Ray Allen exited his car and in the player’s parking area at the arena, eager to begin the sweep of the Nets. Nodding at the assorted hangers-on and media members, he headed towards the locker room. But as he approached, something seemed to be wrong, as there was a throng of fellow Heat players surrounding the door. He walked up. “Hey, what’s goin’ on here?”
Rashard Lewis responded unhappily. “See for yourself.” He slid over to allow Allen to see the crudely-crafted sign taped to the door. ‘No Olds Allowed’.
“What does that mean?”
Rashard now complemented his unhappiness with snark. “What, you think they talkin’ bout Oldsmobiles? No, man, it means that older players like us aren’t allowed in.”
Udonis Haslem, Chris Andersen, LeBron James, Mario Chalmers, Michael Beasley, Dwyane Wade, Toney Douglas, James Jones, Shane Battier, and Greg Oden nodded simultaneously and solemnly.
“I ain’t old!” Ray Allen moved to open the door.
Rashard stopped him. “Yes you is. We all is man.” The simultaneous team-wide nodding occurred for the second time.
Chris Bosh had joined the group. “Am I old?”
Haslem put a hand on Bosh’s shoulder. “Yeah man. You a dinosaur. Sorry.”
This didn’t seem to faze Bosh. “Well, you know I’m sure the Nets would let us use their locker room. Let’s check it out.” With that he wandered off again, though strangely not in the direction of any locker room, visitor or otherwise. His teammates did not follow.
Ray Allen grew impatient. “I’m gonna open the door. There’s probably nothing in there to stop us from getting ready for the game. And I bet this crappy sign was put up by a ballboy or somethin’.” He reached over and tore the sign off, then opened the door and started inside.
Inside were Justin Hamilton and Norris Cole, laughing and gesticulating while eating a large pepperoni pizza. Hamilton looked dapper in his suit, while Cole was ready for the game in his warmup. Empty beer cans littered the floor. It took them a while to notice the intrusion.
“Haha, yeah, gonna need some wheelchairs tonight! I doubt Udonis can make it another game. Hey! You saw the sign! No olds allowed!” Hamilton easily pushed Allen out of the room and closed the door again.
Allen looked stunned. “Well, what do we do now?”
There was a long silence. Then LeBron spoke up. “Maybe Chris knew something we don’t. Which direction did he go again? This way? Come on.”
Beasley looked worried. “I ain’t never gone that way before. Looks spooky. Count me out.”
“I’m the leader, and I say we’re going that way.” LeBron’s forcefulness was convincing, and the entire Heat team minus Bosh, Hamilton and Cole followed him into passages unknown.