When Schroder was young, he was pretty good at basketball. He often told people that he would play professionally someday.
So he often skipped class to play ball. Later, he even started hanging out with a bunch of delinquents outside school.
His teachers often called him into the office to lecture him. "I know you're pretty good at basketball, but only at school. Once you go somewhere else, you're nothing. You think a little delinquent like you can play basketball? Dream on."
But Schroder had absolutely no interest in studying. No matter how much his teachers scolded him, he never changed his ways.
His father, Old Schroder, had to take time off work again and again to drag him back to school.
From the streets to the alleyways, people could see the father and son chasing each other everywhere.
But Schroder would rather hide in a stinking dumpster than go back to school with his father.
Old Schroder was often so furious he nearly burst a blood vessel.
Schroder still couldn't resist twisting the knife. "Don't be mad. I can support myself even if I don't study, because I'm going to play in the NBA someday."
But before he could finish speaking, Old Schroder would give him a beating with a stick.
Time flew by. While Schroder spent every day outsmarting and battling his dad, he also found time to improve his game.
And so he kept at it for more than ten years.
He thought life would go on like that, but in 2009, just after his fifteenth birthday, Schroder was dominating some scrubs on the court.
Then he saw one of his father's coworkers frantically waving to him from the crowd.
"Quick, kid, come with me to the hospital. Your father had a sudden heart attack."
By the