When I was in my freshman year at KU, I was playing basketball at the Robinson Center one afternoon. We had the run of the court because of my teammates' scoring prowess and my extremely dirty play and ability to pull down rebounds in traffic.
Then, a group of tall gentlemen walked in. Among them was Paul Pierce, then a sophomore. I was assigned the task of guarding Pierce. I remember setting up in my stance. I looked to the left to check the guy on the wing. When I turned my head back around, Pierce was gone. I looked behind me, and he was laying the ball in about 10 feet away. Pierce is the quickest person I've ever encountered in my life. He blew past me twice more, and then I faked a calf injury to preserve what little of my pride was left.