It was just another day, another pickup game on the Georgia Tech practice court, the same court on which I prepared for my NBA draft workouts. Fast break, right side, I go off one foot and bang the rim. A statement jam! Just like how my father taught me...
I kept playing with throbbing in the wrist. It’s nothing out of the ordinary to feel pain in the wrist after a power punch. But this was different. When I went to shoot a pull-up jumper a few plays later, my jump shot didn't even make it to the rim. This was the beginning of a bad gut feeling.
Teyana, my other half, is the only person allowed around me when I'm pissed. I told her first. Her reaction was what it always is: "Is it broken? What do you need me to do? Are you OK to play?"
After the trainer watched me play with the injury taped up for the next two days, he, along with everyone else, concluded it was merely a bruise. My high threshold for pain will allow me to battle through pretty much anything if I find a way to run and slide. My father, my first coach, would never let me punk ou ...
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Article written by Iman Shumpert