Kane Edwards was a normal boy, born from a normal mother, who led a normal life, and died a normal death. And that sequence of events is abnormal. For you see, Kane Edwards should have led an Extraordinary life, should have achieved all of his heart's desires, and should have become someone known around the world.
At least, that's what Kane would say if anyone had asked him what he thought of the path his life took. Well..that's what he WOULD have said, if it was possible for him to speak that is. But, as he stared up at the night sky, Kane was having a hard enough time keeping his thoughts focused on one idea, let alone even entertaining the idea of speaking.
Looking down at his chest, Kane observed the reason for his forced muteness. A long, jagged, piece of red metal that shined under the full moon and stars. Its brilliance this particular night was the result of a unique combination of factors; the years of care and love provided by its owner over the years, and a fresh coating of his blood. For on this night, this piece of metal was not a part of the bright red 1969 mustang as it had been for the past 100 years, but rather it had become an intruder in Kane's body. An intruder that completely destroyed some critical organs in said body, and probably could be identified as the main cause behind his death.
Kane gave a wet chuckle, the irony of this situation could not be understated. The car that he foolishly spent his life savings on, and which he had diligently cared for over the past 5 years had become a critical supporting character in the final act of the life of Kane Edwards. The main character, a drunk teen, was long gone. Pieces of Kane's car diligently clinging to the front of this villain's car.
"At least some of my car shows appreciation for the love I've given it," Kane thought, hopeful that maybe these pieces would help the police identify his killer. As he felt his breath get shallower, Kane could not help but think back to the other "acts" of the tragedy of his life.
Kane Edwards had been born a healthy baby boy to two loving parents on a beautiful day in late July. An idyllic birth on an idyllic day, and the following 6 months after his birth followed the same theme: idyllic. Until one night in late December, when a tired truck driver drove his vehicle into the drivers side of the Edwards family car. Fortunately, in some sort of divine miracle, the car absorbed most of the impact and Kane's mother was relatively unharmed. Baby Kane was worst off, but was able to escape the accident with his life and a head injury whose effects weren't felt until years later. Unfortunately, Kane's father, as the driver, wasn't as lucky and died immediately upon impact.
"How ironic, eh? Both me and good ole' dad done in by reckless drivers. At least in this aspect, we're alike." Kane thought. In fact, he pondered, if Kane had a middle name it would probably be "Irony".
"Maybe I was wrong earlier? Rather than a tragedy, I think my life would be most accurately labeled a comedy." Kane deliberated bitterly.
Although Kane's mother could be labeled "ordinary" in respect to other humans, Kane's dad was anything but. Despite only being 18, he had already become a nationally recognized name due to his gifts. So much so that "gifts" might actually be an understatement, if this was a Wuxia novel it would have been more accurate to label them "Cheat-like skills". Kane's father, Abel, was so good at basketball that he was already being compared to all-stars in the NBA. He was the Lebron James of his generation, both in terms of ability and attention. A freak athlete and a basketball IQ that was off the charts. Not to mention a gym rat, or "a genius of hard work" to the cultured. Truly, he was too OP. Maybe that was why his life was cut short? At least, that's what Kane liked to believe. Regardless, his tragic death sent ripples in the basketball world and instantly became one of the biggest "What ifs?" in sports history.
The story of Abel Edwards' life was truly a tragedy, but one with a silver lining in the eyes of some. For although Abel was gone forever, he left a piece of himself behind; a son. Many looked to young Kane Edwards with hope, eagerly waiting for him to follow in the footsteps of his already legendary father. Sadly, their wait was in vain as it was evident from even a young age that Kane possessed not even a single iota of his fathers talent.
Where Abel was quick and decisive, Kane was slow and hesitant. Where Abel was powerful and graceful driving to the hoop, Kane would trip on his own two feet after just one dribble. Where Abel led you to believe he couldn't miss a shot even if he took hundreds of them, Kane made you wonder if he could make one shot if he was given 1,000 tries. Abel was an apex predator on the court, it would be generous to label Kane a cub. In fact, if Kane was a cub he probably would have died in the wild. The only similarities between the two was their love for the game and their exemplary IQ. But what good was IQ if the kid was a safety hazard on the court!
Such were the thoughts of those who traveled far and wide to watch the son of Abel Edwards play. Regardless of the fact that the games they were watching were in little league, these observers truly thought that even if Kane trained for years under the best trainers in the world, he would have trouble making it onto a High School varsity team. Maybe a little too harsh of an opinion to have towards a 6 year old, but one that was probably true. Because the reality is that no matter how long Kane trained and practiced, it was impossible for him to be a good basketball player due his absolutely atrocious depth perception.
Maybe it was due to the accident that took his fathers life, or maybe the ire of some god or other higher power. Regardless of the cause, the fact remained that Kane's depth perception was terrible. Where other children were walking as early as 2 years old, it took Kane until he was 4 years old before he could reliably walk without crashing into things. Thankfully after that first hurtle, his perception didn't really negatively impact his life. Except in one aspect, Kane could live a normal life and was not hindered in any way. Of course, this aspect was one that meant Kane never felt like he could live a full life.
Because how could anyone be good at basketball if they couldn't accurately and reliably tell the distance between things? How could he shoot if he couldn't tell how far away the rim is, and apply the accurate amount of force? How could he take a layup if he couldn't tell the right time to jump? That's not even mentioning the added pressure of trying to do all this while being defended by someone. In basketball, timing was everything. Kane, whose timing was dreadful as a result of his perception, could never become truly good at basketball. Let alone great like his father.
Perhaps, in time, if Kane could dedicate the majority of his day to training basketball he could become good enough to be a solid role player on a high school team after years of effort. But it was impossible to dedicate so much time on a "hobby" for a child like Kane. As such, the combination of this insurmountable setback and Kane's shame at not being able to follow in his fathers footsteps led him to drop basketball before the age of 8. But Kane's inherited love for the game could not be forgotten so easily, and Kane continued being an avid fan for the rest of his short life.
And so Kane Edwards was cursed. Dammed to love a game that he could never truly enjoy for himself.
"If I had to give my life a title, it would probably be something along the lines of 'The Heart's Unattainable Desire". That sounds suitably dramatic." Kane thought weakly. With each passing moment it became harder and harder for Kane to breathe, and he knew that soon doing so would feel like an impossible task. Maybe because soon, it would be.
"Hmm, truly a fitting title, perfect for a depressing and angsty scrub like you." Someone, who was not there before Kane started reviewing his life story, mused.
Startled, the final dredges of adrenaline in Kane's body allowed him to suddenly open his eyes.
There, standing over his body and curiously observing his wound, was Michael Jordan.