A war veteran with half a head sings the national anthem. The entire Chicago Boston Celtics roster is gathered here, as well as hundreds if not thousands of spectators and fans. Cashman stands sturdy like a sentient cannonball. Sync, Romulus, and Druglord, stars of the starting 5, bow their heads solemnly. Ryman_Branson is a vision in all-green. Coach Cromwell, the human version of a redwood tree and not at all a fat piglet, begins the ceremony.

"We are gathered here today to retire the number of a franchise icon. Cast your eyes above us, to our clothing line of jerseys and championship banners.

These are the men who poured their blood, sweat and tears out for this organization. The men who represented our team and part-time mafia gang with pride and honor every gameday. The men who stepped up and sunk clutch fadeaways 3's while down by 2 in the late 4th, and who nut-tapped pitiful, helpless BenShapiro on game-winning drives to the basket. 

These are the men who, after doing so, rolled into the locker rooms to get naked with their teammates and snort as much cocaine as any man could, or has. The men who put their clothes on, went out to the night clubs, and got hammered on disgusting Fireball shots and sambuca. The men who passed out in the club bathroom covered in their own vomit. These are the men who woke up in taxis without their wallets. These are the men who forgot where they lived, got out of the cab, and walked three miles in the wrong direction.

These are the men who peed their pants.

They built this organization. They are Chicago Boston Celtics legends. And who more appropriate to honor first than the man who gave everything as the most senior member of the roster from day 1: LEGEND. The cowardly, small-penised rogue Vic-Reynolds took him from us, and I miss him every day."

Coach Cromwell watches as LEGEND's #6 jersey is slowly raised alongside the team's championship banners, as the half-headed veteran sings Amazing Grace. 

"Gone but never forgotten."

Hanging his head in honour, Cognito tried to hold back the tear he could feel forming. It had been an emotional couple of days with the loss of many a good man and indeed his own father. As a boy, Cogs had heard such great things about the legend that was LEGEND and how he had single handedly brought about the success of the Chicago Boston Celtics. 

Watching the jersey raise, he took a moment to soak in the emotion and the sadness he could see in Cromwell. 

"You're with the angels now sir"

Ron was not one for outward displays of emotion.  In fact, his poker face was so pokery, that he's been banned from playing poker in 40 states.

He'd only ever shed a tear once, and that was a tear of pride at the sight of his son.........killing his first bear.

Yet as the #6 jersey was elevated, high and proud Ron felt his eyes well up as he remembered a man, not just for his athletic prowess, but also for his ability to do the funky chicken.

"always in our hearts"

Pablo Ryman stood with his hand on his heart.  They singing of either one of his two national anthems always brought a tear to his eyes.  Ryman Pablo remembered seeing BenShapiro in a heap in that famous series, it was one of those scenes that inspired the pudgy Medellin kid to pursue these greater things.  Pablo Ryman would get Pablo’s little greaseball son to learn how to shoot a half decent jump shot next time he was back boning Pablo’s hot wife.

Pablo Ryman had never met LEGEND but if what was it about nominative determination?  A living LEGEND in his lifetime and now a LEGEND in his untimely death.

Pablo Ryman hung his head in respect as the half head singer warbled the last of the anthem…the miracles that doctors could perform.  Back in Medellin, someone with that amount missing was totally turning up in a surrealist painting but not here.  Every live that could be spared was fought for valiantly…just like LEGEND tussling with BenShapiro.

Donnie is seen holding his hat to his chest. Bowing his head in respect due to LEGEND. A great man he never got a chance to know. He looks to the #6 Jersey and smiles to himself before speaking low as to not take away from the singing of the National Anthem.

"He's in a better place now. You will be remembered."

Sync pays his respect to LEGEND after being take from the Celtics to soon.

Its sad that LEGEND was taken from us from some cock gobbling no name. He was valued member of this team. He brought a ton of joy in and out on court unlike that verneal diseased mouth breather BenSharpio. He was truly an all star and others should strive to be a teamplayer like him. Rest well LEGEND.

Say one thing for Logen Ninefingers... Say he never missed a Celtics retirement event. He was hoping someone had forcibly retired Cromwell but kept the grimace from his face when he realized Cromwell was alive & well. He watches the number 6 jersey be raised & speaks to no one in particular.

"Terrible business, what sort of dweeb would deprive the world of a LEGEND? One of my fondest memories of the dearly departed was a night on the town in the South Side. The Celtics had won & LEGEND was being a legend, paying for all the drinks & girls. There was Me, Legend & Marc fucking Rutzou, we were just smashing into the drinks. Some rowdy asshole turned up drunk talking some shit about 'Fuck the Celtics' Legend sprung into action, he was across the bar his insane pace causing raised eyebrows amongst the patrons. He clutched the god dam Colt & shot this guy POW RIGHT IN THE FUCKING HEAD. What a rush!"

Ninefingers feels the sting of tears begin to well. His voice thick with emotion.

"God rest your soul LEGEND, you never even saw a 1.13, till the day you died"

The big fucken guy just stood there with the squad as Coach Cromwell spoke. LEGEND was gunned down just a few days earlier by a vicious psychopath. If only Bandito knew how much hurt he has put on the basketball community, maybe he would have reconsidered it.

It is a sad day for everyone involved. Not only did our squad in Chicago lose its star in LEGEND, but the entire world will now be let down that he'll never be seen again. The man could throw 3's. The man was a free throw god. The man could block. The man could do it all.. A true ..LEGEND.

LEGEND was a better man than I. Before a practice game against a local middleschool, he snorted more cocaine than I thought humanly feasible. We all just stood and watched, expecting him to roll over and die, but no, LEGEND was fucken AMPED. We beat those middleschoolers and partied with their moms afterwards.

Thank you LEGEND. I will miss you.

Kinoko shake his head in disbelieve when he heard the name Vic-Reynolds and how such a small-penised person like himself had taking a shot on one of the most successful known players of The Chicago Boston Celtics. LEGEND a true Legend unlike any of his kind. His #6 Jersey was to be seen high like the star he is. Kinoko then smiled.

"He is in a better place now and he will be looking down on us all, like he should. We will remember this day to be more important then any other day that comes after it! So many will miss you LEGEND." 

Thank you LEGEND! You will be remembered.