“I remember the exact moment when I realized NBA legends weren’t SHIT.” That’s the lede from Steve Francis’ biographical piece in the Player’s Tribune. It’s a good lede. But the story gets a whole lot better. Francis isn’t kidding when he says, I Got a Story to Tell. “Four years before I was on that plane with Hakeem telling me we’re going shopping for cashmere suits together — four years before I was about to go play against Gary Payton — I was on the corner of Maple Ave in Takoma Park, Maryland, selling drugs outside the Chinese joint. My mother had passed away. My father was in a federal penitentiary. We had 18 people living in one apartment. I had dropped out of high school. No scholarships. No GED. No nothing.”