Thaddeus Young walked through the hallways of the Wells Fargo Center towards the visitors’ locker room. At every turn, he saw another thing that reminded him of the seven years where he had called this his home arena. Even some of the staff were the same, and they greeted him happily as if he had never stopped being a 76er. He had been back to this arena many times since his tenure with the team had ended, but it never stopped being a journey through nostalgia and reminiscence. It never failed to remind him, not only of good memories, but of bad memories as well.
He walked into the locker room and made his way to his locker. None of his other teammates were there, and why should they be? He had arrived several hours early, just so he could be alone with his thoughts.
As he approached his locker, however, he caught a smell of something, just a little whiff that nearly caused him collapse as memories rushed back to him. Steadying himself against a wall, he let the scent of cheesesteak flow through his nostrils. It was the best smell he had ever smelled, but also the worst. Not bothering to hold back his tears, he couldn’t help but remember those lowest points of his life, when his addiction to cheesesteaks had been the worst. Not four hours would go by without him consuming one of the signature Philadelphia cheese-and-meat sandwiches. As his tolerance to cheesesteaks grew, he needed bigger and bigger sandwiches, piled with ever-more unreasonable quantities of steak, just to get that rush of pleasure that only a cheesesteak could provide him.
Thaddeus walked up to his locker and found a single plate already waiting for him. On the plate was the source of the smell: a freshly-made, still-steaming Philly cheesesteak. His first instinct was to grab it and take a big bite; he even reached out to grab the sandwich, but he pulled back his hand just before his fingertip made contact with the local delicacy. He had been cheesesteak-free for three years, and while he still sometimes had cravings for the food, the withdrawals no longer controlled his life like they had when he had first cut himself off cheesesteaks.
Who had left this cheesesteak for him? Had it been a well-meaning arena employee, or had it been a 76ers player or staffer, eager to launch Thaddeus fully back into the throes of addiction, so that the quality of his play would be compromised?
Just one bite. All Thaddeus needed was one bite, to remember the taste and remember why he didn’t need cheesesteaks anymore. Then he could throw it away. It would be rude of him not to take a bite if one of his old Philly friends had left this surprise for him. And if it had been an adversary trying to throw him off his game, well, it wouldn’t work because he was only going to take one bite. Not enough to feel the rush. Not enough to get him hooked back on the stuff. Just enough to remember the taste.
He picked up the plate, bringing it up to his nose so he could smell it more clearly. It smelled delicious, but it also smelled like dingy back-alleys where he would furtively pay cheesesteak dealers for his fix. It smelled like the carefree days of his youth, but also like stranger’s apartments where he spent days strung out on cheesesteaks, surrounded by other junkies doing the same. Still, it was just one bite. Nothing bad would happen. He took the sandwich in one hand and brought it up towards his mouth.
“Thad! NO!” came a voice from the door, and, just as the cheesesteak was about to enter Thaddeus’ mouth, he was tackled to the floor from behind. The plate and sandwich went flying across the room. When Thaddeus, slightly sore from the hit, rolled over to see who had intervened, it was 76ers’ rookie Landry Shamet.
Before Thaddeus could question him, words began pouring out of Landry’s mouth. “I heard the guys talking. They knew you were clean and they wanted you to get back on the stuff. I heard them plan it all out, how they were gonna put a cheesesteak in your locker to trap you. I heard it all.” Landry seemed to be nearly in tears as he described it. “They’re jealous, man. They’re jealous that your life isn’t one big cheesesteak binge. They’re all addicts, man. All of them. It’s so bad, the locker room’s so bad. That disgusting smell everywhere, discarded sandwich wrappers on the floor, dudes passed out from the meat, they don’t care about anything other than cheesesteaks and they hate you because you were them, but you escaped.” Now Landry was crying.
“Thanks man,” Thaddeus said, hugging Landry. “That was real close. Too close.” He looked over to where the now-disassembled cheesesteak lay on the floor. As a scared Landry watched, Thaddeus picked up the dusty cheesesteak and threw it in a trash can. “But, thanks to you, those things have no power over me anymore.”