The year was 2013…
I knew the journey would be ugly and a thing I’d soon want to forget. My feelings were confirmed when I came to the city lines. I was first met by a long metal gate. There it was. The sign read ‘No Streaks Allowed.” I was checked by an old man with 4 teeth and a Joakim Noah jersey. He looked at me in my nervous eyes. If he only knew the kind of winning streak I was packing, that would be the end. He didn’t. I was let inside the city of Chicago.
The streets were desolate. Everywhere I looked, the signs read “No Streaks Allowed.” Was this the place my Papi spoke of? This was an ugly place. How could it be? All that remained were savages looking for a streak to devour.
First Miami’s 27 game win streak was slaughtered in front of the world with no regard for history or decency. Then, just last night, the Knicks saw their 13 game win streak be killed… in front of children. Would my streak be next? This was not the Chicago I remembered.
Under a bridge I heard a voice. “Whatcha got there?”
“Uh… n… nothing,” I said nervously. I turned around and noticed Nate Robinson, slobbering at the mouth like Glen “Big Baby” Davis.
“I think I know what you got there, and I think I want to kill it,” said Nate as he moved his hands slowly in a championship belt-type motion.
“Look! A hater!” I screamed.
He turned and I ran. My legs had never moved this fast before. I kept running and running until…
I was tackled to the ground.
“Kirk is hungry. Kirk smells a streak,” said Kirk Hinrich.
“I don’t have anything!” I screamed as I stood to my feet.
Kirk tackled me again. I finally understood LeBron’s pain. Once more, I stood up. As Kirk went for another lunge, I dodged him and ran again. When the coast was clear I began walking. I needed shelter.
I made my way to Wicker Park, which looked dirty and was filled with strange people wearing things I had never seen before. So… nothing out of the ordinary there.
Just then an old blind woman grabbed my wrist. She said. “Rose?! Is that you? Have you returned?”
The poor woman. The poor city. What was Chicago’s purpose anymore? When did it become the streak eating monster? This woman showed me that there is still good in this town. I french kissed her on the lips and continued on my way.
There was an old school bus. This was my shelter. As I walked to the bus I heard heavy breathing.
“Hey you,” said a voice.
I turned around and saw Carlos Boozer.
I calmly said, “Go away, Carlos.”
“Alright,” he said as he turned and walked away. Carlos was not as scary.
So there I was, behind this bus. Bulls were everywhere, trying to devour my winning streak. Rumor has it that Luol Deng has caught wind of my presence. I didn’t have long. Would I make it out alive? Would I complete my mission?
Or will Chicago destroy my streak like it did to the streaks of Miami and NYC?
Only time will tell.
(To be continued…)