…..Don’t always tell the whole story.

I’m old, older than pretty much all of you, my family line is even older, tracing it’s roots back to a stone carving of stick figures with spears.

I digress

I speak to the old family lines and here tell of how things aren’t what they were.  How standards in communication have dropped and how talent isn’t as, well, talented.

I’ve studied this a bit over the last couple of months and I have to say, I don’t agree.

The new generation of this thing of ours is vibrant, engaged and whip sharp.  Is it different?  Of course it is, but worse?  I think not

I see for the first time in a while, engagement in our streets, humour which had been sadly lacking and a new, dynamic leadership.

Long may it continue

DING DONG!

"It might not tell us the whole story, but it does tell us a story. A story of an orange sphere. A story of basketball."

"I remember a time where the streets were ruled by an (allegedly) HGH fueled gorilla with an iron fist. A time where muggings were not only a part of daily life, but a MANDATORY part of it. A time where I would not know whether I'd get through the day without getting suplexed into the sidewalk or with the same amount of teeth as I had that morning. A time where I was bullied into playing basketball against my will by both friend and foe alike."

"With the death of Basketball Detroit, our way of life permanently lost something. Something that stunk of sweat, public-toilet sewage, and performance-enhancing drugs. But still something. Something glorious."

The Cad listened intently to the one called Void and couldn't help but think it rhymed with Haemorrhoid

Still, he had been reminded of a tale told him by a great grandfather of a coach, a coach of the orange sphere and something to do with hoops.

The tales were legend, nay, mythical.

We should speak more sir.

Void had been rather surprised to hear the man invite him to speak more together after Void's melancholic outburst of nostalgia. Did Utter_Cad know some secret about ancient Detroit? Was there perhaps a secret underground basketball society led by the surviving Apostles of HeadCoach somewhere?

Void was unsure whether or not to take up the Cad's offer at first, until he couldn't help but think that 'Utter Cad' rhymed with 'Butter Lad' (he had heard the rumors of the Utter_Cad and the oil).

"Yes, we should speak more indeed..."

The Cad raised an eyebrow, almost knowingly.  Could this possibly be a kindred spirit?  A throwback from the tales of those in Detroit that had on them, bestowed, the 'jackets'?

The Cad wasn't usually impressed, he found most things most irksome but this Void character had put some lead in his metaphorical pencil

'Aye Squire, let's share a drink or two

Mia was strolling down Main Street with Buster in tow when she stopped to listen to Utter_Cad speak.

She had to agree with Utter_Cad.  She also found the street corners and courtyards more live with humor, diversity and a new dynamic leadership.  Then Void brought up the topic of the old basketball crew.

I didn’t personally know the legendary guys that have made their claim to fame through basketball in Detroit and on these street corners.  All I have to go on are the journals left by her mother.  Although intimidated by their presence she had quite a rapport with them.  I also learned from the journals how the politicking and petty attacks on each other’s basketball intelligence got really heated. 

We in Detroit know we have lost basketball’s most beloved and irreplaceable treasures. We mourn their  deaths and think of their countless contributions to society, I cannot help but wonder who in this world - is going to, at the very least, ask for the baton and keep Detroit Basketball alive in their memory.

The 12th Street Public Toilets with the new sign the 12th Street Public Exclusion Zone Tours are no longer considered a level 4 biohazard and thus a threat to the health of all US citizens. There are no longer rumors of horrible toilet-plague bearing RAT infestations, poisonous clouds floating about carrying all sorts of unknown diseases. 

All that is needed is a specialist in fortune telling that could tell from the size, shape, texture and way the log sits up, what life has in store for someone. And surely if we find your hands in our pockets you will be mugged so we guess it’s still a Mug City in their honor.

We can keep the legacy going. We are basketball fans and open our city to welcome all basketball enthusiastic.