The Last Shot – The Story of Marcus Greene

Marcus Greene was never supposed to make it.

Born and raised in the rough neighborhoods of South Side Chicago, Marcus grew up surrounded by gunshots, poverty, and a daily fight for survival. His mother worked two jobs just to keep the lights on. His father? He left before Marcus could even say “dad.”

The only thing that kept Marcus grounded was basketball. He wasn’t tall for his age, nor was he particularly strong, but he had heart — and that made all the difference.

At age 12, Marcus would dribble an old, torn basketball on cracked concrete courts for hours after school. He’d practice his shots under the dull glow of broken streetlights, imagining the sound of a roaring crowd, the squeak of sneakers on hardwood, and his name being called on national television.

But no one else imagined it.

Teachers labeled him a troublemaker. The coaches saw little potential. He was “too short,” “too raw,” “too wild.” But Marcus didn’t listen to any of that. He believed in the voice inside him that said: You can be more.

When he was 15, tragedy struck. His older brother, Darnell, was shot in a drive-by shooting. Darnell had been Marcus’s protector, his best friend, his mentor. Losing him shattered something inside Marcus. For weeks, he didn’t touch a basketball. He didn't go to school. He got into fights.

One night, his mother sat beside him and whispered, “You wanna end up like Darnell, or you gonna make this pain mean something?”

That question burned in his mind. From that day on, Marcus changed.

He trained harder than ever. Woke up at 5 a.m. to run drills. Studied game tapes in the school library. He improved — slowly at first, but then all at once. His junior year in high school, he averaged 18 points per game. His senior year, 25.

Still, the big colleges didn’t call.

But a small Division II school in Ohio, Lakemont University, offered him a partial scholarship. It wasn’t Duke or UCLA, but it was a chance — and that was all Marcus needed.

College life was hard. The pressure, the racism, the financial struggles — they all weighed on him. There were nights he went to sleep hungry. There were days he wanted to quit.

But he didn’t.

He played with grit, determination, and raw passion. Fans started noticing. Marcus led Lakemont to their first NCAA Division II championship by his senior year. He averaged 28 points, 6 assists, and 5 rebounds that season. Suddenly, scouts were watching.

But then, in the final game of the season, with just 2 minutes left on the clock, Marcus landed awkwardly after a layup. A sharp pain shot through his knee. He screamed. He knew instantly — it was bad.

A torn ACL.

He was crushed by the news. NBA dreams faded overnight. Teams pulled out. Agents stopped calling.

The weeks that followed were the darkest of his life. He was back home, limping through his old neighborhood, watching younger kids play on the same courts he once ruled. It felt like his story was over.

But then something unexpected happened.

One day, he saw a kid — maybe 13 or 14 — mimicking one of his old moves. The kid looked up and said, “Aren’t you Marcus Greene? You’re the reason I started playing.”

That moment lit a fire again.

Marcus began coaching. First on street courts, then at local community centers. His passion shifted from playing to teaching. He started a youth basketball program called “Last Shot,” dedicated to helping kids from tough neighborhoods chase their dreams — both on and off the court.

Word spread. The program expanded. Within two years, it expanded across Chicago. Former NBA players volunteered. Donations came in. Kids who had once been written off were now getting college scholarships.

Marcus’s story caught national attention.

He was invited to speak on talk shows. ESPN did a feature on him titled “More Than a Game.” He was honored by the President for his contribution to youth development through sports.

Then came the full circle moment.

On a cold March evening, Marcus received a call from the Chicago Bulls. Not to play — but to coach. They wanted him as an assistant development coach for their youth outreach program. He accepted with tears in his eyes.

He never made it to the NBA as a player — but he impacted it in a way that numbers and stats never could.

Today, Marcus Greene is a name every young baller in Chicago knows.

Not because he was the fastest or the strongest, but because he refused to give up. Because he turned pain into purpose. Because he believed — and made others believe — that one shot can change a life.

Sometimes, the last shot isn’t the one you take on the court.

Sometimes, it’s the one you give to someone else.