Danny Turner/SI

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  • In honor of TBT, The Crossover digs into the SI Vault each week to unearth a random NBA portrait. Today, a young Devin Harris and his journal. Here's what he (probably) wrote.
By Kenny Ducey
January 05, 2017

Dear Diary,

Life in Dallas is just different. I miss my knit cap, mother's home-cooked soup and Bo Ryan's white hair. Things were just more simple in Wisconsin. It was calm. 

Today at practice, Don Nelson went on a seven-minute rant about Jim Dolan for some reason or another. Not sure who Jim is, but he sounds like a terrible kazoo player and kind of like Plankton, from that show SpongeBob. I also met the owner, Mark. He was a rambunctious fellow, kept challenging the rookies to try to score on him on the way out the door. He could probably give us five charged minutes off the bench at the three with all that energy.

There's a magical seven-footer here who can shoot like our guards. Never seen anything like him before. His name is Dirk. People keep telling me he had frosted tips, but I don't believe them. He's perfect.

Anyway, time to go. I've got to get some shuteye. If there's one room in my house I like, it's this one. Feel like I'm back at home. A twin bed, two lamps and a basketball is all I need in this life.

— Devin

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