LOUISVILLE — Just home from work, Joe Alexander was sitting on his sofa watching a college basketball game. He can’t remember exactly who was playing, but he knows it was a decent matchup. For Joe, a 1,200-point scorer at Niagara back in the day, this was about as good a way to spend an afternoon as he could imagine. His teenage son did not have the same vision. While Joe watched hoops, Kyle was, as he always was in those days, parked upstairs in his bedroom, playing video games with some remote friend.
For years Joe had let it go, content to allow his son to be his own person. But the kid was 16 years old and 6-foot-6. Joe marched upstairs and popped open the door to Kyle’s room. “I’m going to put you in basketball,’’ he said without preamble. “You need to learn how to play.’’ Kyle, with all the insouciance that only a teenager can muster, shrugged. “OK,’’ he said.
Two days later, Joe stood peering into the windows of Bobby Allen’s gym…
