As someone who lives in DC and frequents Wizard games with some regularity, I want to tell you all about these two guys:

Our friend in the jersey went through every emotion imaginable during this game. He loves the Wizards so much he still has his gold Gilbert Arenas jersey tucked away in the back of his dresser and maintains that Richard Hamilton is underrated. He’ll never forget the day got to see Michael Jordan lace up IRL. He was only 10 years old but he’ll tell his kids about that one. This was the precise moment, however, when he was struck by the inevitability of the Wizards losing this game. The ball didn’t even need to leave LeBron’s fingers — he could feel it in his bones. This is an image of him coming to the realization that he was going to walk out of the arena with the same belief with which he entered; there was much higher probability he’d see LeBron James do something magical than the probability of building his confidence the Wizards would make it out of the first round in the playoffs this year.

Old Money DC in blue shirt and blazer is actually far less confused than he looks. He’s had those seats since he came back to DC from Detroit in 1983 for the Reagan Revolution. (He had to skip town in ’73 when he almost got tangled up in some shenanigans during the Nixon administration.) He misses Bernard King and Jeff Ruland, and has a wealth of Gheorghe Muresan jokes that never get old. He’s still pretty upset about the Bullets name change and cites it as further evidence of the politically correct culture that is destroying America. When some one told him he pronounced “LeBron” like it was the name of a Spanish restaurant on K Street he decided to just mumble it or say “that guy”. His grandson, Thatcher, thought about coming up to DC for this game but couldn’t get away from his studies at Duke.