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Fight Night

In March 1966, Muhammad Ali refused to be drafted into the Army to fight in the Vietnam War, citing his Islamic faith as a reason and claiming conscientious objector status. At the peak of his boxing career, he was banned from the sport and spent the next four years in and out of the courtroom. In October 1970, he was finally granted a license to fight in Georgia, and on October 26th, he faced Jerry “The Bellflower Bomber” Quarry in Atlanta. In front of a sellout crowd, Ali took Quarry down in only three rounds, setting off a night of celebration in Atlanta’s Black community. At one infamous party, a group of Black gangsters celebrating the victory were set up and robbed at gunpoint by another group of Black gangsters, setting off a chain reaction of botched reprisals and mutual misunderstandings worthy of a Coen Brothers movie. 

Years later, journalist Jeff Keating, writing for the Atlanta alternative weekly Creative Loafing, discovered that the person who threw the party, an ambitious hustler known as Chicken Man, was not killed, as had long been reported, but instead had survived the ordeal and was living under an assumed name in Atlanta. Keating recounted the too-weird-to-be-true story in his true crime podcast Fight Night. Released in 2020 during the height of the Covid-19 pandemic, it became a huge hit. Writer/producer Shaye Ogbonna and comedian Kevin Hart pitched the story to Universal Television, who ultimately ordered an eight-part limited series for their new streaming service Peacock. 

Craig Brewer poses at the Fight Night premiere in New York City (Photo: Jamie McCarthy/Peacock)

One of the first calls they made was to Memphis director Craig Brewer. “I got this job the old-fashioned way,” he says. “I got a call from my agents saying that [executive producer] Will Packer and Kevin Hart wanted to meet with me on a project. … Shaye, the creator, has been a fan of my films, particularly Hustle & Flow, which he saw in Atlanta.” 

Brewer was intrigued by the story and impressed with the rough drafts of the first two episodes, which were all that existed at the time. “I remember reading the script and thinking to myself, ‘This guy Shaye and I, I think are gonna really get along.’ We have the same interests in movies and TV and music. But more importantly, it’s something I always remember John Singleton talking to me about: ‘Is there regional specificity to this voice?’ And I was like, yeah, this feels like a guy from the South, in Atlanta, making movies from his heart, his culture, and his experience. It felt real to me; it felt furnished and honest and, above all, exciting.”

Fight Night: The Million Dollar Heist was on its way to the screen. 

Putting the Team Together

Kevin Hart’s Hartbeat and Will Packer Media had produced the podcast, says Brewer. “Kevin was always going to be Chicken Man. That was from the jump. Then I came on and we started putting together the other cast members.” 

Kevin Hart stars as Chicken Man, the small-time hustler who gets in over his head in Fight Night.  (Photo: Eli Joshua Adé/PEACOCK)

Samuel L. Jackson, an acting legend who Brewer worked with in 2006’s Black Snake Moan, was quickly cast as New York gangster Frank Moten. Taraji P. Henson, who was the breakout star of Hustle & Flow, came onboard as Vivian, Chicken Man’s partner in crime. “She was always at the top of the list,” says Brewer. “Then Will Packer called me and said, ‘We gotta go get your boy Terrence.’” 

Jackson as Moten ignores the press before the big fight. (Photo: Eli Joshua Adé/PEACOCK)

The producers thought Terrence Howard, star of Hustle & Flow, would be perfect for gangster Richard “Cadillac” Wheeler. “I’m speaking to you from New Jersey, so I’m speaking to you from Cadillac Richie’s territory,” says Brewer.

After Hustle, Brewer had directed Henson and Howard in the hit TV series Empire. “I called up Terrence, and I was kinda talking him into doing the show. I said to him, ‘Listen, it’s me. I’m gonna let you get up on that tight rope like you usually do. I’ll be your net. What I want you to do is bring your creativity to this and create this character because he’s an important character as the series goes on. I’m gonna just agree to anything you wanna do and help you get it.’ Then he said, ‘Well, I wanna look like one of the Bee Gees. That’s what I wanna do.’ I just remember feeling like, ‘Oh no, what is this gonna look like?’ But then he showed up, and I thought, ‘This cat is gonna steal this show because he looks amazing. … I don’t know if he’s gonna take it off ever again.’” 

The final big get for the cast was Don Cheadle. The actor/director was on Brewer’s bucket list. “I have always wanted to work with Don, and it was everything that I could have dreamed for and more. He’s a great actor, yes. But I would say that with him — and I would put Sam Jackson in the same category — you’re not just getting somebody’s acting talent, you’re getting their experience of making, watching, and living the art of storytelling. They have an eye for things that some younger actors do not have. Are we telling the right story? They make you better because they hold you to a standard of making sure that you’re doing right, not only by their character, but how their character interacts with everybody. So there were countless times that Don Cheadle would take me and Shaye off into his trailer, and we would work a scene. By the time we left the trailer, Shaye and I would look at each other and just go, ‘Man, the scene is just so much better!’” 

Fight Night is filled with star power, in a way very few TV shows have ever been. “The thing about movie stars is, they are decided by the people,” says Brewer. “This show is packed with five movie stars.” 

Hotlanta

Fight Night was filmed in Atlanta, Georgia. The series features extensive location shoots among the split-level ranch houses of the suburbs and in the dense city center. Crucial scenes were shot in the distinctive Hyatt Regency Atlanta, whose 22-story atrium influenced hotel design for a generation.  

“There is a crucial monologue in episode two that Sam Jackson delivers, where he’s talking about his vision for Atlanta,” says Brewer. “He wants Black people put in places of power, and for the economic future of Atlanta to be Black. It’s funny because you look at the monologue, and you can imagine if it were being said in 1970 to an all-white audience, it may seem outlandish. But last night at the premiere, there were cheers because you realize that dream is here and realized. So it’s very interesting to talk to young people about Atlanta at this crucial time in its history, in the early 1970s, where they were on a campaign that I feel is comparable to Memphis’ history, and to Memphis’ present, which is to deny that you are living, working, and thriving in a Black city. It is to your own peril if you fight against it. 

“Atlanta is a city that is open for business. We’re too busy to be dealing with any of that racist bullshit. We’re here to make some money, and I’ll be damned if that’s not the Atlanta that I go to all the time when I’m filming these movies. This is my third project in Atlanta. I’ve been there the whole time that Atlanta has said that they wanna be the next Hollywood. And so many people saying, well, that’s not gonna last, or this is gonna be transitional, or the industry is gonna change. I am telling you right now, no one wants to call it out, but production in Atlanta is there to stay. I don’t see this returning back to Hollywood as long as there’s places like Atlanta.” 

Brewer had worked on episodic network TV with Empire, but Fight Night was his first limited series, a form that has become more common in the streaming era. Brewer compares the experience to shooting an eight-hour movie. Brewer directed the first two and last two episodes, and collaborated on the writing of the entire series. He describes the process as a mixture of careful prep and on-the-fly improv. 

“I got a call from Shaye saying, ‘We got this idea to do the scene between Sam Jackson and Don Cheadle in an interrogation room,’” Brewer recalls. “We locked ourselves in a room and banged out this scene, probably had it written by like 8 o’clock, 9 o’clock at night. Then, the following morning, I went down to the sound stage and there they were, doing the scene that mere hours ago we had worked on. It’s amazing how fast it all happened. It was just so special because there’d be these moments where Shaye and I would write something, and we knew, ‘Okay, right here, Sam’s gonna probably make this part better. So let’s move on and know that he’s gonna come up with something great to say here — and sure enough, he did! It was this great moment of watching these titans just being amazing.” 

Kevin Hart, one of the driving forces behind the development of the series, took the most chances. One of the best-known comedians in the country found a new lane as a dramatic actor. “I had a moment where I saw something that I had never seen before, and it kind of knocked me on my ass,” says Brewer. “It’s in episode two where Kevin Hart’s character is in grave danger, and he has to make a plea for his life. I’m sitting there at my monitor, and I watch Kevin make this tearful plea. That was one of the most real things I’ve ever seen an actor do. I remember just sitting there in awe thinking, ‘How could someone as successful as Kevin Hart actually have a whole other store of talent inside of him that we’ve yet to see? How can it be that he could drop everything that he is as the funniest man on the planet and actually be a dramatic actor?’ You make an assumption about a person, that maybe they don’t have this particular arrow in their quiver, and then suddenly they hit a bull’s-eye. I was stunned. Everyone was stunned. Terrence came up to me and he goes, ‘That cat’s the real deal.’”

Making the Music

Fight Night is set in 1970, a high point in the history of soul, funk, and R&B music. For Scott Bomar, producer and musician behind such acts as The Bo-Keys, that’s his wheelhouse. Bomar and Brewer have worked together on five movie and TV projects, beginning with Hustle & Flow in 2005. “I feel like I got spoiled working with him early on because he’s so musical,” Bomar says. “I find that the way Craig shoots, the way he directs his actors, the way he edits, it’s got a rhythm to it. I’ve worked with him enough now to kind of know what his rhythm is.” 

Bomar says he was in “summer home repair mode” when Brewer called him out of the blue. “He said, I’m working on this TV show. Theoretically, if you had this gig, would you be able to do it? Are you available? And I’m like, sure, yeah. I can do it. I knew it was a pretty quick turnaround, but I had no idea exactly how quick of a turnaround it was. I think there were people involved who had their doubts on whether or not it was possible to do what we did in the amount of time we did it.” 

Mixing engineer Jake Ferguson and composer Scott Bomar lent their talents to the series. (Photo: Chris McCoy)

Bomar and Brewer recorded the score to Fight Night at Sam Phillips Recording in Memphis. They had one week to take each episode from concept to final mix. “I can’t say enough about my collaboration with Scott Bomar,” says Brewer. “It’s something that truly is a collaboration. I see the scene, and Scott and I start just kind of grooving to a beat, to a track that has yet to be written. We start with rhythm. It really is kind of a Memphis way of doing it.” 

Bomar enlisted several of his stable of veteran Memphis players, including drummer Willie Hall, who played on Isaac Hayes’ “Theme From Shaft.” Joe Restivo played guitar; Mark Franklin, Kirk Smothers, and Art Edmaiston contributed horn parts, along with Kameron Whalum, Gary Topper, and Yella P. Behind the board were veteran producer Kevin Houston and Jake Ferguson, who recently returned to Memphis after collaborating with superstar producer Mark Ronson. Most recently, Ferguson worked on the soundtrack to Barbie. “I feel like Craig came in and basically taught a master class on TV scoring,” Ferguson says. 

“It’s quite a bit different than film because the schedule’s so accelerated,” says Bomar. 

A 1970s vintage mini Moog synthesizer Bomar found in a closet at Sam Phillips Recording played a major role in creating the series’ soundscapes. In some cases, Bomar says they didn’t have time to assemble a full band, so he would have to play almost all of the instruments himself. “I’d say that this is the closest thing to a solo record I’ve ever made,” he laughs. 

“It was fascinating to hear Scott and Craig talk about Atlanta in the ’70s and all the inspirations they had,” says Ferguson. “Musically, it was so cool to see how we can take, quote, unquote, ‘modern instruments’ and make them feel like you’re back in the ’70s. When we finished the first two episodes, it was just incredible to see how much the scenes would come to life with the music we added.” 

“When we had the first mix, one of the producers said, ‘We asked Scott to do the impossible, and he’s done it,’” says Bomar. “That’s one of the best compliments I’ve ever gotten.” 

Final Fight

The first three episodes of Fight Night: The Million Dollar Heist premiered on Peacock Thursday, September 5th. New episodes will drop every Thursday for the next five weeks. The night before it hit streaming, there was a star-studded premiere at Lincoln Center in New York City. I interviewed Brewer the next morning, as he was beginning preparations for his next project, a film he wrote called Song Sung Blue starring Hugh Jackman. The director was still reeling from the reception to Fight Night. “When you’re dealing with a brand like Will Packer and Kevin Hart, that means it’s gonna be a party. You can’t just do wine and cheese and a floral arrangement. There were dancers dressed in some of the outfits from the show. There was a Cadillac in the middle of the dance floor. It’s just a party and everybody was there! My son [Graham], I had to pull his ass off the dance floor last night at like 1 a.m., saying, ‘I gotta work, son! Let’s go!’ But he was out there, doing the wobble with everybody else. … It was such a great thing to see it with a crowd. Yeah, I think we got a great show here.” 

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Film/TV TV Features

Ken Burns Takes On Muhammad Ali

A documentary is always judged first by its subject. People will love a slapdash doc about a subject they’re interested in more than a skillfully put together documentary about a boring or obscure subject. Judging from the sheer number of documentaries made about him in the last 50 years or so, no one is more interesting than Muhammad Ali. 

I’m not a sports fan, but one of my all time favorite documentaries is When We Were Kings, the 1996 Best Documentary Oscar winner about the 1974 fight between Ali and George Foreman in Kinshasa, in what is now the Democratic Republic of Congo. But that’s the tip of the Ali iceberg. Just last year, documenter Antoine Fuqua dropped What’s My Name? Muhammad Ali

Now, Ken Burns, a contender to the title of The Greatest when it comes to documentaries (television, anyway) takes his swing with a four-part, eight-hour PBS miniseries called simply Muhammad Ali. It is predictably Burnsian, with all of the strengths that implies, but fewer of the weaknesses. 

Burns’ strengths are access, thoroughness, and clarity. The man literally has his own nonprofit foundation dedicated solely to financing his docs, so money to license archival footage is not an issue. After burnishing his reputation for decades as the filmmaker of record for American history, no one is going to say no to talking to him on camera. And Burns’ completely transparent filmmaking, a descendant of the high BBC style seen in epic documents like The World at War, only looks easy because it’s designed to be digestible. It is in fact extraordinarily difficult to pull off, but time and again, Burns does it with low-key panache. 

His signature move of isolating details on still photos and then slowly pulling out to reveal the entire image is deployed to great effect — the key is to find the most interesting face in the picture, and start there. Nine times out of 10, that’s Ali. Inspired by wrester Gorgeous George, he bragged about how beautiful he was, and he was right. Young Ali was startlingly good looking, in better shape than just about anyone on the planet, and dripping with charisma. During his gold medal-winning stint at the 1960 Olympics, a journalist described him as “the Mayor of Olympic Village.” 

Coverage just doesn’t get more thorough than devoting eight hours of prime time television to your subject. Ali was one of the most photographed and filmed people in history, so there’s plenty of material to work with. One of Burns’ best decisions is to let the fights play out much longer than a two-hour doc would allow. From the first time he fought as a teenager, Ali said he would become the greatest boxer of all time, and the proof is in this fight footage. Especially during the second episode, (also entitled “What’s My Name?”) Ali looks superhuman in the ring. Burns sets up the easy cynicism of the boxing press and announcers, only to knock it down when he lets you hear the awe slip into their voices while they watch Ali methodically take apart opponents who were supposed to beat him. 

The length allows Burns to avoid pure hagiography by diving deep into subjects like Ali’s involvement with the Nation of Islam. In what was the most shocking moment of the entire doc for me, personally, Ali praises segregationist governor George Wallace, and says he thinks Black people and white people shouldn’t mix. Burns presents the moment in an extended clip, so there’s no doubt that the director wasn’t taking his subject out of context. Ali meant what he said at that moment, but Burns also shows Ali’s moral evolution and growth as the barely educated Louisville kid sees more of the world and his understanding deepens. 

His rhetorical style of trash talking would go on to inspire everyone from Michael Jordan to Donald Trump — which means he was also responsible for bringing a lot of negativity into the world, as people without his smarts and talent tried to emulate him. Trolls today wish they had Ali’s insight into what will get a rise out of his opponents. 

Burns’ weakness is that he’s long-winded to the point of being boring. But here he is saved by his endlessly fascinating subject. Ali was many things, but he was never boring. And that makes Muhammad Ali essential viewing. 

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Film Features Film/TV

The Greatest: Four Legends Gather in One Night in Miami

One of my all-time favorite plays is Copenhagen by Michael Frayn. The 1998 Tony Award winner tries to untangle the mysteries of a night in 1941 when German physicist Werner Heisenberg visited his mentor Niels Bohr at his home in the Danish capital. Bohr and Heisenberg had worked together to deduce the rules of quantum physics (known as the “Copenhagen model”), but now Heisenberg had a new boss, Adolf Hitler, who wanted an atomic bomb.

After a dinner prepared by Bohr’s wife, Margarethe, Bohr and Heisenberg went for a walk in the garden. But instead of wandering for hours, as they often did while working on difficult problems, they quickly returned to the house. Heisenberg thanked Margarethe and showed himself out.

Sam Cooke, Cassius Clay, Malcolm X, and Jim Brown walk into a hotel — (l-r) Leslie Odom Jr., Eli Goree, Kingsley Ben-Adir, and Aldis Hodge star in Regina King’s One Night in Miami.

Soon after, the Bohrs fled Nazi-occupied Denmark in the middle of the night. They made their way to America, where Niels Bohr worked on the Manhattan Project. Meanwhile, Heisenberg became the head of the Nazi bomb project, which never even came close to producing a working weapon. Neither man ever revealed what they talked about that night. Did Heisenberg try to recruit Bohr for the Nazi bomb project? Was he there to ask his old mentor to check his math? Or did he carry a warning to Bohr? The three people present went to their graves keeping the secret. Frayn’s play explores the possibilities, with the ghosts of the three people present reliving all the different interpretations of the events.

Kemp Powers’ 2013 play, One Night in Miami, tries something similar. On February 25, 1964, Cassius Clay beat Sonny Liston to claim the heavyweight boxing title. In the crowd that night were Malcolm X, Sam Cooke, and Jim Brown. After the fight, instead of hitting the legendary Miami party circuit, the soon-to-be Muhammad Ali retreated to Malcolm X’s hotel room, where they were later joined by Cooke and Brown. It was an unprecedented gathering of Black talent, and the weightiness of the evening was not apparent at the time. No one knows what they really talked about, but Powers’ script imagines an evening that is equal parts celebratory and foreboding.

Actress Regina King chose to adapt One Night in Miami for her directorial debut after winning the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress for 2018’s If Beale Street Could Talk. King’s first task was casting four of the most recognizable people in 20th-century history. It’s hard to say who had the hardest job. Kingsley Ben-Adir, who recently played Barack Obama in The Comey Rule, portrays Malcolm X — which means he’s in the shadow of Denzel Washington’s astounding performance in Spike Lee’s biopic. Ballers‘ Eli Goree is Ali, a role that even the likes of Will Smith couldn’t pull off convincingly. Aldis Hodge, MC Ren from Straight Outta Compton, plays Jim Brown, a man considered by some to be the greatest player in NFL history and who went on to a 50-year career in film and television. As Sam Cooke, Leslie Odom Jr. at least has the advantage of a great singing voice, since he originated the role of Aaron Burr in Hamilton on Broadway.

Crafting these performances to perfection is clearly where King’s head is at — and rightly so. All four of her leads turn out to be stellar. Goree’s Ali is, improbably, the best of the bunch. He can both deliver the legendary bombast and reveal a thoughtful vulnerability in private. Ben-Adir’s Malcolm X is on the receiving end of most of that vulnerability. In Powers’ script, Malcolm X is the most morally ambivalent character, who intends to use the publicity surrounding his friend’s historic championship to launch his schism with the Nation of Islam. But it is Malcolm who convinces Sam Cooke to stop devoting his talent to sappy love songs and push socially conscious works like “A Change is Gonna Come.”

One Night in Miami lacks Copenhagen‘s experimental streak, but it functions beautifully as a four-handed character sketch of some of the most important Black men of the 20th century. (It’s undoubtedly more entertaining — when I saw Copenhagen performed live, half the audience left during intermission.) King’s cameras pace restlessly around the room, finding framing that keeps all four actors in view, as they would appear onstage. This is a film that carefully doles out close-ups, and more directors should heed King’s example. The film loses momentum when the group breaks up, and each character gets a little exposition designed to educate the audience on their historical importance. But when the four legends are together in the same room, One Night in Miami crackles with the fire of life.

One Night in Miami

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From My Seat Sports

2016: Good for One Thing

It will be easy to say goodbye to 2016. From the political (Brexit) to the unspeakable (mass murder in Orlando), it has been a year in which our differences — our divisions — have been displayed in dramatic, all too often violent conflicts around the globe. Bloodshed continues in Iraq and Syria, North Korea seems ready to burst with its maniacal leadership (and nuclear weaponry), and here stateside, we Americans elected a president half the population considers unfit to run a reputable business, let alone lead the free world. Perhaps most threatening of all, 2016 is the year fake news — Oxymoron of the Century — became a thing. Trust has become the most valuable human commodity this side of love.

But the year in sports. My goodness, the year we’ve had in sports.

Had the Cleveland Cavaliers merely won their first NBA championship, 2016 would have had a star on the timeline of American sports history. But what is waiting 46 years for an NBA crown when the Chicago Cubs had to wait 108 years to reach the top of the baseball mountain? Had either of these teams erased a 3-1 deficit in their best-of-seven championship series, the event would have further cemented this year as significant. Both did.

The Cavs and Cubs somehow made footnotes of sports moments that otherwise would be leading annual reviews like this one. Villanova beat North Carolina for college basketball’s national championship on a buzzer-beating three-pointer, the kind of shot taken — and usually missed — on thousands of playgrounds and driveways . . . but in real life, with the cameras on and millions watching?

The Rio Olympics gave us Usain Bolt (again) and Michael Phelps (again). But the Games also introduced the world to Simone Biles and Katie Ledecky, proving (again) that on the sports world’s biggest stage, gender is merely a classification of greatness. In a world of more-apparent divisions, we could use an annual dose of Olympic togetherness. Deep breaths, everyone, as we await the 2018 Winter Games in South Korea.

No city has needed the distraction of sports more than Memphis. More Memphis lives have been taken violently this year than in any other year on record. We’re left to hope we’ve reached rock bottom in the bloody statistical category of homicide. And we turn to men in helmets and shorts to help us through.

This was the year Memphis became home to the highest paid player in the NBA. (Read that sentence again for emphasis, and know it’s quite temporary.) And when Mike Conley went down with broken bones in his back, the Memphis Grizzlies reeled off six straight wins — the sixth over mighty Golden State at FedExForum — to redefine the term “backbreaker” for good.

This was the year both flagship programs at the University of Memphis welcomed new coaches (a transition year unlike any since 1986). Mike Norvell has kept the pedal down for the football program, his team averaging a shade under 40 points per game despite Paxton Lynch now wearing a Denver Broncos uniform. And Tubby Smith has brought an almost regal feel to the Tiger basketball program, his lengthy record of success a welcome salve to a fan-base grown frustrated by, yes, divisions in the program.

We shed some tears as sports fans in 2016. Said goodbye to Muhammad Ali, then Gordie Howe, then Arnold Palmer. (Had but one of these legends died, the year would merit a black arm band.) The losses seemed to parallel those in the world of music: David Bowie, Prince, Leonard Cohen. It’s as though the year thirsted on pain.

Sunnier days are surely ahead. The Tiger football team will play its bowl game next week in Boca Raton, for crying out loud. Come December 31st, I’ll raise a drink to the year just passed, as I always do. But it will be a hard one. And I’ll chase it with an extra dose of firewater. I’ll then thank the heavens for, at the very least, giving us games to play.

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From My Seat Sports

2016: A Year of “Endings” in Sport

It may be only July, but I can’t recall a calendar year with as many significant losses (measured a few ways) in the world of sports. In one month alone — a span of 26 days in June, to be precise — the world lost Muhammad Ali, Gordie Howe, and Pat Summitt, each the face of his or her sport for multiple generations, transformative figures whose impact somehow exceeded their achievements in the arena of competition. Come December, these three will lead reviews of “those we lost” and not just in sports media.

Tim Duncan

But there are two other endings in sports, both traumatic in their own way to athletes and their fans. One is retirement, often called “the first death” for a person accustomed to the cheering of thousands as part of a workday. The second is the departure of a longtime franchise icon for another city and uniform, the shedding of one fan base — accompanied by emotional outbursts from one extreme to another — for a new band of loyalists ready to, as Jerry Seinfeld would have hit, cheer “the laundry” that much more.

Come November, five certifiable NBA superstars — each with at least one MVP trophy, either for the regular season or NBA Finals — will not be wearing the uniforms we grew to see as an extra layer of skin over the last decade.

• Laker legend Kobe Bryant retired in April, having completed the first 20-year career spent entirely with a single franchise in NBA history.

• Five years after earning MVP honors at the age of 22 with his hometown Chicago Bulls, Derrick Rose was traded to the New York Knicks, the NBA’s island for misfit toys.

• After 13 years and three NBA titles with the Miami Heat, Dwyane Wade signed a two-year deal to essentially replace Rose as the face of the franchise in Chicago.

• In the biggest free agent exodus since LeBron James departed Cleveland for Miami, Kevin Durant waved goodbye to Oklahoma City — his professional home for eight years — and joined the Splash Brothers in Golden State, forming the greatest shooting trio in NBA history. How many shots Steph Curry and Klay Thompson are prepared to give up for Durant will be a swing factor in the latest super-team’s championship aspirations.

• Finally — and this felt most final among the NBA endings — Tim Duncan announced his retirement after 19 seasons and five championships with the San Antonio Spurs. No player in basketball history is more the perpetual Face of the Franchise than Duncan. The Celtics had Russell and Bird, the Lakers West, Kareem, Magic, and Kobe. Even Michael Jordan spent two seasons in a Washington Wizards uniform. A century from now, Tim Duncan’s will be the name NBA fans identify with the Spurs. His absence next season will be glaring, even if San Antonio wins a sixth title.

The Boston Red Sox will soon be searching for a new designated hitter, David Ortiz having announced his retirement after already accomplishing the unthinkable by winning three World Series in a Bosox jersey. At last week’s All-Star Game, the American League dugout emptied for players to hug Ortiz individually as he was removed for a pinch runner. Baseball gets endings better than most sports, perhaps because the institution has been around so very long, and seen so many departures.

Shortly after the All-Star Game rosters were announced, I tweeted my view that the game would be diminished without St. Louis Cardinals catcher Yadier Molina in uniform. (Molina had been named to the team the previous seven years.) A few of my followers — Cardinal fans, most of them — liked the sentiment. One expressed dismay, though, pointing out Molina’s pedestrian numbers (.259 batting average, two home runs). He didn’t deserve to be an All-Star.

That critic was right, of course, as we measure sports season to season. There are (at least) three National League catchers with better numbers this season than the eight-time Gold Glove winner behind the plate in St. Louis. There are shinier stars with more popular “brands” than the 34-year-old backbone of two world championship teams, Molina’s best days likely behind him.

But that wasn’t the point I aimed to make. Molina is to the Cardinals as Ortiz has been to the Red Sox, as Wade was to the Heat and (to some degree) what Duncan was to the Spurs. Furthermore, like Bryant, Duncan, and Durant, Molina has enriched his sport by his level of play over an extended period of time. But that time is approaching its end. And it’s an ending I, for one, will not greet with enthusiasm.

All good things must come to an end? 2016 may already have its epitaph.