I’m always expected to be the life of the party whether I’m on the banana ball field or hosting a team game night on my rooftop terrace. I flash a wide smile, exude endless energy, and share my life and the game I love on social media for the entire world to see. Some say I’m the next big thing in Banana Ball. But I don’t believe the hype.
In fact, I spend most of my free time scrolling through the comments looking for the boost that comes from other people’s praise, while trying to avoid the negative comments that bring me...
TIM
I’m always expected to be the life of the party whether I’m on the banana ball field or hosting a team game night on my rooftop terrace. I flash a wide smile, exude endless energy, and share my life and the game I love on social media for the entire world to see. Some say I’m the next big thing in Banana Ball. But I don’t believe the hype.
In fact, I spend most of my free time scrolling through the comments looking for the boost that comes from other people’s praise, while trying to avoid the negative comments that bring me crashing back down twice as hard.
Then I met Lion. He knows every stat, every play, and every witty one-liner I’ve ever posted. And when he tells me I’m amazing, it brings the same electric buzz that the online praise does, but unlike the falseness that shadows some of the stuff online, our connection feels as easy as a rooftop barbecue.
But Lion’s not just your average cheerleader. His fan vibes come with a sprinkle of obsession. The kind of obsession that has multiple profiles dedicated to hyping up my game. And while Lion’s adorably naive to how that could look to the outside world, I can’t help but wonder if I can trust something that started as a fan crush.
Will Lion’s over-the-top devotion strike out our chance of something real, or can my biggest fan actually turn out to be my heart’s MVP?
