As I drove upstate to record podcasts with Alonzo, memories of my youth came flooding back to me. The winding roads were reminiscent of the long drives I used to take in search of an escape from the monotony of my life. I gazed out the window, watching the scenery whizz by, and my thoughts drifted to my father. His demons had begun to take over after the death of my sister Angie. Addiction had become the focal point of his existence, and he was spiraling out of control. My anger towards him had reached a boiling point after my brother called me on my daughter’s birthday to talk about our father. I couldn’t bear to be in the same room as him, let alone talk to him. But as I made my way upstate to record podcasts, I knew I had to put all of that aside and focus on the task at hand. The picturesque scenery was a welcome distraction, but my mind kept wandering back to my father. I wondered if he ever felt the way I did on these long drives, looking for a way to escape the pain. As we pulled up to the house, I pushed my thoughts aside and got ready to record. We cracked open beers and drank until we were drunk, then started recording our basketball-related podcasts with special guests. The energy in the room was electric, and our discussions were lively and full of passion. I knew that I had to deal with my father’s addiction and the anger it had stirred up in me. But for that one night, I was able to forget about everything and focus on the things that made me happy. The laughter, the camaraderie, and the feeling of being in my element. It was a welcome respite from the pain and confusion that had been weighing me down for so long. And for that, I was grateful.

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