Taco Tuesday

August 20, 2019

Anyone who deems themselves a shooter needs to be put to the test. After a few days on set, LeBron begged the question: Who was the best shooter in the gym? And could they take down The King?

LeBron had his own private court that Warner Bros. created for him, and he invited us all to shoot one morning. The catch: call times were at 7am... so we were looking at a 5am alarm in order to do so.

We couldn't wait til 5am the next day. People were already chirping. LeBron looked over at the Goon Squad and asked who the best shooter on the team was. Everyone looked at me.

The day wore on, business as usual, until LeBron got up to shoot a particular scene. He was shooting around and waiting for the director to get settled.

He called out my name. 

“Alright Kornet. It’s go time.”

I looked up, and smiled. Oh boy. I hadn’t touched a ball since I graduated, but here goes nothin. 

The first game was simple— five shots from five spots. He won three games, I won two. He got me.

The next game we decided to up the ante. We had to make each shot from each spot in a row to advance to the next spot, and if you didn't... you went back a spot. 

That was confusing. Let me break it down for you:

From the baseline you had to make your first shot to advance.

From the wing, you had to make two in a row to advance.

From the top of the key, you had to make three in a row to advance.

From the opposite wing, you had to make four in a row to advance.

From the opposite baseline, you had to make all five in a row to win.

If you miss any shot at all, you immediately go back to your last spot.

LeBron got off to a hot start and made it all the way to the top of the key, until he missed his last shot and went 3 for 4.

My turn.

I missed the first shot.

His turn.

He went two for three.

Time to work my way back.

Swish.

Swish. Swish.

Swish. Swish. Swish.

He's in my ear. Side by side with the big fella.

I miss.

Back to Bron.

He makes his way to the opposite wing. 3 out of 4.

Okay, Kornet. Focus.

I make three in a row.

On to the wing!

I make one, then two, and then the Second AD comes over.

"Alright, guys, let's clear the court. We need to get rolling."

"No, no, no. She’s feeling it right now. Give us a few more minutes," replied LeBron.

I make the third shot, and then the fourth.

Last spot. Five more and I take the crown.

I make the first one. Net the second one. Hold the follow through on the third, turn to LeBron and look him dead in the eyes...

"Did that go in?”

It rattles in and he retorts back, “Ooh you were scared, though, huh??”

I square up for the fifth and final shot. As soon as it left my hand I took off straight to center court Steph Curry style.

Cash.

Everyone went nuts.

All one hundred supervillain extras stampede the court. The cast, crew and anyone with legs came running towards me with arms open wide.

LeBron, too, gave credit where credit was due, and dapped me up. 

"12 in a row, not bad."

One of the prop guys pulled me aside and handed me the coveted silver ball.

“Keep it.”

"And get him to sign it too!"

"Woah, woahhhh woahhhh," clapped back LeBron. "The series is even now. She's not getting a signature until she truly tops me."

As soon as we wrapped at 8pm, LeBron challenged me again. He was in his flip flops, until I started feeling it. The flip flops came off, and the laces came on.

We probably went back and forth for 45 minutes and shot 100 shots going 90 for 100 from 3. Neither of us hardly missed.

Until I didn't.

And beat him again.

Just for kicks, we decided to do another round. This time off the dribble.

(I won that one too).

Before we left, LeBron told me we had to end on a make. I tossed up an NBA three from the wing. 

Cash.

The basketball gods were with me that evening.

As we were making our way back to our trailers, LeBron snagged the ball from me, and finally signed it.

As I was making my way to base camp, I was getting congrats from left and right from people on different stages who weren't even a part of the Space Jam production.

LeBron's bodyguard saw me and let out an “Oooo girl, you earned that signature!”

LeBron heard all of the hoopla from his trailer, peeped his head out, and yelled out for me to come in.

“So you out there boastin’???”

I walked in, took a seat on his couch, crossed my legs, and said with a smile on my face, "Just wait til I can post about it."