry.

Memorial services will be held tonight and nightly throughout much of winter and spring. Sixteen will find his final interment at the hands of a familiar surgeon and his sidekick this June, transplant and all.

Twenty Sixteen was a glimmer of hope and entertainment in an otherwise dismal time as the quagmire of orange gloom hung over our heads. He is gone but will never be forgotten.

Sixteen’s final words were brief and simple but would echo through the ages: “Trust the process.”