Half Court Press [Crash the Boards Sequel]

Friends and Foes.

Zaria

"I mean how could they let this fly in the NBA?"

I turned toward the television that's sitting high in the corner of the lobby before placing my Albert French novel down. The screen held a picture of Allen as a panel of older vets talked amongst themselves.

The summer season is finally coming to a end and by the grace of God, the possible trade of Allen was denied.

Two months before the new season was set to begin, a period of new beginnings, the deal fell apart. In the beginning the 76ers had agreed to a six team, twenty four player trade that would've sent Allen and center position player, Matt Geiger to the Detroit Pistons. To complete the trade, the Sixers needed Geiger's cooperation.

A clause in Matt's contract called for a fifteen percent raise if he was traded— that is unless he waived it. Coach Brown made some calls and tried every trick in the book, but Matt wasn't willing to just give away $3.3 million a year.

So here we are now, still rockin with Philly.

This update had people talking for a while now, using Allen's situation as a focal point for their debates on whether he should've been traded anyway despite Matt's career decision. But if you ask me, the topic is old and pointless at this point because my man is here to stay.

As much as Allen tried to hide it, I knew the whole ordeal had him shook to the core.

After finding out the great news, he requested to become the team captain just so he could prove himself worthy to the coaching staff and his teammates. Renewed accountability. He indicated to his coach that he would accept the title along with everything the assignment entailed.

And so they granted him that chance.

Once training camp started, I could see the positive shift in his attitude. He would leave early enough to be the first one to arrive at the facility and commit to his word by agreeing to perform dry-land training, weight lifting, and do whatever else team officials suggested to help his game. From what I've seen so far, a new him is starting to emerge and I couldn't have been more prouder.

So with all of that being said, fuck the haters and whatever they got to say.

"This is a universe that Jordan has occupied for nearly two decades! He's been the face of Stern's NBA, saying and doing the right things and keeping everyone from worrying too much. Jordan is a gentle and approachable suburb friendly superstar. He likes golf and cigars, the same as any corporate fat cat and weekend warrior. This Iverson guy wears oversized t-shirts and holds up his sagging pants, just like they do on the streets of every city in America. Several thick chains bounces as he walks, he mumbles and curses during interviews and news conferences. The NBA don't like the message Iverson's look is supposedly sending, even if he is becoming a folk hero in black America." the commentator finishes.

"Well they gonna have to suck it up and get used to it." I mumble to myself.

"Zaria?"

I glance over to see the receptionist already looking at me.

"She's ready for you now."

I placed my novel into my purse and followed her back to one of the private rooms before she left to go inform my midwife that I was ready. I followed the routine and got undressed from the waist down before sitting on the edge of the hard examination table dangling my legs. The cloth gown they provided only covered the front of my body.