“With the 22nd pick of the two thousand and twenty one NBA Draft, the Los Angeles Lakers select….Isaiah Jackson of the University of Kentucky,” voiced Adam Silver through my Bose speakers. Unfortunately, he was immediately shipped to Washington as part of the Russell Westbrook trade. As of this writing, I am on a mad search for the DeLorean that makes magic happen at 88 mph. I used to often ponder where I would go if I could travel through time. Meet Jesus? Commiserate with/for the dinosaurs? Naw, I’m definitely going back to August 6th, 2021 and doing everything in my power to wipe that trade from the annals of history. Then a funny thing happened. It’s not anals, damnit! I got a call on the celly and future Son told me to come outside. As the gull wing door lifted up to the sky, I saw future Son frantically wave me hurry up and get in. Before I could click the seatbelt, the back of my head mushed into the headrest like a Tempur-Pedic and zoom, zoom, zoom we went. Stars. Flashes of light. Darkness. They all zoomed by as we raced through time. Then I saw a face. Another. Then another until it looked like an army of ants marching towards a picnic. It was none other than DeUngela Jackson, mother to Isaiah Jackson. I channeled my innermost Nancy Kerrigan and bellowed, “Whhhhhhhhhhhyyyyyyyy?????” How is Isaiah going to help the Lakers get to the Promised Land? We need shooters to surround LeBron James and Anthony Davis. Plus, Isaiah is only 18 years old and only played 20.8 minutes at Kentucky. Naw, Momma Jackson, I’m heading back in time for Kentavious Caldwell Pope and Kyle Kuzma. Excuse me as I eradicate the puke I just swallowed from myself. Well, after last night’s performace, future Son better get his ass back to 2022 because….