The most mythical players in today’s NBA

There are two types of players in the NBA. Those we see on the court. And those we create in our minds. The ones created in our minds are some of the greatest players of our time. This is their story.

Hoodie Melo

It’s the middle of summer in New York. The thermometer on your phone reads 88-degrees, which feels like 100-degrees when bunched up on the crowded streets of the city. Business suits turn into bathing suits, soaking up the sweat from your pores.

You hurry down the street, weaving in and out of the human traffic in hopes the meeting doesn’t start without you. You look down to check your watch when…smack! You’re nearly knocked over by an unmoving man, eyes fixated elsewhere.

“What’s your problem?” You ask.

The man glances at you, then quickly turns back to original target. You don’t ask again, noticing it’s not just him. A crowd of people have gathered around an open basketball court. No cheering. No jeering. Just silence. Watching.

“Two hundred ninety-three,” says the man on the court as the ball goes through the chainlink net.

You’re torn. You have to get to your meeting. But you’re curious. You watch as the man, wearing a hoodie despite the temperature, drains another shot. You don’t even like basketball. Yet you can’t look away.

The hooded man holds on the ball in the high-post, no defender in front of him. Jab step. Jab step. Fades back. Releases.

“Two hundred ninety-five.”

You can’t believe what you’ve just seen. He made it look so effortless. Yet, you’re confused.

You question the man who didn’t budge when you cashed into him moments ago, “How come he’s out there alone?”

“Huh?”

“I’ve walked by this court hundreds of times on my way to work. There are always games going on and no one seems to care. Why is this man allowed to use the court on his own? And why do people care so much?”

“Don’t question it,” says a woman who overhears the conversation. “He’s playing the best basketball we’ve ever seen in New York.”

The statement is incorrect, but you don’t bother challenging it.

One dribble, quick spin move, easy layup. “Three hundred.”

The crowd gives a cheer. Multiple people are recording the session on their phone. The posts will soon go viral amongst the basketball community.

“I can’t wait to tell my kids about this man,” says an onlooker.

You’re now 15-minutes late. You know you shouldn’t keep watching. But your feet won’t move. They are stuck in concrete, much like the invisible defenders on the court. Who is this man? You finally get up the nerve to ask.

“Hoodie Melo”