It is a perfect, sunny, cloudless day in Los Angeles.  I have a game today, my team, the Los Angeles Lakers, versus the Boston Celtics.  “It’ll be an easy game,” I thought, “Just like all the others.”

    As I got to the court, I saw my best friend, Carmelo Anthony.  Carmelo was a tall, half Puerto Rican man whose arms were plastered with tattoos.  I’ve known Carmelo my entire life. We were even taught to play basketball by the same man, Keith Dambrot.  When it comes to basketball, Keith taught us everything.  He is the reason we are the best of the best.  

    “Ready to win another game, Lebron?” Carmelo asked. 

     “Of course I am, I just wish we could get a little challenge every once in a while,” I said.  

“Is Lebron James here?” the coach asked.  That's when I saw him.  I was too dumbfounded to speak.  “He is huge,” I thought to myself. 

    Carmelo nudged me, my entire team was looking at me.  

    “Here,” I finally uttered, embarrassed that I had kept the team waiting.  I had to find out who that goliath was. 

    “Carmelo, who’s that big guy over there? The one with the bald head and clean-shaven face, and built like a redwood tree, I have never seen him before,” I asked.  

    “That’s the Celtics’ new prodigy, his name is Shaquille O'Neal. I think they call him Shaq for short, and I heard that his highest point game is 61 just like yours,” Carmelo said.  

    “Well, I guess we finally are getting a challenge,” I said.  As soon as the game started and he came barreling toward us, I knew that I was right, we were finally getting a challenge.  

    The game started and the behemoth Shaq exceeded my every expectation.  Carmelo was the one who started with the ball and Shaq was on him in an instant. He was unbelievably fast for his size.  Shaq snatched the ball from Carmelo’s hand and took a daring half-court shot, which paid off by the ball sailing into the goal - two points.  Shaq started with the ball this time.  The ball weaved back and forth as Shaq made his way straight to the goal. He jumped and slammed the ball into the hoop - another two points.  If I don’t do something soon, Shaq will win the game for his team all by himself.  

 I was the one to start with the ball this time.  

    Shaq came sprinting at me yelling, “I’ve got this,” to his teammates.  When he finally reached me, he grabbed the ball out of my hands, knocking me down and stepping on my leg.  A loud cracking noise was all I and everyone else on the court heard after Shaq crushed my leg under his foot.  Next thing I knew, I was on the ground.  Everyone went silent and seemed to be gazing with horror at something beneath me.  I, too, gazed beneath me.  What I saw was truly worthy of everyone’s horror stricken faces.  My right leg is a mangled mess bent past where that of a normal human being should be.  But, where was the pain?  I have far too much adrenaline coursing through my veins to even feel an ounce of pain.  The agony set in mere seconds after my sudden realization.  The pain is too much to handle.  

    Next thing I know, I’m in the hospital.  I looked down at my leg, It was in a dull white cast and, there was a pain that felt like a butter knife being driven into my flesh.  I look around and see that I am locked in a hospital room with blindingly white walls and no one in sight.  

    The physician finally came through the door and said to me, “Mr. James, I’m afraid that you have broken your leg in three places.  You most likely will not be able to walk for five months.”  

    “But the basketball tournament is in five months,” I cried.  

    “Yes, I heard there is quite a prize for winning, something like $100,000.  There is still a small chance that you could recover in time. Best of luck to you in that,” the physician said.  The physician gave me crutches, shoved some papers in my hand and sent me on my way.  

    Carmelo was the one to pick me up. I asked him the one thing that mattered to me, “Did we win?”  

    “Not even close,” he answered.  The car ride was quiet after that, so I read the papers the doctor gave me.  The first paper was a bill.  $23,609 was the absurd amount the greedy hospital required.  The next paper was for physical therapy. It said I could start April 19, 2022, tomorrow, but I wouldn’t be done until August 30, 2022, ten days after the tournament. 

    The first day of physical therapy was grueling, but I could feel myself getting stronger.  I have one goal in mind, to get to that tournament with my team, and win.  

    Carmelo walked through the door and said, “I have some news for you, Shaq and his team are going to be competing in the tournament,”  

    “I have to get in the tournament and get my revenge, if it's the last thing I do,” I said.  

    “Well, good luck,” Carmelo said.

    The next few months passed in the blink of an eye.  The next thing I knew, it was August 18, 2022, two days before the tournament.  

    “I think today’s the day, Carmelo,” I said. 

     “Well, go ahead, try and walk,” Carmelo said.  For the first time in almost five months, I was going to walk unaided.  I successfully walked across the room.  

    “Good job,” Carmelo said, “Now, let's get to the court.”  The court Carmelo was talking about was the court he and I had grown up playing on, so it was fit to practice on before the biggest game of my life.  Carmelo and I spent the rest of the free time we had preparing for the tournament, the day finally arrived.