It’s mystical, the Shammgod dribble. In one moment the ballhandler is moving with comforting familiarity, crossing over like millions have before. In another, the ball has seemingly teleported, as if controlled through supernatural ability, but instead with the utmost precision dictated from the player in control. Now you see it, now you don’t. It’s a moment that jolts anyone watching to attention. The 100th time you see it is no less thrilling than the first. It’s named after God Shammgod, the legendary Brooklyn dribbler whose cultural impact on the sport reaches far beyond this single trick of the basketball. He’s long been credited with both its creation and popularization. The second, undisputedly, is true. But what if you were told of a debate between two East Coast cities about the dribble’s birth? What if you learned another hooper shares a claim to the move’s history, one whose role in its genesis has rarely been talked about over the decades?