Are you watching?

Don't look now, but he's about to score.

He's a rookie, and this is his first time on the court.

Or, maybe he's not.  Maybe he was in the game, showed incredible talent during his rookie year, then he fell off.  Got injured or something.

Now, he's back.  What you don't know, is that while you were saying he's washed up, he's been training.  He's been sprinting.  He's been MMA fighting.  He's been doing pullups.  He's been doing one-armed pullups.

He's been preparing for war.

And now that the war has begun, and he's on the phone...

And now he's back on the court.

The champ has returned.  They're playing his music.

There are diamonds on his neck.  Even his chain has a chain.  A chain, a fittingly ironic symbol of wealth today.  This is the black man's wretched glory.  This is the deepest sort of victory for the nigga, risen from his ancestor's horror:  A history full of humiliation, of pain, of steel-melting anger...

He has risen from his dark heritage of chains of bondage, into the wretched glory of the motherfuckin' light.  

Are you watching?  

Because after pouring buckets of sweat into a hustle, after drenching the dirt with your own blood, after wiping away your own tears with the back of torn-up knuckles, there is only one thing left to happen after a man has put THIS level of might, and moxie, and motherfuckin' muscle into the concept of mastery.