Lamar Davis grew up in the streets of Los Angeles, and surrounded by basketball he developed a love for the sport. He has played basketball ever since, and like many kids he had a dream to play in the NBA. He practiced every day, played even in rain and when he was sick. He lived for the sport, he truly loved it. It culturally and widely accepted that someone could play it so much. His love only grew the more he played it.

School felt like a distraction for him, he skipped classes and exams, snuck out at night just to play it. It was his determination for the sport that drove him to play it professionally. He spent days, weeks, months, even years perfecting every possible skill to maximize performance. He had a goal, and he wouldn’t quit until he joined the NBA. To him every game felt unique, more fun the other. He played in high school, college, the lower leagues, until he got drafted for the NBA. He felt as if he had accomplished everything that he had ever wanted to accomplish. They accepted him for a team, and his NBA career had just started. The only thing he could see were opportunities, fame, and of course, the sport itself.

He showed up for award shows, he appeared on TV. He practiced for the matches, played, scored, and had fun. But as time went on the idea of fame kept getting to him, and the idea of the sport just faded. He had less interest to play than to speak publically, have an influence, be thought of as a god. It was getting to his head. He started thinking that he was above the average man, that money and fame made him a more important person, an idol. That impacted his game. So much even that it got him kicked out from the NBA. His fans decided that he was too self-centered. He responded in a bad way, saying that he is above mortal man, how, because of the money and fame, he should be in the NBA and should run it.

And like many people when faced with defeat, or rejection, he turned to alcohol, drugs alike. He couldn’t fathom the idea of not being an influence, an idol. He spent many days, weeks, months in his apartment. He was losing money, influence, and had lost the idea of him ever playing basketball again. He started to hate it, for what it had done to him. After some time he realized that he had ruined himself, not the sport. He had nothing else to live for, he took a gun, loaded it, and shot himself in the forehead.