The Stranger That Changed My Life: What Will You Do for Someone Who Can Do Nothing for You?

By Marke Z. Freeman

Ron, Marke & Jill - April 2025

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The New Neighborhood, the Basketball Hoop, and the Mysterious Man Next Door

When we moved to the west side of the city, it was supposed to be safer. Calmer.But to me, it was unfamiliar.

I was the new kid from the smallest house on the block, wandering through my surroundings, trying to figure out where I belonged. Then I saw it.

A basketball hoop—mounted above a paved driveway, just a few steps away from our home. My eyes lit up.

Basketball was my first love. It wasn’t just a game to me—it was freedom. Belonging. Escape.

But I didn’t dare ask to use it. Our family looked very different from everyone in our new neighborhood, and I didn’t want to be considered a nuisance. So every day, I dribbled alone in our backyard—on an uneven patch of grass. Dreaming.

And then I noticed something.

A black pickup truck would pull into that driveway—the one with the hoop. In the back of the truck? Wooden planks. Every. Single. Day.

The man driving it looked like a character out of Home Improvement—quiet, steady, always working. He reminded me of Wilson W. Wilson—wise and always tinkering. His name? Ron.

He spent his days building, repairing, tending to flowers, always in and out of his shed like a craftsman on a mission.

One afternoon, my brothers and I gave in. We couldn’t take it anymore. We noticed the black truck was gone, and we just had to play.

We ran to the neighbor’s hoop and jumped into a full-on, sweat-drenched pickup game.

Then we heard it.

The black truck pulled in.

Busted.

I froze mid-dribble, heart pounding. We were caught. I expected to be told to leave, to never step foot on that driveway again.

Ron rolled down his window and asked,“Who’s winning?”

We all looked around in disbelief—then laughed. He smiled and said the words I’d been praying for:

“You guys can play here anytime.”

I couldn’t believe it. That was it. The green light. I lived on that hoop all summer—10 PM, 11 PM, even past midnight. Every night until my mom called for me.

Ron and his wife, Jill, were empty nesters, but they never acted like they were alone. They were the kind of people who cared even when they didn’t have to.

One evening, my mom was outside talking to them, admiring the moonflowers blooming in their yard. Ron explained they only opened at night.

I thought that was magic.

I made it my mission to watch them bloom regularly and told my friends like I had discovered some secret garden.

A few days later, we pulled into our driveway… and saw that Ron and Jill had planted the same moonflowers around the tree in our yard.

For us. For my mom.

Who does that?

I realized kindness is the best gift you can give a stranger.

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon. My mom, siblings, and I had been out running errands.

As soon as we pulled up, I bolted out of the car with my basketball like I always did. I raced through the house, cutting through the backyard to get to the hoop next door.

But then I stopped cold.

Something was in our yard that wasn’t there before we left. Something BIG.And it wasn’t supposed to be there.

I ran back into the house like it was on fire.

“COME OUTSIDE—RIGHT NOW!” I screamed with urgency. “HURRY!!”

My mom and brothers flew out the back door behind me.

And there it was.

A brand new, regulation-sized hoop. In OUR backyard.Built. Cemented. Perfectly positioned. 10 feet. Pure white net. Old school orange square.And I couldn’t believe my eyes—the same wooden planks I had seen for months in the bed of Ron’s black truck.

He had built it. For me.

I don't know if he did it because he was tired of me shooting at ungodly hours or to fan my fire, but I would like to believe it was the latter.

I walked up and touched it like it wasn’t real.

I turned—and there stood Ron and Jill, waving from their porch with a soft smile.

They didn’t say a word.

They didn’t need to.

What Started As A Ripple...

Ron didn’t know me. He didn’t owe me anything. I couldn’t give him anything in return.

But he gave anyway.

He gave me access. He gave me encouragement. He gave me a reason to believe in what could be.

I trained on that hoop every day. Perfected my arc to shoot around the power lines, where the rim was perfectly planted in a plot of cement. I dribbled until the grass disappeared—replaced by my hunger to become better.

That hoop built my jump shot.

That jump shot took me to the next level. To college. To playing professional basketball all over the world. To founding the Max-OUT Foundation, where we now serve youth, student-athletes, and future leaders—Because I know the power of one simple YES.

20 Years Later: A Full-Circle Moment

Many ask if I’m still in contact with Ron and Jill. Until earlier this year, I would've said no.

I searched high and low for them. And after more than 20 years—I was blessed with the opportunity to reunite with Ron and his lovely wife, Jill.

I couldn’t wait to look them in the eyes and say, “Thank you.”

To show them what their kindness created. To let them know their impact is in my book CHAMPIONS’ Creed. To hug them. To honor them. To remind them that they planted a seed that blossomed into a life of purpose.

That moment reminded me: No act of kindness is ever wasted. It always creates a ripple.

What Ripple Will You Start?

This story isn’t about basketball. It’s about what we choose to give, even when we have no idea what it might grow into.

Ron may never fully know what he gave me that day. But his story lives on through mine—and through every young person I now serve.

That’s the power of story. That’s the heart of leadership.And that’s what I teach inside Speak Like a Pro Academy™.

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My Best,

—Marke Z. Freeman