I Will, Senior Paul

Los Angeles Airport:

"So, Goodwin, am I handsome?" Paul Pierce bragged, holding up his All-Star poster. That evening, Pierce and Goodwin had boarded a plane to meet up with the team.

"Not bad," Goodwin said honestly after taking a glance.

Huh?

Paul Pierce was very unhappy with that answer. Kid, what did you just say?

Pierce decided to force an honest answer out of him. He grabbed Goodwin by the neck and said, "Goodwin, I'm giving you one more chance. Say it again. Am I handsome?"

Goodwin looked utterly speechless. Clutching his conscience, he said, "I didn't get a good look just now. Now that I have, Senior Paul, you're really handsome."

My conscience hurts so much.

Paul Pierce let go of Goodwin, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. That's more like it, kid.

Paul Pierce was very pleased with his performance in the All-Star Game. Coming off the bench, he played 13 minutes and went 4-for-8, scoring 8 points, grabbing 1 rebound, and dishing out 2 assists.

Goodwin shot Paul Pierce a withering look. What a self-centered senior!

A little over half an hour later, the two boarded their flight to Boston.

The flight would take more than six hours. By the time they arrived in Boston, it would probably be morning, so as soon as Goodwin got on the plane, he put on his headphones and eye mask and went to sleep.

Sleeping on a plane was incredibly uncomfortable, but he had to do it. He couldn't afford to waste time.

Once he woke up, he could get back to training for another day.

Paul Pierce was wide awake and wanted to chat with Goodwin, but after talking for a while without getting any response, he turned to look—and nearly exploded with anger.

The guy was asleep!

Paul Pierce took a deep breath and silently held back the urge to beat Goodwin up.

Goodwin slept through the entire flight. It wasn't until the plane landed and Paul Pierce woke him that he finally stirred.

As soon as he woke up, he felt a dull ache in his neck.

Goodwin slowly rolled his neck, easing the soreness.

Then he got off the plane. After saying goodbye to Senior Paul, he returned home, ate the nutritious meal he'd prepared, and hurried straight to the training facility.

The staff member responsible for opening up stared at Goodwin in confusion. "Goodwin, didn't you just finish playing in the All-Star Game? Shouldn't you take another day off?"

"No." Goodwin shook his head. He'd have plenty of time to rest after he retired.

The team had no group practice scheduled that day, so Goodwin had the entire training facility to himself. Aside from bathroom and meal breaks, he spent all his time there.

A little after six that evening, Doc Rivers returned to pick up a few things and noticed the lights were on in the training facility.

There wasn't any team practice today. Who was in there?

Puzzled, Doc Rivers found himself heading toward the training facility.

Soon, Doc Rivers reached the entrance. When he saw Goodwin inside, he wasn't surprised at all. If anything, he thought it was only natural.

While walking over, Doc Rivers had already guessed that it might be Goodwin.

And he was right. It was Goodwin.

To make it in the NBA—and climb to the top—talent and hard work were both essential.

Doc Rivers watched for a while, then turned and left without disturbing Goodwin's training.

The following evening, a little after five, at TD Garden. With about two hours until tip-off, Goodwin rubbed his stomach. He was a little hungry, so he left the locker room to go buy something to eat.

There were usually food vendors outside the arena.

Before long, Goodwin found a hot dog stand.

"Boss, give me ten hot dogs." The hot dogs looked delicious, and Goodwin couldn't resist.

Although he was a basketball player now, sometimes even he couldn't resist good food.

Every so often, Goodwin let himself indulge—once a month.

"Sure thing, just give me a moment." The hot dog vendor had barely finished speaking when he looked up at Goodwin and froze.

"Goodwin!" the vendor exclaimed.

Goodwin greeted him warmly. "Hello."

"Oh my God, I can't believe I'm actually seeing you, Goodwin! Could you please sign an autograph for me? My daughter really likes you." The vendor hurried off to get a pen and paper.

"Of course." Goodwin took the pen and paper the vendor handed him, signed his name, and asked, "What's your daughter's name?"

"Ruth."

Under the name, Goodwin wrote: Ruth, thank you for being a fan. I wish you good health and a happy life.

The vendor took the paper and glanced at what Goodwin had written. "Thank you, Goodwin. My daughter will love it."

"My pleasure."

"Good luck in tonight's game."

"I will."

After eating his fill, Goodwin returned to the locker room.

As soon as he walked in, the "fragrance" coming off him reached every player's nose.

"What's that smell? It smells so good!"

"Is that hot dogs?"

"Who's eating hot dogs?"

His teammates all turned to look at Goodwin, who had just walked in.

Goodwin answered honestly, "I was. I got a little hungry, so I..."

Before he could finish, Mike James and Vin Baker rushed over and beat him up.

The nerve of eating without sharing!

"Goodwin, here's your chance. Treat us to hot dogs."

So Goodwin got beaten up and had to treat everyone, too.

Goodwin asked quietly, "Can I get reimbursed?"

Paul Pierce glared at him, and Goodwin immediately dashed out of the locker room to buy hot dogs.

Once Goodwin was gone, Paul Pierce said to his teammates, "Why should the rookie have to pay? This one's on me."

"Thanks, Pierce."

"Captain, you're the best."

"Good!"

A little over twenty minutes later, Goodwin returned with the hot dogs. His teammates swarmed him and polished them off in no time.

As he ate, Paul Pierce asked, "Goodwin, how much did it all cost? I'll pay you back in a bit."

He was getting reimbursed?

Goodwin promptly named his price. "One hundred."

After they finished eating, Paul Pierce reached into his pocket and handed Goodwin two hundred-dollar bills.

Goodwin took them and immediately stuffed them into his pocket, afraid Paul Pierce might change his mind. "Senior Paul, just leave these errands to me from now on." The more jobs like this, the better. A hundred-dollar tip each time—what a steal.

"Dream on. You're a basketball player, too, and you make hundreds of thousands a year." Paul Pierce laughed helplessly.

"Senior Paul, I'm nowhere near your level."

Paul Pierce was currently on a six-year, $79 million contract, and he also had an endorsement deal with Nike.

Compared to him, Goodwin was really "broke." He had to think carefully before spending every dollar.

If he spent money as freely as his teammates, he'd be bankrupt in no time.

"That's true. You'd better work hard and earn yourself a big extension. I believe in you," Paul Pierce encouraged him.

"I will, Senior Paul."

At seven that evening, the Boston Celtics players emerged one by one from the tunnel as the announcer introduced them and the fans cheered.

Their opponents that night were the formidable Sacramento Kings.