ANDRAY BLATCHE. Hey, thanks for coming to my workout.
ANDRAY BLATCHE. I, um. I made you something. Or, I had someone make it for you. I didn't really care about it.
TEAMMATE. Oh... yeah?
ANDRAY BLATCHE. I didn't even care about it. It's stupid. It's just... I just thought we would need them.
TEAMMATE. Need what?
ANDRAY BLATCHE. I, well, um, it's just some... a shirt.
ANDRAY BLATCHE sheepishly unfurls a tightly-wadded shirt.
ANDRAY BLATCHE. (shakes head) It's stupid. I just decided to make it because... (mumbling) workout.
TEAMMATE. Hmm. Team... building... workout. What does this mean?
ANDRAY BLATCHE. Well, I... I mean, I really care about you guys, and you're my teammate. I thought maybe that this might be a good way for us all to be closer friends and teammates, because I...
ANDRAY BLATCHE. Because I like you guys an awful lot, and I want to be a good teammate.
TEAMMATE. Why did you use the Miami Heat logo?
ANDRAY BLATCHE. I, um.
ANDRAY BLATCHE and his TEAMMATE stand in silence. ANDRAY BLATCHE, visibly uncomfortable, makes a couple of hesitating half-motions toward the shirt before finally taking it.
ANDRAY BLATCHE. Oh, here! You might like this part of the shirt better. I made the back of the shirt. I designed the entire shirt.
TEAMMATE. "Play off"? Why is it two words?
ANDRAY BLATCHE. Oh, whoops, I guess I--
TEAMMATE 2. Hey, what's going on, guys?
TEAMMATE. Hey man. Andray made us these shirts.
TEAMMATE 2. (turns, scoffs) Uh, what for?
TEAMMATE. For the workout.
TEAMMATE 2. This... workout? You made us shirts for a workout?
ANDRAY BLATCHE. Well, for all the workouts we're going to be doing as teammates. I thought it might be nice if we had the same shirts. Thought it...
ANDRAY BLATCHE pauses, and observes his TEAMMATES' suppressed smirks.
ANDRAY BLATCHE. Thought it might... (sighs, mutters) might be fun.
TEAMMATE 2. Might be what?
ANDRAY BLATCHE. Fun.
TEAMMATE 2. Fun? Yeah man, T-shirts are a lot of f***in' fun, man. You know what's fun? When it's a real wrinkled-ass shirt like this. What did you do with this shirt to get it so wrinkled?
ANDRAY BLATCHE. I was just holding it. I guess I was squeezing it pretty tight. I was nervous.
TEAMMATE. Nervous of what?
ANDRAY BLATCHE. I was afraid you guys wouldn't like my T-shirts.
TEAMMATE 2. Damn, man, you were right to be nervous, because there's no way in Hell I'm wearing this shirt. "Play off starts here"? What about multiple playoffs? Are we just gonna play one playoff game and just leave before the series is over?
ANDRAY BLATCHE. I'm really sorry that I messed up our workout shirts.
TEAMMATE 2. They're the worst damn shirts I've ever seen. They're... ah come on, man.
ANDRAY BLATCHE is struggling to hold back tears.
TEAMMATE 2. Alright, I'm just trying to go work out. I ain't trying to see some grown-ass man cry about a T-shirt. (shakes head) You've got to get it together, man. You can't be making silly-ass stupid shirts that nobody's ever gonna care about.
TEAMMATES leave, and ANDRAY BLATCHE stands by himself.
ANDRAY BLATCHE. Guess it's just more shirts for me, then.
ANDRAY BLATCHE attempts to put on the shirt, only to find that he mistakenly ordered the shirt in the wrong size. After struggling to get his head through the neck hole and one of his arms through a sleeve, he gives up.
ANDRAY BLATCHE. Can't even be good teammates with my own self.
ANDRAY BLATCHE sits on a bench, still half-wearing his too-small shirt. He covers his face with another one of the shirts and begins to sob.