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Jimmy Fallon is afraid of the Brooklyn Knight and his t-shirt cannon, but is a Nets season ticket holder

Peggy Sirota / GQ

In Apri's issue of GQ, the "Style Bible," Jeanne Marie Laskas writes about her day with Late Night host, and Brooklyn Nets season ticket holder, Jimmy Fallon.

Fallon, who took Ms. Laskas to the Nets-Lakers game back on February 5, of this year, certainly embraces being "one" with the Brooklyn crowd, in that, much like many of you, he's a bit terrified by the Brooklyn Knight and his handheld t-shirt cannon.

From the issue:

We’re seated nine rows back, smushed, taking in the crisp newness of the place, black and white and shiny. "This is so, so great," he says. "A little brew? A plastic cup? A holder right here? Look at this, huh?" He holds his cup up to Gavin for a toast. "De-fense!" he yells. "Isn’t this great? You get to yell, ‘De-fense!’ " It’s a happening he doesn’t have to host, can just sit back and enjoy.

Cheerleaders come out. It seems like hundreds of them all over the court, all wearing hoods. Silver, shiny, scary hoods, like they’re headed to the gallows? "Okay, this is disturbing," Fallon says. "People fighting, flipping around in hoods. I don’t feel safe right now." A guy in silver comes running out with a handheld cannon. Big, white, solid bombs fly out. Pelleted T-shirts. "I hate this," Fallon says. "This cannot be over fast enough for me. No one wants a T-shirt. Back to the game. Oh, God. Oh, my God. I don’t feel safe." He cringes, ducks his head. "This will not be here in a year," he says. "They’re good dancers, but…" The announcer screams, tells everyone to stand up and cheer. "No one’s standing up. See? They need to work on this. This will not be here in a year. It’s a new team. They haven’t figured out what they want to be yet. That takes time…. Wow, I hate this."

A guy behind us taps him on the shoulder, hands him something. A note. Yellow, folded. Passed down from somebody else. He opens the note. "Thank you, Jimmy, for not being a douche front-row celebrity at a Nets game. XOXO, Row 11, Seats 4 & 5." He turns to find them. Two women, heads tilted, mouths agape. "That just made me happy," he says. "So happy. ‘Not a douche.’ "

Yeah, that's pretty awesome. I mean, Row 9? Some of you guys have better seats than that. How does that happen?