The Instagrammer Who Floats Like James Harden and Shoots Like Shaq

James Harden, the Los Angeles Clippers prolific shooting guard, recently scored fifty points in a game for the twenty-fourth time. The next day, Maxim Peranidze, a twenty-six-year-old Angeleno born in Moldova, headed to an indoor basketball court in the San Fernando Valley which he’d rented with his twin brother, Gene. “I was, like, ‘Bet—I got him,’ ” Peranidze said, of Harden. He set to work. The Clippers star has been something of a white whale for Peranidze, who may be the world’s greatest online impersonator of professional basketball players. For one thing, Harden is left-handed and Peranidze is better with his right. For another, it’s difficult to grow a beard like Harden’s, which overtakes the face. Peranidze had ordered a fake one from Amazon. “Like, nine dollars,” he said. Soon, he’d put up a new post on his Instagram account, @MaxIsNicee (a million followers), captioned “Harden Floaters Be Like.” Peranidze nailed Harden’s loping and off-kilter lethality, which he described as “He nice.”

A couple of days later, Peranidze, who is six feet one, was back at the gym with his brother, working on another Clipper. “Zubac easy,” Peranidze said, referring to Ivica Zubac, the seven-foot Croatian center. “I’m good with slow white guys.” He noted his mastery of the reigning M.V.P., Nikola Jokić, and of the likely future M.V.P. Luka Dončić. Peranidze pulled on his Zubac jersey and a white sleeve. He took a minute to plan some moves with Gene, who is three inches shorter, twenty minutes older, and quieter. In Max’s videos, Gene tends to play a generic point guard or a hapless defender. (If a taller sidekick is needed, Max calls his friend Ron Artest III, the son of the former N.B.A. star once known as Metta World Peace.)

“I’m gonna set you a screen,” Max said. Gene nodded. Then Max did a few floppy-armed rehearsal spins toward the basket after setting the screen on an imagined defender. He looked at Gene. “Bet,” he said.

“Bet,” Gene replied.

“G. and me work good together,” Peranidze said. “We don’t gotta talk.”

With a grunt, he rolled off his screen, caught a pass, and just barely flushed it, Zubac style, through the hoop, which Gene had lowered to eight feet. He headed back up the court, arms flailing.

“I told you, he got no control,” Peranidze said afterward. “He goofy.”

Some players chafe at Peranidze’s mimicry. “I did Angel,” he said, referring to a video he made pretending to be the Chicago Sky’s Angel Reese, in heels, a skirt, and a wig. “I think she mad.” He shrugged. But most players seem to enjoy it. When he did the New York Liberty’s Breanna Stewart, she responded with laughing emojis.

He shot some jumpers in the manner of Larry Bird. A request was made from the sidelines for Trae Young. “I saw his dad at All-Star weekend,” Peranidze said. “He was, like, ‘We need a new Trae video.’ I was, like, ‘I got you, Pops.’ ” Peranidze has D.M.’d with Dennis Rodman (“Make. Me. Next,” Rodman wrote) and Mark Cuban (“Love the impressions”), and has FaceTimed with Jordan Poole. “He was, like, ‘Bro, that video of Luka and the G.M. was hilarious,’ ” Peranidze said, referring to his take on the Dallas Mavericks general manager beholding his former star.

“I got jerseys for almost every guy in the league,” Peranidze went on. They’re mostly knockoffs, which he alters with scissors and safety pins if needed. “When guys are traded, I arts-and-crafts their names onto the new team’s jersey,” he said. He swished a three and did Young’s trademark shiver.

A request was made for a free throw à la Shaquille O’Neal. Peranidze pulled a Lakers jersey from his gym bag, where he also keeps a can of sore-muscle spray and his beards and wigs. “I had class with his son in high school,” Peranidze said, referring to O’Neal. “I think we both failed. I know I did.” He turned to his brother: “G., lemme see your phone.” Peranidze briefly consulted YouTube. “O.K.,” he said. “I got it.” He stepped up to the line with his arms awkwardly outstretched and the ball in his fingertips. Clang. He lumbered away.

“Wanna see LeBron?” he asked. “That’s who people think of when they think of me. I walk out in public sometimes and people be, like, ‘Do Bron!’ ” He put on a gray beard—LeBron James turned forty last year—then shuffled backward downcourt, like James, blowing on each hand. “Low key, it helps to wear the jersey,” he said.

His phone rang: his mom. He spoke Russian for a few minutes. “Health insurance,” he said, after hanging up. “I’m bad with that type of shit.” ♦