A Hero to a Few

"1973. That was the last time. Do you realize that? Do you have any idea how hard that is for me to accept?" I said, holding my orange and blue cap in my hands.

"I love this city man, and I can't just sit idle while these heists take place every year and not do something about it."

He continued to ignore me.

"What do you want? Money?”

I could feel frustration in his voice. But what choice did I have? I didn't, and said nothing in response, staring at his large frame, coupled with my excitement and anxiety. The Serbian man towered over me, even while sitting down.

He continued, "You will not get away with this. My brothers will come looking for me, and so will the media," he said, still tied in his chair.

Interrupting, I asked, "Are you really 6'11?"

He answered, "Yes, but why is that.."

Licking my lips, I pulled out my papers. "Look, man, just sign these, and I will let you go."

"What is it?" he said.

"Denver doesn't love you like we will. It's a one-year contract to come play for the New York Knicks.”

And I was arrested shortly after.