We call these guys Billy Hos. They're on the sidelines patiently waiting to get picked up, stretching, doing jumping jacks, and what not. We always underestimate these guys even after we've watched White Men Can't Jump for the 100th time. After he calls next, his teams stay on the court for the remainder of the night because when all else fails his J remains constant. Whether a hand is in his face or wide open, it doesn't matter. All you hear is the sound of the net, no rim.
The White Three-Point Assassin