When Justise Winslow, walking through a back hallway of the Staples Center, felt himself get grabbed and pulled to the side by somebody with a very strong grip, his first thought was that he was going to get murdered. He instinctively tried to pull away, but his abductor quickly got him in a tight bearhug and dragged him into a nearby storage closet. In the darkness and confusion, he had no idea who the assailant could be, and the only thing his panicked mind was telling him was that it was unfair how he was going to die before his rookie contract ended.
Unexpectedly, the grip on him was released and the light in the closet was turned on. Justise prepared to make a run for it, but stopped when he saw a familiar face standing in front of him.
LeBron James.
“Man, what the hell?” was all Justise could think to say to one of the greatest players of all time.
LeBron smiled sheepishly. “Just making sure you didn’t run away or anything. I’ve got some important stuff to tell you.”
His heart still pounding in his chest, Justise took some time to compose himself. Finally, he replied. “Is it really necessary to be crammed in this little closet?”
“No media. No cameras. They run away with anything I say,” LeBron answered, kicking aside a janitor’s mop and bucket to give himself a little more standing room. “Now listen up. It’s been a long time since Miami had a star. Not since I left.”
Justise chuckled. He knew full well how mediocre his team had been for the past few seasons. “Tell me about it.”
LeBron grabbed Justise’s shoulders and gave him a stern look. “They need another LeBron, man. A post-LeBron LeBron, if you will, and he’s on the roster right now.”
Doing a quick mental rundown of the roster, Justise confidently answered, “James Johnson.”
LeBron shook his head. “You.”
It took a little while for Justise to comprehend this. “Me?”
“Yeah. You. And just between you and me, there’s some kind of cosmic significance thing going on right now, with you and me and Wade and Spo. I feel it.” The moment was interrupted by a notification going off on LeBron’s phone. LeBron checked it, then hurriedly stuffed it back in his pocket. “I gotta go. Just remember, you’re the new LeBron in Miami. Honestly, you might not be quite as good as me, but very few people are. Good luck.” He slapped Justise on the back, then left the closet, leaving Justise there by himself.
—
The final buzzer sounded, Justise’s game-tying three-pointer having clanked off the rim. “If there’s some cosmic magic going on right now, shouldn’t that shot have gone in, to symbolize the passing of the torch?” he asked LeBron over the din of the jubilant Lakers crowd.
LeBron shrugged. “Guess the cosmos still prefers me.” Then, he was whisked away by adoring teammates, leaving Justise alone to contemplate his role both on his team, and in the intertwining universal drama of life.