Among Giannis Antetokounmpo’s array of aliases is ‘The Alphabet,’ and I am about to allow you to ascertain why.
Although a is atop the Anglo alphabet, the Athenian Antetokounmpo is an absolute alpha. An accomplished athlete with ample All-Star accolades, he ably annihilates his adversaries altogether. He amazes audiences and aficionados, accumulating ardent admiration across all arenas.
He’s a beast by the baseline and below the basket, barreling by bevies of blockers before bombastically burying the ball in the bucket. Besides his behemoth of a body, he boasts a brain built for basketball. The Bucks are bemoaned as bullies from the Bay Area to Brooklyn because they bruise backsides black and blue.
They control their conference without compunction or consideration for casualties. This cohort consistently clobbers the Cavaliers and has even creamed the capable Clippers. Antetokounmpo casually carries his crew as a captain with complete command on the court.
Daring to deny Antetokounmpo is dumber than disturbing a dormant dragon. Demoralizing doesn’t describe what he does to defenders, decimating them like Dodge Durangos in a demolition derby. He dumbfounds doubters, doling out dunks and double-doubles.
Every encounter ends entertainingly with the electric Antetokounmpo in his element. He elevates effortlessly, extending his enormous extremities even when encircled by enemies.
Flying from the floor, Antetokounmpo is forced to flip in a floater as his flummoxed foes fruitlessly foul him. Forget flopping — the fantastic forward falls feet-first, then flexes his physique, firing up a fieldhouse full of fervent fans.
Gaze and gasp at the Grecian’s glow-up from a gritty go-getter with glimpses of growth to a guaranteed great. His gameday getup is green, but he glitters like gold, guaranteeing gaping and gawking when gliding to the glass.
He hammers the hoop, holding hard with humongous hands. This human highlight has the hops, handles and hustle to habitually humiliate those who hope to hinder him.
Impeding Antetokounmpo and incurring his ill will is inherently inadvisable. Imposing his ire is no isolated incident. Instead, it is an individual instance in an infinitude of irascibility.
The juvenile giant jumps like Jordan and jams like Jabbar. This king-size kid knows no Kryptonite. L, as in losing, laziness or lethargy, is a letter from a long-lost language to Antetokounmpo. He leaps for layups like a leopard but lands lightly like a leaf.
Many in Milwaukee may maintain morose memories of mediocrity. Antetokounmpo magnanimously makes their minds merry with a multitude of masterful maneuvers that manifest while manhandling the Magic or Mavericks.
He is proficient in piling up points as passes pour in. Antetokounmpo’s powerful presence penetrates the paint without pause, pummeling poor players protecting the post.
He is equipped with the quintessential qualities to quickly quash his opponents quarter after quarter of every quarrel. This may sound quixotic, but I question if even quarantine or quiet crowds could quell Antetokounmpo.
While running, Antetokounmpo rambles and rolls recklessly through his rivals, be they Rockets or Raptors. He reaches round en route to the rim unrestrained, which he regularly rattles relentlessly.
Sure, stopping someone from scoring sounds simple enough. But see a sample of Antetokounmpo’s sneaky step-back shots or staggering slams and you’ll suddenly surmise why so many struggle to stymie him.
Taking the MVP trophy twice in a two-year time frame is totally tenable for the titan, thus Antetokounmpo’s team will tear through the tournament toward a title. Until unseated by an unequivocally unparalleled unit, the Bucks will ultimately prove unstoppable. Verging on victory, they are a violent viper whose very venom is vested in Antetokounmpo’s vastly valuable versatility.
Weakness and weariness are wicked words to Antetokounmpo, who wills his way to winning weekly. It’s no wonder why this workhorse wows watchers worldwide.
While I extol his exhilarating and extraordinary feats, such are the expectation for Antetokounmpo. Were he an extra terrestrial, I would exude xenophilia. Whatever is yielded by yonder years, I will always be yelling “Giannis!” as I yearn to see this youth zealously zooming from zero to zenith.