Dennis Schröder put the earbuds in his ears, leaned back, and closed his eyes: his typical pregame relaxation ritual. His Hawks teammates knew not to disturb him unless absolutely necessary, for a meditative Dennis was a much better performer than a nervous Dennis.
As German-language pop music flowed through his ears, Dennis relaxed fully, his mind released from the stress of the impending game. For the time being, he was all alone in the world, with no outside forces able to bother him.
Abruptly, the solitude was broken. In the darkness of his closed eyelids, he had been joined by…
“Detlef Schrempf? Why are you here?” Dennis asked, despite knowing the answer.
Detlef, still far in the distance, walked closer before he answered. “I gave you a gift, Dennis, but you do not use it. You know of what I speak.”
Looking down at his feet meekly, Dennis answered, “The Magic Lederhosen.”
Lines of disappointment etched Detlef’s face. “So you do remember. I had hoped that you were merely being forgetful, but now I see that your failure to don the Lederhosen is not due to forgetfulness, but instead, to hubris.”
Dennis looked up, startled and surprised. “You see into my heart,” he stated. “How else could you see the hubris that burns so brightly there, the hubris that my waking self denies so adamantly?”
“It is true,” Detlef admitted. “I see it consuming your soul. But you are not alone in your pridefulness.” Detlef sighed, then continued. “In my younger days, I too would forgo the Magic Lederhosen, convinced that my latent skills were such that the Lederhosen were unnecessary. Perhaps that is the curse of German basketball – to be so stubborn as to decline help when it is offered.”
Dennis felt a wave of compassion for the older man. “I’m sorry, Detlef. I failed in the same way that you did. The cycle continues unabated.”
“It can still be broken,” Detlef corrected. “Put them on for this game, Dennis. I will be with you when you do.”
Dennis had begun to cry. “Yes. I will.”
Detlef had begun to recede into the inky distance. “Auf Weidersehen! I will see you soon!”
In the real world, Dennis opened his eyes, which, to his surprise, were still wet with fresh tears. He reached into the secret compartment of his locker and caressed the brown, embroidered garment with one finger. How had he been so foolish, to be generously given a gift and then not make use of it?
That was now about to change.