OF THE GAME
They've given you a number, and taken 'way your name.
—From the song “Secret Agent Man”
The summer after I had decided to stop chasing the dream of a career in the NBA, a college teammate was getting married in Charlotte, North Carolina. The church was not more than a mile from the arena in which we had played most of our college games. I was in the wedding.
I had completed a very successful Division I career at Davidson College just two years earlier, having scored more points than anyone else in the school's history. After being picked in the third round of the NBA draft by the New Jersey Nets, I spent a season playing professionally with the Maine Lumberjacks in the Continental Basketball Association (CBA).
During that long, cold winter in Bangor, Maine, I had decided to give the NBA one more shot the following fall and, if that did not work out, retire from competitive basketball to find a “real” job. I came to this decision after observing far too many twenty-six-, twenty-seven-, and even thirty-year-old CBA players who refused to accept the fact that their chance to make the NBA was long past.