Like many African-American kids in inner cities, R.J. Watkins had aspirations of becoming a professional athlete. He saw it as his way out, his doorway to a better life, perhaps his only doorway. For R.J., it was more than just a dream, it was real. So real in fact, he could see it. He could feel it. He could taste it. Saying it out loud every now and then only reinforced it, validated it, confirmed it to be true. "Someday, I'm going to play in the NBA!" R.J. declared. "I'm going to get my mom and dad out of this neighborhood, buy them a house, a car, and make sure they'll never have to work another day." Sammy, who had been R.J's best friend since he could remember, listened intently without saying a word. He had heard this declaration a hundred times as the pair walked home from school, maybe a thousand. Sammy had no rebuttal to such a bold prediction because as unlikely as R.J.'s declaration may have seemed, Sammy believed it, almost as much as R.J. did.