What a great story. It reminds me of one of my NBA favorites, Connie Hawkins. Hawkins was born lower than poor in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood of New York when it produced two things: heroin junkies and the best blacktop court basketball players in the world. Hawkins was acknowledged as the best of the best and was recruited to play basketball at the University of Iowa just in time for the great college points shaving scandal of 1961. Although Hawkins received a few perks for signing with Iowa that were not necessarily kosher with the all-amateur, all the time (yeah, sure) NCAA, he was never even associated with any of the gamblers implicated in the points shaving scandal, let alone took part. He was a freshman at the time, and freshmen weren't even allowed to play varsity, so there was no way he could have shaved points if he wanted to . But for reasons that are hard to understand, Hawkins got kicked out of college and banned from the NBA. He bounced around, playing for the Harlem Globetrotters, hustling playground games and playing in the upstart ABA before he was finally able to win a lawsuit against the NBA and enter the league. He got a pretty large settlement and made good money as an NBA player, but he lost too many years to the road and didn't play in the NBA as long or productively as he should have. But he still was able to achieve a more than comfortable life and achieved stardom in the NBA.
Despite his success on the court and monetary security off it, Hawkins had a peculiar habit. He always carried a hundred dollar bill in his pocket. Before every game he would hand it to his coach without saying a word. The coach would secure the bill and would return it to Hawkins at the end of the game:
"Perhaps, Hawkins’ career is best summed up by former ABA player (and later-Hornets coach) Gene Littles, who told Pluto that 'I played on a summer barn-storming team with him [when Hawkins already had his lucrative Phoenix contract], and Connie always kept a $100 bill balled up in his pocket. Right before he’d go on the floor, he’d give the crumpled-up bill to the coach and tell him to keep it until the game was over. I guess Connie figured no matter what happened, he’d always have $100. Probably that was how you thought if you came from Brooklyn and went through all that Connie did.'"
https://www.espn.com/classic/s/basketball_scandals_molinas.html