At the Shooting Stars basketball camp—summer 1997—I’m pushing my thin, 13-year-old frame against some 12-year-old, almost six feet tall, as he backs me down through the paint, methodically dribbles the ball, turns, shoots over me and scores. It’s five-on-five. Sixth and seventh graders. We’re in a small rec gym off the main court of Western Reserve Academy, a boarding school in Hudson, Ohio. I run down the court with the offense and the kid backpedals—on his feet the beautiful 1997 Kobes look like clown shoes, long and jutting out with the kid’s open-toed steps. Big-eared, still growing into his body, LeBron James almost looks bored.
Two years later, I run into the future all-time total points leader in NBA history again. I’m in another Shooting Stars league in Twinsburg, Ohio. This Sunday league gives high school players a chance to warm up before the season begins later in the fall. When I look across the court at the other team, I don’t recognize LeBron. He’s grown about three inches, and has a short afro. His body seems somehow wider.
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