When I was younger, my father and I would make the 30-minute drive from Norman to Oklahoma City and wait outside the steel doors of Chesapeake Energy Arena, clutching our Thunder season tickets and the thrill of studying superstars' secrets. Ninety minutes until tipoff, we'd march down the stairs, close to the court and get a front-row seat for the pregame training regimens of the best players on the planet.
I watched Kevin Durant balancing his weight shooting on one leg, and then the other. I watched Kyrie Irving pounding his dribble side-to-side. Steve Nash, bending his knees all the way down and rising up.