You were relaxing at a basketball court in an Italian part of Brooklyn. You were sitting near one of the hoops, watching the few cars pass by and seeing me, my best friend and right-hand-man Crazy Shapiro, and the rest of my gang, “The Stompers” in our spot: this basketball court. You didn’t seem to mind us being here, so we did not seem to bother you at all either. You were just looking out on the street until you saw a basketball bounce right next to you and stop in front of you then a voice behind you spoke.

“Hey, kid. Hey, gimme the ball.”