Sebastian Telfair was staring, again, at the framed magazine cover he carried with him everywhere.
He thought back to all his friends and admirers back at Lincoln High School. He had the world’s gaze, then. Crossover after deft crossover, pass after dazzling pass, skills honed on the hard streets of New York.
“Sebastian Telfair & LeBron James are about to rule the world.”
Tears formed as he let his mind traverse the streets of fantasy, of what could of been, what should have been. There he was, winning rookie of the year. There he was, scoring 50 in Madison Square Garden itself, his ardent followers chanting his name. There he was, grinning broadly as he poured champagne all over himself, having won the championship and been named finals MVP.
The tears fell harder now. LeBron had these things, but Sebastian Telfair had none of them. Where did it go wrong? Was he not also deserving of success? The sadness turned to anger at the injustice. He resisted the urge to throw the cover against the wall, its existence a constant reminder of glory gained and glory lost.
He knew he should be mentally ready for tonight’s game against the Nuggets, but what did it matter? He was just a backup on a team full of players with half the talent of himself.