Evan Turner got off the school bus with tears in his eyes. The first day of first grade had been tough. Why didn’t any of the kids like him? He ran into his house, desperate to get away from the taunts and jeers of his schoolmates.
“Awww my baby, what’s wrong honey?” his mom cooed when he walked into the living room with reddened eyes and tearstained cheeks.
His mom’s concern made Evan start crying with renewed vigor. “Mama, the kids at school, they was callin’ me a bust, and I don’ even know what that is!” he wailed through a multitude of sniffles. “They just kep’ sayin’, ‘Turner’s a bust! He has no jumpshot!’ and I tried to tell ’em I do gots a jumpshot, but they kep’ sayin’ it!”
After this outburst, his Mom quickly got up and bundled him into her embrace. “Awww baby, you ain’t a bust and yo jumper is pure as a sunshiny mornin’. Don’t let them kids tell you othawise”.
After letting his tears run dry, Evan continued, “Jamal said that no coach would ever run they offense through me. But Coach T down at the Y always be runnin’ plays fo me. And then he said, ‘Evan’s only use will be rebounding well for his position’ like I won’t be a go-to scorer. Then he called me a bust some more.”
“My little baby, you ain’t no bust. Yo floor is a good role-player on a contender, and yo ceilin’ is multiple all-star appearances. That kid Adam Morrison from ‘cross the street, he a bust, but my baby boy, you ain’t no bust.”
Evan looked up at his Mom’s face. “Mama, what’s a bust?”
“Evan, baby, a bust is a player who fails to live up to the spot at which they was selected in a draft.”
Evan smiled, his sadness melting away. “How can I be a bust if nobody even draft me yet?”
“Honey, some kids just got a bone to pick, but don’t mind them. Now don’ you have some homework to keep yoself busy? Mom’s watchin’ her soaps and she don’t want to be bothered.”