‘What the hell are you guys doing?” Phog Allen said in horror as his eyes nearly fell from their sockets at the site of the basketballs. ‘You’re just gonna walk away from the game?!’
‘No, we’re gonna get back to our real lives,” Holman replied.
‘Basketball is your lives!’ Phog Allen said rushing over to check on me. ‘Basketball is what made you who you guys are.’
‘Maybe for you and Naismith,’ Lapchick said. ‘I don’t want to end up alone in a blank room as a fuckin’ basketball just waiting to finally deflate.’
Phog Allen examined each of the new basketballs, puzzled at first by the letters in their sides, then slowly realizing what they symbolized. As if his previous anger had never existed, he turned to the four beaming with excitement.
‘Yes! You know what this means don’t you!’ Phog Allen asked in a high pitched shrill of exuberance. ‘You get to pick the next generation of legends!’
‘What?’ they asked in unison.
‘Oh, it makes so much sense now!’ Phog Allen exclaimed now somewhat comically jogging around the room. ‘Naismith’s invitations, Banks’s letter, the engravings, Good Lord! how could I be so dumb, how could I not have understood this earlier!’
‘Alright, alright, slow down old man, you’re getting kind of foggy here,’ Holman said. ‘Banks’s letter? The engravings?’
‘Ok, I’ll back up,’ Phog Allen said pumping the brakes on his madly accelerating car. ‘Before Banks died he left a note to me in my office. All it said was, ‘I belong to the Celtics, but then there will be two legendary kings, one reluctant for the throne, one hungry for it, one chosen by me and one the self proclaimed chos...
Article Source: Bleacher Report - Los Angeles Lakers
