Blasian

Jamaal held up the trophy to the adoring crowd. They all cheered him. He'd brought even greater success to a franchise accustomed to it. Five championships in the last eighteen years, and he was still a double-double machine in his late 30s.

He reached down, cupping the ass of his wife, Rin. The Asian beauty wasn't dancing anymore, having segued flawlessly into the life of a trophy wife. Their three children, a mixture of their Black and Japanese heritage, played in front of them on the float. Life was good, although Jamaal did think of Elizabeth now and then, his son J.D., and the path not taken.