He Makes Millions But Writes His Resume at 3 AM — The Streetball Data Poet Who Saw NBA Dreams in Chicago’s Backyard

The Court Where Numbers Don’t Sleep

I used to watch the clock tick past midnight after my dad’s taxi shift ended—not because I had to be a data analyst, but because the kids out here still believed in dreams bigger than contracts.

The city doesn’t pay you in euros or dollars—it pays you in dunks, steal attempts, and the quiet hum of a basketball hitting pavement at 2:47 AM. That’s when the real scouts come—not with spreadsheets, but with worn-out sneakers and cracked rims.

Juma Bach? Nah. We Knew Him Better.

They said ‘Juma Bach’ was going to Manchester. Fine. So we started Googling ‘Oscar Bob’ or ‘Abdulck Dier H桑诺夫’—names that sounded like French poetry translated by Google Translate.

But then we saw James Mckitty on a backcourt in Englewood—no jersey number, just a hoodie and three-pointers at dawn. That’s when he made his resume.

Not on LinkedIn. On the concrete. At 3 AM. With one stat: “Still playing.”

You Ain’t Alone In This Game

I never got drafted by Fortune. I got drafted by grit, dreams that don’t fit into CBA contracts, but fit into cracked asphalt under streetlights— because every kid who stays late… is already writing his next play.

You think this is transfer news? Nah. This is your story too. You’re not alone in this game.