His shot is so elegant. He is the essence of a pure shooter. His feet are square. His hands are high. His body and the floor form a perfect right angle. He can stop on a dime and still go straight up. And even when being fouled, which obviously limits his ability to maintain such idyllic physical composition, the mangled forms of his shot shine through. You see each little puzzle piece working tirelessly to make sure the shot remains on target. Some might call it “focus” but I think it comes from something slightly different. It radiates from his confidence. Not just confidence. Charisma. Roger Mason Jr.’s late game heroics are like an unexpected baptism.