The women at the front desk of the Rainier Vista Boys and Girls Club in south Seattle know Roy works out daily in this shiny gym for kids built with high-end donor dollars. You can walk in, ask for him through the glass, and they'll hit the buzzer after you sign your name.

It's easy for the manic kids playing foosball in a room adjacent to the gym to love Roy. The high-pitched cracks in his voice disarm as does the light in his eyes and persistent smile. The kids in Seattle celebrate Roy because he's one of them. A star at nearby Garfield High School, then the University of Washington -- Roy is a card-carrying member of "Home Team," the name a group of Seattle-area basketball brethren has given itself.

Most at the Boys and Girls Club don't know that for the price of a reputable used car the ache in Roy's knees, his confounding, heartbreaking, game-winning hinges, was removed. They don't care he can point to the place a needle re-inserted his blood to provide a second self-healing in less than a year, this one physical, the first one mental and emotional following the sudden, yet temporary, end of his career.