“I’ve been here thirty-two years. You know how many of those trophies were won by kids who went pro?”
Leo’s father chose the nod.
There was Marcus, the point guard who had the vision of a chess master but the knees of a man twice his age. He’d torn his ACL sophomore year and never quite came back. He sat on the bench now, an ice pack strapped to his left leg, tracing the playbook with a fingertip he’d never get to use. loossers