Courts of Detroit

"Today will mark the first day that the courts in Detroit will be open. I've used my vast amounts of wealth to make sure that everyone will be able to use these basketball and tennis courts so long as they're affiliated with the proper people and pay the right amount of money. I can't just let anyone in, you don't make money that way."

Realizing that he was being far too honest the man slunk back into the small crowd of men and women that stood behind him, they were various people in the government sector whose money helped grease the wheels of progress. Wanting to open up basketball courts in the Americas for quite some time now, it took a lot more maneuvering than one might think to get everything in order... because to get the proper permits required knowing the proper people which required spending ample time and cash doing things that were honestly dirtier than the things he typically got to do in this line of work.

While politics were not his strong suit, having bucks to throw around surely was. That's why in only two short months and only a few halts in the progress, the Detroit courts were created and would now pave the way for future generations to practice and train so that one day they may be 6'11" and with a 7-foot wingspan like him.

But it would not stop at basketball. No, there would be tennis courts and a football field, as well as an ice hockey rink and three different municipals would hold court here; everything was shaping up well for him to make as much money as possible off of the youth and their parents inherit needs to live through them. The money would flow from all sorts of angles and every type of sport that he could milk would be able to be played in his state of the art facilities-- there was even space for curling and a small nook where you could read, given that you pay the five dollars per hour loitering fee and have your two-dollar per day reading certificate which could be found at the front office!

Come to The Detroit Courts, where the sports are played!

There would not be a whole lot of time to prepare for the opening as hundreds of schools and small weekend football leagues were already signing themselves up in droves. For now, however, he planned on sitting on the basketball courts and waiting for people to come and challenge him, perhaps someone worthy would show up eventually.

Beat me, The Greek Freak, at basketball, and receive some of the most premium of currencies-- a credit!

Most people did not understand the value of a credit in this world, but for people in the underworld he belonged to, it was a premium that rivaled that of gold itself. You could use it to place hits on people, train yourself up from the ground, and make your way in this world; they were also extremely shiny which was a huge plus to the freak.

Come here and call me out, then I will send you 7 $10,000 tops bets. A best of seven, if you will. Whoever wins four first is considered the victor. 

Since most people aren't athletic or powerful enough to beat him straight up, he would tie one hand behind his back and wear a blindfold just to make things easier. While his powerful sports empire was growing there needed to be something fun to help cut the edge a little bit and what better than to have some fun and simple competition? 

All that was left to do was wait for a challenger to arrive. Or maybe some other business would pop up? While he wanted to just ball, he wasn't against selling the courts or helping deal with some less than legal enterprises; everything was on the table when you would come to The Detroit Courts, speaking of tables, there was also ping pong. Just throwing that out there.

McCreary appreciated the efforts made to benefit the community as a whole. After all, it was for the community that dictated his career path. Giving back was primal and influencing the youth meant that the next generation wouldn't be led astray. So when word got to McCreary that there was courts in Detroit for every sport, he was more than eager to check it out for himself.

Arriving in an outfit that the kids of today refer to as athleisure consisting of; basketball shorts, sneakers and a plain white t-shirt, was a rare sight considering he had never been spotted outside of his usual suit and tie. McCreary was felt energized, loose, and confident.

Learning of the GreekFreak's challenge as well as his freakish build, McCreary was encouraged to play against him. If he loses, oh well the dude's a giant but if he wins. Seriously, if he wins that would be legendary and really boost his street credit.

Standing in the center of the court, a little sweaty from warm ups and with a basketball in hands, McCreary shouts for GreekFreak.

"GreekFreak! I challenge you to a game!"

When McCreary collected his fourth consecutive bucket in a row, the Freak could tell that he had made the incorrect choice of tying his hand behind his back. Barely able to collect the rebound, he tried to make at least one basket, finally hitting the perfect swish but sadly it was already far too late for him to regain any sort of lead; while losses were going to happen, he hadn't expected it to be so soon in the competition and elected to pretend it was out of respect to the Godfather.

"Damn, you got me," he said while watching in horror as the final shot slapped off of the rim and back down to the hard concrete that both of the men were standing on. It would be more upsetting if this were a fair match, but as it was he couldn't expect to win every single time with so many impediments hindering him while they played.

Next time, at least, there would be no blindfold as it proved to be much more than the tall man could handle. Walking over to McCreary and pulling a small shiny credit out of his pocket, he handed it over and sighed to himself. While there was a single credit being given to every single victor; the Godfather would also be given a second for being the first person to join in on the festivities.

"Two for you, and a win to boot. Lucky guy."

There wasn't much more to say about the situation that hadn't been proven on the court, exactly where the Greek Freak liked to handle all of his problems... well, at least the ones that didn't require a gun.

Squirrelly-Dan wasn't much to look at.  He definitely wasn't a freak like Greekfreak.  He was a solid 5'10" but walked around at with the weight of someone that was at least double his height.  He definitely wasn't going to be pushed around down low by the Freak, but that was maybe all he had going for him.  After that it might be a long day on the court.

He walked out in his overalls and trucker cap with a basketball and sank a few open free throws at the other end of the court as he played @McReary.  What the fuck - let's giver a rip.  

"I got next."

"You can go first."

Removing the shackle that was a blindfold helped the Freak to at least see what was going on around him, which in the end would prove to be all that he needed to pull off the glorious victory. Handling the ball with one hand, he was able to work around the Squirrely man with ease but with only one hand was unable to put the basket inside; having it stolen from him, he chased down the fast fella but couldn't catch up with him in time-- the first basket would go to Squirrelly-Dan.

"Damn, it looks like I'll have to work a bit for this one too." before the man could even finish his sentence; he watched in annoyance as a second basket was dropped in. Down two now with only five to go, he would need to make every single play count, something that he had learned how to do during his many years playing on courts much like this one. 

The Greek Freak chased the man down and swatted the ball from going inside the hoop, finally he secured a rebound and it was his turn to score a few times-- maybe, at least. The one-handed phenom ran back and then charged his way down the half-court and dropped in the first of hopefully many points that he would score in a row; it was pretty easy to be sure, and the next time he went for a bit of a flourish, dunking against Squirrelly Dan this time, the ball smashing down against the concrete.

"Now we're even, that's what I like to see!"

With only three more baskets to go, someone was going to go home a victor and another a loser. While the Greek Freak still had the ball, he was hoping that it would be him. Bouncing the ball behind his back and doing a cute little spin, he almost let the ball fling out of bounds, but luckily was able to barely catch it as he scored for the third time in a row.

3-2.

This was it, if he scored then it was all over, but the fact that he needed to score must have gone straight to his head because, without any warning, the ball slipped out of his hands mid-bounce and rolled away from him. His attempt to recollect it was futile and his opponent had another chance to even it all up, which they did with a single lucky swish into the net.

"Fuck." 3-3.

This was for all of the marbles and the ball was in Squirrelly-Dan's hands to finish things off. Who would win? The anticipation was killing both of the men, but they had to play on. "Your ball."

Squirrelly-Dan was hunched over, hands on his knees and wheezing away as he looked up at the significantly more fit GreekFreak.  He held one hand up asking for a time out at the other one cracked a Puppers and lit a dart.  He inhaled deeply as he looked down at the mustard stain on his overalls from the pastrami and provolone sandwich he'd just eaten and then promptly puked back up as he tried to keep pace with the man-mountain in front of him. Nonetheless, Squirrelly-Dan had shown himself to be a firey competitor.  he finished his Puppers and flicked aside his dart as he took the ball.

Squirrelly-Dan dribbled up the court as Greekfreak decided to put the pressure on him full court.  Squirrelly-Dan pulled off his patented Juke/Shimmy-shake/1080 move and started taking off down the court.  As he went - his abdomen looked like a dryer full of wet towels - but he was speeding down.  Meanwhile, Greekfreak had given a solid 65% effort working his way down the court to catch up with him. Squirrelly-Dan went in for the layup and Greekfreak swatted the ball away with authoritah...

"Nice try, man." the large and in charge Greek shouted to Squirrelly-Dan while slamming down the final of his four points. Winning his second match felt good, but it was extremely hard-fought and so he decided that the competitor playing against him should at least get something in return for giving him such a sweat. This is why he rooted around in his pockets for a few seconds before pulling out what was the shinest of his credits, the currency used primarily by the mob.

"You deserved this. You almost had me there." flashing off his signature Freak grin, the man wiped the sweat off of his face and walked towards the benches he had put in so that people could come and watch the big games. It wouldn't be long until he was ready to take on another challenger, or perhaps even watch others battle out a game of their own.

While the courts were his, he enjoyed everyone using them.

"Come back if you ever want another go at the best." The Freak sure did talk a lot of trash for someone who was rocking a fifty percent win rate, but what was basketball without a little bit of trash talking? Having learned from the greats before him, he always added a little bit of a flourish in his on-court conversations.

Sighing a bit when he sat down, it was time for a well earned break and as he watched both McCreary and Squirrelly-Dan walk away from his courts, he wondered what was next in store for him. Maybe he would even go check out the other courts and see what was going on? A basketball star could surely give tennis players a run for their money, too? There was only one way to find out.