beezo318

Noob
Dec 24, 2008
317
1
its amazing how long this thread has been here since i was in the 8th grade now im a college freshman i wish i didnt get so far behind on it i think this story should have a book lol great job lids
 

lids4

Prime Member
Jul 24, 2008
1,682
3
2-part epilogue coming next week which will be the final updates. Thought I'd be able to finish the season but I can't. Thanks to everyone, it's been an amazing 5 years.
 

lids4

Prime Member
Jul 24, 2008
1,682
3
Epilogue, Part 1

Cornelius Cameron left the Golden State Warriors in free agency in 2042 when the Atlanta Hawks surprisingly offered him a near-max contract. He earned two more Defensive Player of the Year awards in Atlanta, giving him a total of three, but never became the franchise player they had hoped. He retired from the Hawks in 2049 and now owns a beachfront resort on Oahu.

LaMarcus Cole never made it back to the NBA, floating through the CBA and a sting as an MMA fighter before landing as a shooting guard for the Soweto Panthers of South Africa’s Premier Basketball League. He became a citizen in 2039, in time to face John Li’s USA team in the 2040 FIBA Worlds.

Michael Eaddy retired from the Golden State Warriors in 2047 with 2 MVP awards and 9 Finals rings--by any definition, a wildly successful career. He was a first-ballot Hall-of-Famer. Never particularly large-living even during his playing days, he settled into a quiet home life with Jennifer and their three children, appearing as a commentator for only a precious 10 NBA games each season.

Keyan Farlander will no doubt be remembered as one of the NBA’s true greats at power forward, averaging double-doubles in 12 of his 13 seasons in the league, shooting over 50% from the field in 10 of them, and over 20 points per game in 10. He also averaged 20.2 rebounds per game in 2041-2042, the first player to average more than 20 since Wilt Chamberlain in 1968-1969. That season was cut short after 48 games, however. Keyan was diagnosed with Ewing’s Sarcoma, a form of bone cancer, and required chemotherapy. After almost a year of fighting cancer and recovering, Keyan returned the following season for the last 52 games, starting 40 of them. He retired from the Warriors in 2047, and was elected to the Hall of Fame in his second year of eligibility.

Frankie Gibson continued to manage John’s publicity until his first retirement from the NBA in 2049. She had her wastrel sister civilly committed after an incident in Monaco involving the Crown Prince of the Netherlands, three barrels of algae paste, and a ham sandwich. Thereafter she became the sole steward of the Gibson family fortune and could always be found writing the first check at John and Diana’s charity events.

Caroline and Gerald Han wed three years after graduating Northwestern and remain happily--and dysfunctionally--married to this day, proof positive that God has a sense of humor.

April Harrington became fast friends with Frankie after they met at John’s 26th birthday party. The two could often be sighted tearing up the San Francisco nightlife and scouting eligible bachelors when Frankie was in town. April took early retirement from her job as an allergist to join Frankie in writing a lifestyle blog and host entertainment segments for Galaxy News Radio.

Namoor Hassan was signed and traded to the Detroit Pistons upon the expiry of his rookie contract in 2039 along with his new brother-in-law, Yitzak Yehudi. They formed the offensive core of a Pistons team that would make deep playoff runs over the next decade, although they never won the Finals. He was one of only three point guards, along with John Li and Jupiter Jones, to average over 10 assists per game every season during this stretch of NBA history. The local kid, jokingly nicknamed “the Mayor” because of his personal popularity, was elected Mayor of Dearborn as a write-in candidate following an influence-peddling scandal there in 2042. He accepted the office and served as Mayor while continuing to play for the Pistons, in addition to his charitable work and frequent trips to the Middle East with Yitzak. Following his retirement from the Pistons in 2047, he was named US Ambassador to Israel, traveling frequently around the Middle East and doing more to heal old wounds than anyone since John Paul II. Elected Governor of Michigan in a landslide in 2052, he improved the state’s K-12 education system to become the second-best in America, behind only Minnesota. In 2060, W.W. Namoor Hassan (D-MI) was the first Muslim to be elected President of the United States.

Jupiter Jones took his Nets to five Eastern Conference championships before his retirement due to ankle injuries in 2046. With one MVP award to his credit, Jones also remained in the top 5 players for annual jersey sales throughout his career. He has yet to be voted to the Hall of Fame.

Richard L. Khan remained owner of the Golden State Warriors through 2062, when he retired in favor of his daughter Wendy. He always preferred to remain in the background, leaving Henry Wilson to handle the day-to-day operations and personnel transactions. His main interaction with the team was the annual start-of-season dinner party at his house, where he and Previn cooked for the players and staff.

Steven Lancer won his first and only MVP award in 2043, and in 2044 won his first and only NBA Finals without Maarek Stele at his side. In time, his sexual assault in Detroit was forgotten and within a few years, the media was comfortable lavishing praise on him again. However, his inability to break the Wilson-Previn-Li Warriors’ stranglehold on the Western Conference damaged his popularity, and his jersey sales never rose above 5th best after 2046. He retired in 2051 and was a first-ballot Hall-of-Famer.

Pierre Previn remains the only coach in human history to win championships in the French league, the British league, the Euroleague, the Olympics, the NCAA, and the NBA. His 9 NBA championships rank 2nd, tied with Red Auerbach and behind only Phil Jackson. Following his retirement in 2049, Previn took US citizenship and became a commentator. Unlike Michael Eaddy, who jealously rationed time away from his family, the bachelor Previn threw himself into broadcasting and was a constant fixture at NBA games for years to come. His cool, insightful, rational dissection of strategy and his pompadour haircut made him immensely popular with viewers.

Diana Stefanik married John Li in August 2039 at a large outdoor ceremony on the Presidio with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background. She was 29 and he had just turned 27. They would go on to have two children and be ridiculously happy for over a decade--but more on that later.

Yitzak Yehudi proposed marriage to his girlfriend, Noor Hassan, and two days later was signed and traded to the Detroit Pistons along with his prospective brother-in-law, Namoor. The Warriors’ 6th man became the regular starter at small forward and made three East All-Star teams at that position. He and Noor were married in August 2041, which caused quite a stir as she converted to Judaism and he renounced his Israeli citizenship in favor of naturalizing in the United States. When he made his first visit back to Israel three years later--along with Namoor--there were two crowd of demonstrators outside the airport, one welcoming him, one condemning him. This would be a continuing feature as these two continued their humanitarian work in the years to come, although as time went by the welcome became warmer and the protesters became fewer.
 
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Mar 23, 2010
3,586
5
Just was at ign for a review of some game and figured I'd log back on to check out if lids ever finished this. After reading the epilogue, I want to [face_cry][face_cry][face_cry][face_cry] Then I read this:












They would go on to have two children and be ridiculously happy for over a decade--but more on that later. Looking forward to part 2 lids
 

Unitas9

Noob
Apr 13, 2012
156
35
I finally finished reading this whole thing the other day. And here are some thoughts since no one asked:

- I don't feel like the entire story line regarding the trouble in Israel really made sense in the grand scheme of things unless perhaps it was just drama for dramas sake. Also I think there were a few times where it was just presumed that everything in that area was exactly the same in year 2029 or whenever it was as it was in 2011. Lids could have really made up whatever he wanted to as having happened over those years.

- I'm really surprised through the entire journey since John was like 14 or something none of the characters really called him out on how selfish he was. Maybe someone on the boards brought this up and I skipped over that part but the struggles he has with making friends for a good portion of the story really comes down to his selfish nature and judgment of those around him. Maybe this was intended by the writer but I found it to make him wholly unidentifiable as a character.

- Just to chime in with what others have said; its rather awesome that this was a free story because I totally would have paid to keep reading after I was through like 3 pages of updates

- Charles Barkley is the best "character" in this story... Hilarious
 

steelers_rule_you

No Longer a Noob
Nov 25, 2005
4,494
398
Oh man I never thought I'd see that day this was finished. Sad times indeed but this is without a doubt among the greatest texts I've ever read.
 

Saints101

Almost Not a Noob
Jun 12, 2009
1,975
2
I still remember the night I stumbled across this incredible story in 2010 and the countless nights I spent catching up. I'm grateful to you lids. You're one of the best writers on these boards, if not the best. And you're also one of the greatest writers I've come across on all the sites I've been on, including VSN and other numerous sights. I'm honored to have been given the opportunity to read this amazing story, and I'd much rather call it a novel, because that's what it felt like. All of us were able to see John evolve over his high school, college, and NBA years and the final product was worth waiting for. He drove himself to become who a 9-time NBA champion. And I'm well aware that this is all fictional, but it felt so real.

Thank you, Lids

[face_applause][face_applause][face_applause][face_applause][face_applause][face_applause][face_applause]
 
Feb 15, 2012
16
4
u people are nuts, this is one of the most wasted internet space ever created, dude lids flips w/e the fuck u call yourself, get a life! get a gf ,bf, something this is just sad spending 5 years on fictional people
 

zello144

No Longer a Noob
Dec 20, 2010
1,185
767
u people are nuts, this is one of the most wasted internet space ever created, dude lids flips w/e the fuck u call yourself, get a life! get a gf ,bf, something this is just sad spending 5 years on fictional people
If you dont like it dont comment....
I enjoyed this story here the man spent years making this
 

binulsik

Almost Not a Noob
Nov 20, 2009
7,231
19
This story.
This story is the reason i signed up for IGN just so I could post and show my support.
This story is the reason I always came back to this board over the years.
I've followed this story at it's start, back in 08. I was in 8th grade, now I'm about to graduate high school.
Now it's crazy to see that it's ending. Thank you for this lids. One of the best things I've read.
 

cbill01

Prime Member
Feb 7, 2007
5,867
49
Michigan
I wasn't around for most of this, but I remember reading parts of this all the time back when this board was at it's prime around 2008, 2009. You're one of the only ones to actually finish a story around here. Kudos to you bro.
 

DeliciousFruitcake

Almost Not a Noob
Sep 26, 2010
1,024
18
Bump. Simply because this thread shall not be locked, purged nor forgotten as one of the most beautifully made topics and stories in the section, and on IGN.
 
Sep 5, 2011
25
0
Wow. I have been following the NCAA boards quietly for about a year and a half now and I ventured over into the 2k boards wondering if there were other chises like Bears (my favorite). I just spend the majority of the last 3 days reading this and I am amazed. As shameful as this sounds, being able to read this will probably be the highlight of my winter break. While my opinion holds no weight because no one knows me but I just thought I would put it out there. Also, I caught the Zeke McCall reference too!
 

Saints101

Almost Not a Noob
Jun 12, 2009
1,975
2
Just saying. Lids, you totally called Steph Curry haha. The entire time during the playoffs, every time I watched the Warriors play, I thought of John LI.

This is a bonafide classic.
 
Dec 5, 2009
131
0
Damn, I guess we never got the second part of thee epilogue. I started following this back in 2009 and lost track before Lids finished, now it seems like these 2k boards are completely and utterly dead. Honestly such a shame. RIP
 
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zello144

No Longer a Noob
Dec 20, 2010
1,185
767
Just crazy how this thread predicted and continues to predict players and trends in the NBA.

LaMarcus Cole= Lonzo Ball, Liangelo Ball, and Lamelo Ball.

John Li= Steph Curry
 
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zello144

No Longer a Noob
Dec 20, 2010
1,185
767
John Li is Jeremy Lin no? Never gave a chance because of his race, caught on eventually, etc?
Yeah just Steph Curry's run with the Warriors in 2015 made me think of John Li a lot. But I agree Jeremy Lin pretty much is John Li he just hasn't had as much success with all of the injuries he's had or won a ring yet.
 
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indefinitegamer

No Longer a Noob
Jun 10, 2018
7,155
5,203
BUMPING THIS. the only thing wrong with this story is that it hasn't been made into a book, or used as nba 2k's MYCAREER mode story. show some love to this man's talent for writing @NBA2K
 

zello144

No Longer a Noob
Dec 20, 2010
1,185
767
BUMPING THIS. the only thing wrong with this story is that it hasn't been made into a book, or used as nba 2k's MYCAREER mode story. show some love to this man's talent for writing @NBA2K

If I ever get put into a position where I get money and I'd start my own video game company get the NBA license and then try to contact lids4 to for permission to use this as the story for the career mode.
 

zello144

No Longer a Noob
Dec 20, 2010
1,185
767
Redemption, Part 1

[image=[URL]http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k284/Garrett7713/Glossy%20NCAA%20Logos%20D-H/HAWAII.png[/URL]] [image=[URL]http://i727.photobucket.com/albums/ww276/chises2k9/John%20Li/ncaa-basketball.gif[/URL]] [image=[URL]http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k284/Garrett7713/Glossy%20NCAA%20Logos%20N-R/northwestern.png[/URL]]

#1 Hawaii Warriors vs #2 Northwestern Wildcats
NCAA Tournament, Championship Game
Staples Center
Los Angeles, CA


Michael’s alarm clock screamed to life at 9AM that Saturday morning. We rolled out of bed, took turns showering, shaving, and getting dressed. Previn didn’t normally require us to wear anything special to games—if there were interviews afterwards, we’d give them in our uniforms and warm-ups anyway to get them over with sooner. But this game was different, and Previn had called for jackets and ties from everyone. It was, I reflected, an added layer of ritual, simply the first step that day of the heightened stage we had reached. In one sense, this was like any other game. It would last 40 minutes. The court dimensions were the same. There would be ten men on the floor and three officials. Even Staples Center wasn’t new to us, as we’d played against North Carolina on that floor two days prior. As always, there would be a winner and a loser. But whereas every playoff game before this was sudden death, a fight to keep our season alive for one more round, now death was a given. Win or lose, our season was over after tonight.

I privately wondered on the elevator down to the hotel lobby whether the Hawaii Warriors were having a similar sensation. After all, they’d been here before. We hadn’t. What was going through their minds as they went about their morning ablutions? Were they thinking about the last time they were here, how they came within one point of unparalleled glory and instead were dealt crushing disappointment?

By 10AM, all of our players had gathered in the lobby in our suits. Jacques herded us onto the chartered bus for our first bus ride of the day. We were, in effect, a tour group now.

Previn was faced with a dilemma because of the 8PM tipoff time. We’d spent ten hours the previous day getting ready for the Warriors, and he didn’t want us to spend hours warming up and shooting around and generally psyching ourselves out for the game. At the same time, he didn’t trust us not to do exactly that if we spent all day cooling our heels in the hotel or wandering around Los Angeles left to our own devices. So he arranged to have us distracted in settings where he could keep us together and organized. Our first stop was the California Science Center, a museum with all sorts of interactive exhibits. Jacques handed out our admission tickets and made us partner or triple up to make sure nobody got lost. Then off we went to enjoy the exhibits. At 1PM we filed back onto the bus, which took us to the 2PM matinee performance of Shakespeare’s Richard III at the Geffen, which I suspect Previn picked for its bellicose and hyper-masculine nature. When Richard came crawling onstage after his horse was killed, Cochrane blurted, “He about to get f***ed up!” Minutes later he was stabbed to death.

Finally, at exactly 5:33 PM PDT, we arrived in the visitor’s locker room in Staples Center and began to dress. We knew there would be a sellout crowd and record television audience watching this game. For the first time in history, international viewers were expected to outnumber domestic ones; the game would be seen in 50 countries by around 30 million people. But all of that was outside. Dressing in a locker twice the size of the one I’d left behind in Evanston, I was alone with my thoughts. So, it seemed, were my teammates. Although we were, perhaps, more businesslike than most college teams in our preparation for play, our locker room was still usually a place of friendly banter. Previn liked that. It got our energy levels and spirits up before game time. But today, it was silent.

Previn broke the silence briefly.

“I’ve never had to give big speeches to motivate you before, so don’t expect me to start now. You all feel inside, I know, but it needs to be said anyway: this is the end. Don’t save anything. You Americans say, ‘Leave everything on the floor.’ Of course, everybody always says that, it’s become pithy. But I think what it means is this: play so that if you lose tonight, you can walk away with your head held high. Play so that if your heart is broken, you will be proud. Play so that in victory, you will know that you earned every bit.

“See you on the floor.”

With that, he turned and walked out into the tunnel.

Slowly, deliberately, I hung up my suit and shirt, then pulled on my gear. Girdle first, with compression shorts over it. Elbow and knee pads next. Then socks. Shorts and jersey next, the white uniform—though we were the lower seed and thus the away team, Hawaii had chosen to wear its colored jerseys. Last of all, my Air Penny X’s. I meticulously laced them up and double-knotted them to the perfect tightness. I had a look in the mirror, carefully tucked my jersey in and drew in the waist on the shorts. My hair was a bit tighter on the sides and longer on top, my face perhaps a bit more oval and cheeks less round, my shoulders an iota broader, but otherwise I looked for all the world like the seventeen-year-old boy who first put on this uniform four years ago. I hadn’t taken nearly so much care in dressing since that very first game—a home match against Harvard. The white uniform then, too. This very same one. This would be the last time.

I snapped on my warm-ups and headed out the tunnel. Normally Maybach and I were the first ones out, but this time everyone was dressed and ready within five minutes of each other. We went through all of our usual pregame—layup line, dunk line (me excluded, instead passing to the cutters), catch-and-shoot at the charity stripe, and so forth. The ritual had been the same for four years. No sense changing it now. Our band and Hawaii’s took turns playing—the same tunes, with few changes, we’d heard all along. Once our band struck up “The Final Countdown,” we knew it was just about tipoff time. The pregame was over—perfect timing. We all gathered at our bench, around Previn.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending tonight’s game between the Hawaii Warriors and the Northwestern Wildcats…”

“Gentlemen,” Previn said as the lights dimmed, “it’s been an honor.”
Redemption, Part 2

“First, the starting lineup for the Northwestern Wildcats, coached by Pierre Previn.”

We five stripped off our warm-ups while the reserves made a corridor for us to run through, slapping hands with them on our run into the spotlight for the last time.

“Starting at one forward, a 6-7 junior from San Francisco, California, number thirty-three, Michael Eaddy.
“At the other forward, a 6-10 senior from Southend-on-Sea, England, number forty-five, Robby Gold.
“Starting at center, a 7-1 senior from Stuttgart, Germany, number thirty-seven, Richard Maybach.
“Starting at one guard, a 6-2 senior from Evanston, Illinois, number twenty, William Howe.
“At the other guard, a 6-1 senior from San Francisco, California, number seventeen, John Li."


That was it. We were on the floor. The spotlight shifted to the other end. Hawaii’s reserves, clad in black from head to toe, made a pulsating circle from which each starter burst into the light when his name was called.

“And now, the starting lineup for the Hawaii Warriors, coached by Thomas Yune.
“Starting at one guard, a 6-3 sophomore from San Jose, California, number twenty-three, DeAundre Washington.
“Starting at forward, a 6-7 sophomore from Schofield Barracks, Hawaii, number seven, Stanley Howard.
“At the other forward, a 6-10 sophomore from Waipio, Hawaii, number eighteen, Peter Perseo.
“Starting at center, a 6-10 senior from Pusan, South Korea, number thirty, Kim Chen-Song.
“At the other guard, a 6-3 senior from Honolulu, Hawaii, number ninety-eight, Cornelius Cameron.”


There he was in all his glory, Afro high and proud, muscles hanging out everywhere. He spotted me, smirked, and gave the most miniscule nod. We two would play a game within the game, a ceaseless duel in the midst of a larger five-on-five conflict. We would never switch off, never leave each other, never leave the floor except together. There would be no respite, no quarter given, no mutual relaxing of effort even for a moment. Our fates were linked.

The lights came up. Our band struck up “Hot Time in the Old Town.” Maybach and Kim stepped to halfcourt for the tipoff. Cameron wiped the heels of his shoes. Gold cracked his knuckles. Howard blew into his cupped hands. Howe bounced on the balls of his feet. The official stepped out, holding the ball right in the middle of the “NCAA Final Four” logo. Maybach and Kim got down in their stances, waiting for the tip. It was up. They leapt. Kim tipped it to Washington. Hawaii got the opening possession.

Howe met Washington as he advanced the ball, while I stayed a few feet in front of Cameron, walking up the opposite sideline as the outlet man. Washington called the play, and Cameron took up position at the far corner. Now I went into denial defense mode, turning my side into his and leaning my weight into him, extending an arm across the front of his torso which he kept trying to push down. Cameron shucked me with a hard push from his palms and raced along the baseline; I was just a half step behind. Perseo set a screen for him. I saw it and went around, running out of bounds and almost hitting the basket support as I did so. Cameron caught the ball eighteen feet out and faced me up. I shaded him with my left foot forward, daring him to go to his left—his weaker hand. He pump faked. I didn’t bite. He fired the jump shot. My contest was late. Swish.

“Cornelius Cameron!”

Hawaii drew first blood.

I took the inbounds pass from Gold and brought the ball up. Cameron met me as soon as I crossed halfcourt, playing right up in my chest. I knew the only way to get him to back off was to drive around him, but that was easier said than done, especially since I was already dribbling. I called for a Guard Wave at the right wing, and Gold came over and set the pick. Cameron saw it, and elected to go under the pick. That gave me enough space—for a half a second, anyway—to fire a three, but that wasn’t the point of this exercise, and we needed better shots than that to win. Cameron was right up on me coming off the other side of the pick, but after three steps I let my right (non-dribbling) shoulder impact on Cameron’s sternum, then spun off him. I came back around from the counterclockwise spin, took the ball in my right hand, and dashed into the lane before Cameron could react. Kim cut me off, leaving Maybach open. Once Kim committed to me, I zipped Maybach a no-look bounce pass, and he cut behind Kim for a tomahawk dunk.

“Richard Maybach!”

The rest of the first half proceeded in a similar fashion. The next time I tried to use that spin move, Cameron poked the ball loose, scooped it up, and threw in a dunk before anyone knew what happened. Cameron guarded me a bit more loosely after getting his ankles broken, but that actually made matters worse because he found the right distance where he could react to both drives and shots in a timely fashion. I played him just a bit looser because his jumper wasn’t automatic the last time we played, but out to 20 feet or so he now was. I had to keep a hand in his face at all times from midrange, and he took advantage with pump fakes. I was usually disciplined enough not to commit to more than a disruption, but on two occasions, Cameron got me out of my stance, then went baseline and threw in a reverse dunk.

Cameron played off the ball most of the time, so I spent most of my time on defense grabbing his jersey between the numbers, chasing him around screens, and pushing him out of the post. If nothing else, I at least had to keep a bent arm on him at all times, with the back of my hand on him and with a bent wrist to avoid getting called for a foul. When I was on offense, I had to use picks in order to dribble anywhere inside the arc; Cameron was quick enough that if I tried to drive on him I’d smack into his 245-pound body and bounce off.

At halftime, the score was 51-50 Hawaii. Neither team had led by more than five points. Cameron and I had played all 20 minutes without any rest. As we went to the locker rooms, the commentators jawed:

“Well, we’ve seen the best two players in the country going at it tonight. Of the battles these two have had over the last few years, this one is shaping up to be the greatest. Could we be witnessing the start of a Magic-Bird type rivalry here?”

“You know, it’s so tempting, I mean, who wouldn’t love to see these guys going at it for the next ten years? And like Magic and Larry, to have it start in college adds something. But let’s be honest, these guys are not going to be NBA stars. Their time is now, and they are absolutely making the most of it.”
Redemption, Part 3

I didn’t realize how much my body ached until I sat down in a rolling chair in the locker room. That’s when I noticed that my quads were on fire, probably pumped full of lactic acid from my exertion. My shoulders were burning, too, and I had dull aches in all of my joints.

“This is what we expected,” Previn said. “Close game, they’re fighting like hell, we’re fighting like hell. One adjustment only: John, we need to get you moving without the ball. Make sure you call a couple of our 3-point plays for you and iso plays for Michael. If we need a postup play, let William or Matt make the entry pass.”

On our first play after the half, Eaddy isolated on the wing, hitting me with a bounce pass as I raced off a screen by Howe. I tossed in a layup as Cameron got caught on the pick, bowling Howe over in the process. A possession later, I returned the favor with an alley-oop pass to Eaddy right over Kim’s head. Cameron thought it was a pump fake and didn’t contest the pass.

After Kim blocked a Maybach dunk attempt, Washington snagged the rebound and fired it ahead to Cameron at the head of the break. I was the first to make it back on defense, with Dessay just a step behind me. Dessay tried to cut Cameron off, but Cameron took a deft in-and-out move and simply stepped around the big man. That left me between him and the basket…and he hadn’t seen me because Dessay’s body was in the way. With Cameron out of control, I set my feet, covered my privates with my hands, and waited. A split second later, he hit me. It was like being run over by a Mack truck. The base of my skull hit the floor with such force that I expected to have a bruise for weeks.

“Offensive foul on number ninety-eight, Cornelius Cameron. His third.”

With ten minutes to go and the score tied 77 all, neither Cameron nor I had spent a second on the bench. When Hawaii called their first timeout of the game, I could see Cochrane stewing in his warm-ups, rocking back and forth in his seat. After Previn gave us a little pep talk, I saw Cameron marching back onto the court. I looked over at Cochrane and shook my head. Your time will come, young man, but it is not now. With that, I retucked my jersey and walked back into the game.

Previn had predicted that the Warriors would fight us to the very end. He was vindicated. The last five minutes saw ten lead changes, and both coaches used up all their timeouts. Finally, with 37 seconds to go, Stanley Howard hit a three-pointer right in Michael Eaddy’s face to make the score 100-99 Hawaii. With no timeouts, I’d have to take the ball the length of the court and call a play. Cameron was waiting.

He wasn’t going to gamble for a full court press, shadowing me at a couple feet’s distance until I crossed halfcourt. I expected a trap. It didn’t come. The Hawaii defenders were grabbing Eaddy and Spoerlis’ jerseys between the numbers, so passing to them was not a preferable option. Maybach and Gold were pushed out of the post, in positions where they were unlikely to get good shots. That left me.

I gave the signal: isolation. My teammates cleared out to the arc, taking their defenders with them. Cameron didn’t have to look behind him to know what was happening. There would be no help defense and no picks. It was him and me.

With the clock at eleven, I began advancing closer to the key from the left wing, a series of three between-the-legs sizeup dribbles. Cameron gave ground, but closed the distance between us by a couple of inches with each step. With five seconds left, I made my move. I smacked my right elbow into Cameron’s right shoulder and spun off him to my left, coming back around on the right of him with the ball in my right hand. As soon as my shoulders came around I dug my toe into the floor and exploded down the lane, as Cameron was still turning to catch me.

Just as my right foot left the floor to elevate for the layup, I was jerked abruptly from behind and toppled to the ground onto my right side, my jersey pulled out and slightly torn, and I heard an anguished cry from behind me. Whistles blew. Gold helped me up, gingerly.

My right arm, from the shoulder down to the wrist, felt like it had just been crushed in a vise. My right hip was throbbing. I saw Cameron hiding his head in his hands, and realized what had happened. He knew he was beaten, and stopped the layup the only way he could. He fouled me—hard.

“The foul is on number ninety-eight, Cornelius Cameron. His fourth, seventh team foul. John Li at the line with two shots.”

I stepped to the line, tucking my jersey back in, fixing my right elbow pad, pumping my right arm a couple of times to limber it up and get some of the pain to go away. I glanced at the scoreboard. Still 100-99 Hawaii. With 0.09 seconds left, there would be no more plays. This was the game.

“Now, at the line John Li. He is a 94% career free throw shooter, but Justin, what a lot of people don’t realize is that as a senior in high school, he missed two free throws that eliminated his team from the playoffs. You gotta wonder if the pressure’s gonna get to him.”

“It’s all John Li now. No defense, just you and the basket. Settle down, young fellow. Show ‘em what you’re made of.”


As the official passed me the ball, the Hawaii faithful—roughly half the sold-out Staples Center—stood up and began to roar and pound the seatbacks. I did what I always did. I tucked the ball against my right hip, took a deep breath and relaxed all my muscles, focused on the rim and imagined the ball dropping through it, then took my left heel back three inches, bent my knees, and got a shooter’s grip on the ball with the finger pads of my right hand, the left alongside as a guide. Smoothly, unhurriedly, I brought the ball up, thrust from my legs, and released the shot with a snap of the wrist, my index finger left pointing at the rim. The ball dropped through, nothing but net.

100 all.

The Northwestern fans shouted “woosh!” and then the arena was silent for a moment. I brought my feet back to parallel on the line again, and the official passed me the ball for my second shot. The Hawaii fans came into full throat now, louder than before. I’d never heard anything like it. Between their screaming and pounding the chairs, it was literally impossible to hear anything. I even couldn’t hear DeAundre Washington talking trash to me from two feet away. What’s more, I’d swear I could literally feel the vibrations from the chair-pounding in my bones.

No matter. Same ritual. Same breaths. Same shot.

“And the shot is…good! That’s it! It’s all over! The Northwestern Wildcats are your N-C-Double-A 2033 National Champions!”

Result: W, 101-100

[image=[URL]http://i727.photobucket.com/albums/ww276/chises2k9/John%20Li/northwestern.jpg[/URL]]

Probably the best post ever. Fuckin goosebumps
 

zello144

No Longer a Noob
Dec 20, 2010
1,185
767
The Nth Degree, Part 2

There in that playoff game was the great Chris Paul, a guy about my height with a lot less strength, dominating the game. He was over forty years old at the time, yet he darted around defenders with sick spins, crossovers, jukes and moves of all sorts, making them look silly. But what really got my attention was how he put the ball in the basket once he beat them. I hit “record” and captured the rest of the game.
Watching the finals and seeing Chris Paul made me think of this thread.