I think I must be a throwback coach. I decided that while sitting courtside in a gym this past July. It was a JFK, Elvis, 'Who shot JR?' kind of moment: one of those that sears itself into your roadmap because you'll never forget where you were when it happened. I was on the baseline behind the backboard on Court No. 4 in Augusta, Georgia. It was about 47 degrees in the gym and 110 outside. And directly in front of me stood the next Greatest Thing Since Sliced Bread ready to attempt a free throw.
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