An Open Letter to Kosta Koufos

Dear Kosta Koufos,

Before we go any further into the meat of this letter, I wanted to take the time to introduce myself. Considering there is a forty-five to fifty-five percent chance that you have either read something I put online about you it's best we get on some common ground before I see you in person one day soon and you put me in the hospital with a flick of the wrist. There could also be a good chance that you just could care less with whatever I say to you or about you and personally that would probably be the better route.

My name is Keith and I've been a Kings fan since forever. I want to start this by saying between the two of us there is more in common than you may think. You're Greek and i'm half Greek (like a Mexi-Greek), you have an s at the end of your last name, I have an s at the end of my last name. You have facial hair, I've tried to grow facial hair.

I wanted to tell you at least once in this letter that i respect that you play for the Kings, and from everything I have seen other fans post with you involved that you seem like a nice dude from the outside. That counts for something seeing as how I've met countless players that have either stiffed me or have been a complete meanie to me or people I was around. You played with a finger twice the size of a normal one! You gave the greater good of your finger up for the team! That counts for something.

If i'm going to be fully honest in this letter you're a decent rebounding big man who can really play some good defense when you are set. I'm not going to call you underappreciated like Carmichael Dave did on Twitter. But I appreciate you to an extent.

Unfortunately Kos-Kos this is the part of the letter where I have to throw up my own version of a bricked bunny hook and likely take a wrecking ball to our possible friendship. It's been fun bonding with you for these past three paragraphs but my friend watching you play for this long has left me with no choice. So long to this friendship we've had but unfortunately we have come to the end of the road.

Koufos, the question isn't what I don't like when I watch you play, the question is more so of WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN!!?!?!?

LETS START WITH THE HAIRCUT.

Listen as a guy who finds it weird listening to another man discuss a guys looks i'm going to admit this is hypocritical of me. There is this huge elephant in the arena and i'm sure no one is going to tell you the truth because they don't want to make you mad. But I'm going to have to be the guy to break this to you. You have to shave your head man.

You're out there battling down there in the paint, jockeying for position with Marcin Gortat looking like George Costanza in the Christmas card episode of Seinfeld.

Maybe you have this thought, or belief, in your mind that it'll grow back one day. Maybe you don't want to come to grips with saying goodbye to it for good. Hell my Pops is going through the same thing and he swears that he's rocking a full salad up there. I'm not telling you this to make fun of you, i'm trying to help you. Break out the clippers, sit in the chair, tell the man you want that Mr. Clean special, and chuck up the deuces to the mini Ben Franklin cut.

The haircut doesn't even do justice to your role as a player on the offensive side of the floor. I'll break this down so you understand just what my gripe (or gripes) are.

First off I want you to know that I get it. You're not very quick of foot and often times it seems that you possess the reflexes of a dead cat. No one is perfect my friend. But I'll be damned man watching you with the basketball has aged me at least ten, twenty years at least. The minute I see you get the rock it's like that scene in Boyz in the Hood when Cuba Gooding Jr. screams "Ricky!" and Morris Chestnut takes off running. I honestly get so scared because I don't know what's going to happen next. It's like the sports version of Russian Roulette. And sometimes that's a good thing, you never know what will happen when LeBron gets the basketball. But with you KK, I REALLY don't know what's going to happen.

Maybe you'll drop the ball and lose it out of bounds, maybe the ball will hit you square in the face, you might trip over yourself. I'm amazed sometimes at the outcomes of these possessions with you handling the pill. It's like giving a ten year old a firecracker and lighting it in the kids hand. My God you give me anxiety when you have that basketball.

Alas every player has a signature move in their arsenal. Curry has the step back three, LeBron has the straight arm tomahawk dunk, and you have your patented hook shot. I call it patented because that hook shot of yours Special K never ceases to disappoint.....in a bad way. The scene never fails to let me down. You get the ball around the top of the key, probably will drive to your right. With that big frame of yours it would be so easy for you to probably drive to the rim and attack the basket. But why do that ? Where's the excitement in all of that? So you say to hell with that plan and just decide on jacking up that patented hook shot. Will the ball go in ? HELL TO THE NO IT'S NOT GOING IN!!! IT'S NOT EVEN HITTING THE RIM IN SOME CASES!! If someone pointed a gun at my head and said that you had to make one hook shot for me to live I'd tell the guy to just pull the trigger and put me out of my misery on the spot.

But this is the strange thing about you. You're like a musician with that hook shot, it comes in all different forms and shapes. Like a Baskin Robbins of hook shots. My favorite is when you're three, four feet away from the basket. You probably could go up strong and dunk the ball, but alas where is the fun in doing the sensible thing? That's when you hit em' with that ultra soft, tear drop, floater of yours. So smooth, and so SOFT. How can one person miss from so close to the rack so many times? You hit everything but the bottom of the net. I wonder if you ever know you're that close to the hoop. I mean it's a fair question because sometimes none of us know what you're doing from that close to the tin just trying to drop the ball into the hoop like its one of those ring on the floating duck games at a carnival.

In Conclusion my friend (ex friend probably after this), I hope this message finds you well. Just know that none of this is said out of spite or bad will. You're pretty cool outside of the arena from what I see, but I wrote this so you know i'm honest with you. I'm sure before your time is up there will be more to witness from you, the Greek Floater. Until then have a great season, and a Happy Holidays.

Sincerely,