The slightly crooked basketball hoop in his family's Congress Park back yard holds many memories and meanings for Kevin Fletcher. Dribbling a ball under that basket one hot afternoon last week, Kevin thought about the times his driveway suddenly turned into the gleaming floor of the L.A. Forum. About the times he had become Magic Johnson, pulling up to sink the jumper that won the game. Slam-dunking the ball now with the ease of a business executive dropping a crumpled piece of paper in the trash, he thought about his first three years of high school, when he didn't play any hoops. None. He thought about his incredible teenage growth spurt -- eight inches in a single year, a Jack-and-the-Beanstalk number, Ripley's Believe It or Not stuff -- that virtually forced him onto the basketball court at East High... More >>>