Once upon a time there was a game, and over these lines you'll see how it became. A different sport because of one man who came from across the sea, a foreign land. Over seven feet tall he stands, the Maverick. And once ball touched those hands, it was never the same. At first it was hard, the teams first picked in the draft and pressured from the start. He felt sick as they laughed at the way he played. The way he shot for threes with fingersplained. His dream it seemed would slip away. As if he'd spend the rest of his days playing another man's game instead. His dream was dying, if not yet dead. Don't ever leave the pain they said. They're too tall to shoot they said. They'll just have to wait they said. They'll never be great they said. He felt betrayed, afraid but never swayed. The true to his style he stayed. He always played the way he played. And let it be known, persistence pays. Because soon enough that outcast is the hero. The Maverick, world class and deadly from the free throw, leads the team to the last round, not just the twos, but threes though. Against the odds they were crowned and they begged him, never leave no. For that lone star town had last at their ring. And for all that were there it meant everything. And though now he might have left, his game remains because of all the theft. Of the way he plays, the way he shoots. He's changed the whole thing from the brush to the roots. From one leg fade away to stretch for us, his game still stays and lives in yours. That's why always this story will never end. These blank pages are reserved for you. Maybe you'll change the game like the Maverick too. But this was the thing the Maverick proved. All dreams are crazy until you make them true.