This book is one part vividly detailed portrait of the Bronx back before it got really fucked the fuck, before it caught fire during the world series, back when white people (aside from Necro) still lived in the projects, and one part interesting but not particularly enlightening story about how the author managed to escape, right as the area took a turn for the worse, via basketball skillz. He sold heroin, shot it up, robbed at least five people with a ginormous knife, spent time on Rikers Island, and then avoided getting buried underneath the prison, upstate somewhere, when his mom threw a fit in the courtroom. Then a mere matter of months later he was off at some boarding school, sharing a room with some rich white kid who probably had no idea he was fresh out the booty house. From there it was off to some college no one ever heard of and pro ball in Belgium, where I wonder if he crossed paths with Sexual Healing-era Marvin Gaye. It's an amazing story. Alas, some of the parts most interesting to a brother like me were kinda glossed over, probably because the guy is like 60 now and that wasn't the point of the book.