The Night I Should’ve Met Fred McLeod
I was sixteen years old. Christmas had just passed and, as a gift to myself, was now heading up 77-N to the Q. One ticket. Primetime. Home, against the Celtics. I got to the arena early, grabbed a bite, and sat down to watch warm-ups. Fresh off the title, the Cavs still carried team-wide energy … The Night I Should’ve Met Fred McLeod