Myles Jones is a 10-Foot Tall Beast Man

I don't know how many people remember the Bill Brasky sketches on SNL. Brasky sketches were a staple of late-90's SNL, a series that featured a bunch of drunks telling tales of Bill Brasky, the presumed apex of all that is man:

Bill Brasky is Duke's Myles Jones. All those things that were told about Brasky -- that Brasky once punched a hole in a cow just to see who was coming up the road; how they found 60 dollars in change in Brasky's stomach; how he once inhaled a seagull; how he once ate the Bible while water skiing; how he drives an ice cream truck covered in human skulls; how his family crest is a picture of a barracuda eating Neil Armstrong; how he framed Roger Rabbit; etc. -- were merely foreshadowings of the existence of Jones. And Jones hasn't even started putting it all together yet. That's what's scary about Jones: He's only a sophomore, and he's still figuring out Division I lacrosse.

In Duke's last four games (against Virginia, Harvard, Syracuse, and Notre Dame), Jones has started to come into his own -- along with the entirety of the Devils' first midfield line -- and has dominated existence like a cat with eyes toward ruling mankind with a despotic fist:

This is insane; Jones is still raw. Let's be clear about Jones' effort against four of the best teams in the nation, performances coming when teams are -- theoretically -- operating at their best given the date on the calendar: (1) He hasn't had a turnover in his last four games despite his brutish style; (2) He's shooting at a high percentage despite putting half of his shots on cage, embarrassing opposing keepers all over the place; and (3) He has carried a notable load for Duke's offense and is providing incredible value for a team stacked with a myriad of weapons.

Jones has been playing at an elite level against elite competition and hasn't scratched the surface of what he's capable of accomplishing. It's only a matter of time before he uses the Shroud of Turin as a golf towel.