[i]It's a funny thing. The line between selfishness and selflessness. It gets very blurry, very quickly in the world I've chosen.[/i] [color=silver]A court. A red team, another team in white and blue. The ball gets poked free, triggering a fast break. A smaller player, dribbles down the court before passing ahead, to a bigger player with a clear path to the basket. ...who steps back and alley-oops it to a third player running through. The opposing team quickly calls time out, with only 45 seconds left. The team which scored goes to the bench, with players exuberant and pushing each other. ...then the smaller player pushes the bigger one harder, again. Then balls up a fist.[/color] [i]Yeah, this could probably do with some context. You see, the little guy over there. The senior point guard. That's Jason Whitlock. Jason Whitlock is an assist behind the alltime record for the Pac-12. This would be his last game.[/i] [color=silver]The punch is thrown. Pandemonium breaks out, the coaching staff run between the two players. Other players also try to break it up.[/color] [i]The bigger guy? That's Darron Robinson. He figured that fifth assist would get him his 5th consecutive 5-by-5 game... basically, since he's already scored well over five points, had over five rebounds, steals and blocks. He figured it'd probably get him on Sportscenter. Let him be seen as a versatile player, and a quality selfless teammate.[/i] [color=silver]The smaller one tackles the bigger and throws more punches.[/color] [i]A couple of guys sharing the ball... in the most selfish way imaginable. Oh... I forgot to mention. They did end up making Sportscenter after all. The five-by-five... yeah, that never came up. Funnily enough there was a bigger story. But let's get away from this...[/i] [center]- - -[/center] [center][img]https://media.cnn.com/api/v1/images/stellar/prod/220123152246-02-gonzanga-john-stockton-covid-19-mask-mandate.jpg?c=16x9&q=h_720,w_1280,c_fill/f_webp[/img][/center] [center]- - -[/center] [i]You see this unassuming little guy, wearing the tiniest, ball-breakingest little shorts you've ever seen? Yeah, that's John Stockton, and he was about the best example of what I used to do that has ever existed...[/i] [color=silver]He drives around and slips a bounce pass between help defenders, where a larger man finishes with an easy dunk.[/color] [i]Not a lot of people remember this, because he played so long it seemed like he was always a great shooter, but when he came in, Stockton wasn't known as a reliable shooter. In fact, it was one of the bigger... ugh... hate this word, but I'm going to use it anyway... [b]concerns[/b] that scouts had regarding him when he came out of Gonzaga. But he knew the game. And was a phenomenal passer. And had a strong work ethic to ensure it kept getting better. His first three seasons he came off the bench, but by the time he became a starter. Well his first season starting he shot 57% from the field. Which is absurd for someone in the role. Before you even realise he came into the league shooting only about 47%. Only three other point guards shot over 50% that year... or were in the top 40 players in the league in shooting percentage. I mean, that's pretty impressive, but I'm going to hit you with an even more impressive number of his, right after I explain the role a little better.[/i] [color=silver]A rebound gets passed ahead to the diminutive Stockton, who pushes the ball up the court with the dribble, before passing it ahead to a running teammate. But the defence recovers, pushing the player to the corner, where he turns his back to the basket and passes it back to the smaller man, who raises a steadying hand and slows the pace. He raises a fist and calls for a high screen and a musclebound giant runs to his aid and makes his presence felt before turning and moving back to the basket. The smaller man uses the larger one's screen to find space and threads another bounce pass between the help defender and his own man who is still somewhat staggered by the solid screen. The musclebound man finishes with a dunk, with a hand behind his head.[/color] [i]See John Stockton is a point guard, and while a lot of other guys are measured in how much they can score themselves, a point guard's measure [b]SHOULD BE[/b] the efficiency and effectiveness that he gets himself and the other four guys on the floor to produce at. So the best number descriptor I can give you for him is one that didn't even really exist when he was playing, its a more modern analytic, so he certainly wasn't padding his numbers trying to reach it... One hundred and Twenty... point five. That was his Offensive rating. In other words every hundred possessions, and lets face it, as the point guard he's generally touching the ball every time down the floor, he averaged out getting his teams scoring a hundred and twenty... and a half... points. Over a twenty year, one and a half thousand game career. Magic Johnson's - I know you know that guy - was about 120.8, and H.I.V meant he never really had to play beyond his prime. In fact most of the players ranked above him are still active, because playing past your prime obviously hurts your efficiency. He played to forty one.[/i] [color=silver]He dribbles around another screen and hits an open twenty foot jump shot.[/color] [i]I mean look at him...[/i] [color=silver]Another bounce pass through a defender's legs to a player cutting to the basket.[/color] [i]He was never the fastest. Couldn't jump out of the gym. Maybe absolutely soaking wet he weighed the buck seventy that he was registered as weighing in at. Maybe. Most of it gristle.[/i] [color=silver]A swing pass to an open shooter, whose defender had gone to help on ball.[/color] [i]He just keeps putting his guys in situations to score. Over.[/i] [color=silver]The musclebound guy hits an open fifteen foot jumpshot, after both players rush the little man off of a screen.[/color] [i]And over.[/i] [color=silver]Another big man tries to come across to defend the big musclebound guy, and Stockton throws a looping pass to a giant seven foot four bearded man under the basket for a dunk.[/color] [i]And over again.[/i] [color=silver]A pass to an open man in the corner for the wide open three point basket.[/color] [i]And hard work, making sure he's ready to make the plays in the situations he puts himself in. That's really all the game's about. Everything else is window dressing.[/i] [color=silver]He hits another sixteen foot jumpshot after their opponents collapse to cut off the passing lanes.[/color] [i]Don't get me wrong, he's pretty much putting me to sleep here too. It's almost hypnotic, isn't it? Pick and roll, bounce pass, mid-range, hit the open man, stick the shot when the close out never comes... It's like I'm watching a metronome. Like someone's forcefeeding me vegetables.[/i] [color=silver]Ball banks in off the backboard.[/color] [i]Wait-- what were we--? I've gotten sidetracked, haven't I. What were we talking about?[/i] [color=silver]Mid range jumpshot. Ball rattles in around the rim.[/color] [i]This is about a party, right? That's what this was all about..?[/i] [color=silver]Another bounce pass off the Salt Lake City hardwood.[/color] [i]Well John Stockton, his game, and his incredibly short shorts are about as far from a party as you can get... I don't know how we got here. Sorry, people! Let's get out. Get to something more present.[/i] [center]- - -[/center] [color=silver]A ball bounces off a parquet floor. Its echo resounds in the empty gymnasium.[/color] [i]Wait, did we--[/i] [color=994F88]"Thanks, Chuck! I'll lock up when I go, yeah!?"[/color] [i]Oh Ok, that's me. We'll leave it here then.[/i] [color=silver]A man in a white suit, and pastel button-up collared shirt, grabs the ball and dribbles it back to the free throw line. He spins the ball back to himself and catches it off the bounce, after drying his fingertips from the leather ball's perspiration in his pockets to not mark his white pants. Two dribbles, and a third over to the left. His eyes never leave the basket, and by now it seems the size of the Atlantic. The set shot hits nothing but the bottom of the net, and he steps forward to collect the ball again, as it's echo once again resonates through the old gym.[/color] [i]Been a long time but this never changes. Any court in the world. Fifteen feet. The bucket - ten feet up. Could do it blindfolded. I have. That's me, Kenny Price. And I should probably have made a move by now.[/i] [i]...well, in a few ways, I guess I should have made a move by now. But we'll get to all that later. This is my life. Has been my life. Everything going on outside of those double fire doors to that gym. And me, working away on the inside, oblivious to it all.[/i] [color=silver]Collects the ball from underneath the basket, and is about to step back to the free throw line.[/color] "K.P. Didn't you say you have that school thing tonight? I mean, it's great havin' you back, but you said it's on a boat. You miss that and-- well--" [color=silver]The man in the white suit checks an expensive watch on his wrist, and nods. He quickly lays the ball in.[/color] [color=994F88]"Thanks, Chuck."[/color] "Lay-up, free throw and three?" [color=silver]The man in the white suit smiles.[/color] [color=994F88]"You know me too well, Chuck."[/color] [color=silver]Dribbles back to the free throw line, and after the same old routine, sends another one to the twine. 'Chuck' takes the rebound duties, and flings the pass out after it goes through the net, as the man in the white suit takes a few steps back and nails a catch-and-shoot three pointer from the top.[/color] [color=994F88]"Thanks again, Chuck."[/color] "Couldn't leave you with unfinished business, now could we?" [color=silver]His smile's much older, more worn and weary than the one Kenny remembers. But still warm with familiarity.[/color] [i]I know what he's doing. He's subtly asking me for something. More to the point, asking me to ask for something. Something that would be deeply embarrassing for me to do. But hey, who am I to say 'No'. I bet the guy won't make it easy for me though...[/i] [color=994F88]"No. We never could before. Not gonna start now. I'll see you 'round again, before I head back, right Chuck?"[/color] [color=silver]The old smile widens. But nobody sees it. Fine leather shoes beat a path across the court and out the double fire doors, which burst open as Kenny heads to his Benz. He quickly gets the S-series moving and cuts a path down to the docks. A small pack resting in the passenger seat containing a change of clothes, bathing suit and stuff for various eventualities. He still didn't know what to expect, it had been a long time since he'd kept in touch with a lot of the people there, and that's just the people there he'd actually know. But he needed a night off, a night out. And with a clear college schedule on the date in question when his mother told him about the reunion, he took it as a sign that it was meant to be. He pulled up the car and saw his brother, Dalton, getting greeted by people, smiles, hugs, kiss on cheek. The twin decided to let his brother have his moment and waited in the car, making a quick check through the contents of the pack again, as if he didn't know everything that was in there already. Once Dalton had walked up the gangplank, Kenny counted to ten before stepping out of the car. Silent prayers kept the alarm from being too obnoxious as he locked the S-Series, white with orange and blue accents, and made his way to where the [i]Thousand Sunny[/i] was moored with his pack. [/color]