“Next basket wins.”

The other guy played college ball—on TV. I’d been cut from my high school’s squad the previous fall. When I’d asked for a one-on-one game in the decrepit, steamy gym, he laughed and said, “Sure. I’ll embarrass you in front of your friends,” pointing to my buddies.

But his overconfidence made him sloppy, and I hit some lucky shots. Tie game. I now had his attention.

He stole the ball from me with embarrassing ease, fired a game winner – and missed.

One chance.

I faked a drive to the basket, faded into the corner and heaved a prayer.