Dylan Darling grew up with a basketball at his feet, a hoop in the driveway, and an older crowd that didn't believe in handing anything over.
He learned to play by getting knocked down and getting back up. He learned to shoot in the dark, in the rain, with cold hands. By the time he was old enough to wear a uniform, the work had already been done a thousand times in private.
Today Dylan wears number zero for St. John's, in the city where the game still means something on every block. He plays the way he was raised: hard, low, and on time. He competes in the Big East, in front of crowds that don't forgive a quiet half. He keeps a journal. He answers his own email.
Off the floor, he's a New Yorker by adoption — a Mets fan, a long-walk guy, a stay-after-practice guy. Anything else worth knowing is in the film.
