(CRAFT)[I LOST TRACK OF TIME.]

I started the final day of my NBA career at the office. I was working on some stories and exciting future projects and just got wrapped up in the work. Next thing I knew, I looked up and realized it was already time to go.

The trip to Staples Center was just another trip for me. It might have been the 1,346th and final regular season game for me, but it felt like any other. The mood at the arena didn’t feel that way, though. When I arrived, there was a palpable, somber energy. It felt sort of sad, and I didn’t want that. I wanted the night to be a celebration; I wanted the night to be full of life, and I realized it was on me to change the vibes.

After I suited up and hit the court, I could tell I didn’t have my legs. In that moment I realized: It was going to be one of the greatest performances of all time or one of the worst. I kind of laughed at that thought for a second, smiled because I always stayed prepared to play on leaden legs; then I just went out and hooped.

The game started and I was acutely focused. I was in the moment, and any small thoughts of it being the final game disappeared. The game became the game—the game I played professionally nearly every day for 20 years. The tactical game that I excelled in. The game of chess that I always played and loved.