June 28th, 2012, was a night I will never forget.
My father and I traveled north to New York City — about 13 hours by car — a few days prior in anticipation of the NBA Draft. I had never gone in person, but regularly referred to it as “Draft-mas,” throwing a party annually for those closest to me who also enjoy the event. Growing up a diehard in Louisville, there isn’t a lot of accessible NBA action, so attending the draft presented the perfect marriage of the college and professional worlds for a brief moment.