No matter the neighborhood or the tournament, there is that one kid who is nice. On the court, he’s the man. The neighborhood loves him. Everyone embraces him. He has everything: the crossover, his jump shot is straight cash money and he plays defense baseline to baseline. He has a following too. If he has a game, everyone knows.

“Yo, son, you goin’ to his game later?”

“Yeah, I’m goin’, son. My son get right.”

The whole neighborhood is in the park watching him give out a 40 piece to the opposite team. The on-lookers are saying, “Son is nice” while the other spectators are saying, “Wait ’til after this game. We gonna see him.” These particular fans are in the cut, just chillin’, waiting to catch him slippin’.

The game is over now. Everyone is telling son how he was killin’ and how he dropped his defender with the “stutter-step crossover.” A little kid is on the court shouting “Number 15’s jumper is just like mine, straight cash, boy.”

You hear rumors about this kid now. “He’s in the streets wildin’, but he’s a great ballplayer.” Some people say, “He is a troublemaker, but he’s one of the best hidden talents in New York City.”

You see this kid every other day. “Yo what’s up, man?!” he says as he acknowledges you walking. “I’m good, man. I heard you had 40 and change on the yellow the other day.”

He responds with “C’mon, son. You know how I do. It’s nothin’, man. I play next week against the red team. You gonna come through?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m there. Just holla at me. Be safe, man.” He responds with “I got you!”

A day before the game you and your associates are in the park just conversing about who’s nice or who’s overrated. While all of you guys are shooting jump shots seeing who is going to be a captain to choose teams…

“You heard about son who played for the green team?!” someone asks.

While you are about to shoot the ball, you say, “Naw, what happened?” The person replies, “He got shot last night while coming from the store!” In unison everyone says, “WORD!!!!!!!”

The person who revealed the information gives everyone the scoop.

“He had problems with a crew from the other side. He was in the streets, man. The streets grabbed him.”

You respond, saying, “I just was talking to him on Tuesday. I was going to go to his game in the park.”

All of the other players say, “I was too man.” The only thing you can do is say to yourself is “Why?”

The moral of the story is: you have to pick what team you are going to be on. You cannot be a great ballplayer and a thug at the same time. The streets are grabbing all of these young guys, forcing them to learn the hard way. In every neighborhood, there is someone like him who just needs guidance or someone to mentor him. There is nothing wrong with thinking for yourself and trying to better yourself.

I’d rather hear about kids excelling in the classroom and on the basketball court than dying because of senseless acts of violence. The late and great Notorious B.I.G. said it the best way he could: “The streets is a short shot, you’re either slangin’ crack rock or you got a wicked jump shot.” Choose what team you want to be on.

R.I.P. to everyone who lost someone due to a senseless act of violence.