“You wanted this.” Keith’s voice brings me back to the task at hand. As soon as I approach the three–point line, he pounces on me. I drive right, but I feel him trying to force me back. We weave and dance our way toward the right corner. Kids back away from us even more. I spin and duck left while he tries to follow. He’s half a step behind. My eyes spot a lane to the basket, and I waste no time darting for it. I see two bigger guys crowd the paint, but it’s too late for me to back down. Keith plants his feet. Half of his body blocks my way. I crash into all three of them as I throw a shot up.