As he perches his near 7ft frame on a bench press at the paint-peeled Filathiltikos basketball club, fate seems to smirk at Giannis Antetokounmpo.
When he was a teenager on this Athens court, he would have to wait for his brother, Thanasis, to sub out and give him the one pair of trainers they shared before he could enter the play. Now the floor is swarming with local kids in box-fresh, top-of-the-range basketball shoes with his name on them.
In the city beyond, he used to work as a wandering street vendor, flogging knock-off bags and sunglasses. He is still out there now, only in the form of billboards bearing his beaming face for various global and domestic brands.
For his first 18 years, Antetokounmpo never left the country, but was never Greek. Now, after six years based in the United States, he returns as perhaps the most famous Greek alive, a multi-millionaire and the best basketball player in the world.
"It is insane," the 24-year-old says.
"Where we were then and where we are now, is an unbelievable journey. It is beyond my imagination."
Antetokounmpo was born in Athens in December 1994, the second son of Veronica and Charles, who had left Lagos in Nigeria in search of a better life.
They found the peace they wanted but only in stateless, paperless limbo. Despite being born in Greece, neither Giannis, his older brother Thanasis, nor younger siblings Kostas and Alexis were able to claim Greek citizenship. As illegal immigrants, Charles and Veronica certainly couldn't.
Greek government policy gave them no right to stay, but the family had no desire to leave. Instead, the six of them spent their nights crammed into a two-bedroom flat in Sepolia, a humdrum neighbourhood in the north of Athens, and their days finding what work they could without papers.
Charles did odd-jobs, while Veronica babysat or accompanied Thanasis and Giannis as they tried to turn passers-by into buyers of cheap eyewear and accessories.
"We sold many different things - watches, handbags, sunglasses, key rings, CDs, DVDs. Whatever we could put our hands on," Giannis recalls.
"I was amazing at it. My brothers will tell you. Selling stuff and hustling - I was definitely one of the best, because I loved doing it and I loved spending time with my mum.
"That background as a kid is where my work ethic is coming from. I saw my parents every single day working hard to provide for us, it was unbelievable and has stuck to me my whole life.
"I don't do it because I want to get fame, because I want to get money, that is just how I am built and how I am and all that comes from my parents and how they hustled."
In what little leisure time he had, Giannis' dreams were not of hoops, but goals.
His father Charles had been a keen footballer, but as his hopes of making it professionally and changing the families' fortunes faded, he passed the torch to his sons.
Olympiakos was Giannis' team. He idolised their Brazilian forward Giovanni and Arsenal striker Thierry Henry. His and Thanasis' playground commentaries featured them in the Champions League final rather than the NBA play-offs.
That changed on a chance encounter.
Spiros Velliniatis, a basketball talent scout and coach, had identified the untapped potential in Athens' migrant communities. As he wandered through Sepolia one day he spotted a 12-year-old Giannis and his brothers.
"In Sepolia there are two courts next to each other. On the other, they were playing basketball, but Giannis and his brothers were just chasing each other," Velliniatis says.
"It's not only that I saw a person with supreme perception and change of direction, there was also a passion for victory. If you have your eyes open you can see talent in a person without a soccer ball at their feet or a basketball in their hands."
At this point in life, while his future NBA peers had already amassed thousands of hours of experience and skill, Giannis was starting from near scratch, learning to dribble and make a simple lay-up.
Velliniatis fought on two fronts to unlock Giannis' latent potential. He had to convince the Antetokounmpo family that pursuing basketball was worthwhile, while persuading a team that Giannis was a project worth risking.
"It was a double-pronged game," he says.
"With kids from Africa, often the family doesn't respect basketball. Soccer or athletics are the only options for a career that makes money.
"On the other hand, the big clubs in Greece know the cultural difficulties that can come from bringing in kids from these marginalised communities.
"They think two or three African kids can start making a team within a team. They know that social problems in their neighbourhoods, the need for kids to work, mean they might not be there for practice.
"It is not necessarily a problem of their racism, but of how society is."
Filathiltikos - in the third tier of Greek basketball and desperate for young talent, regardless of background - offered to find steady work for Charles and Veronica if Giannis and Thanasis committed to regular training sessions.
And the brothers were committed. Some nights they would sleep on foam mats at the gym, too exhausted to get back to the Sepolia flat they were rapidly outgrowing.
Their fraternal rivalry drove them both to improve. They watched YouTube highlights reels of NBA greats in internet cafes. Allen Iverson, the Philadelphia point guard, was a particular favourite for Giannis, inspiring him to braid his hair in cornrows and to practise extravagant crossover dribbles.
At 17, Giannis and his brothers were still helping shore up the precarious family finances by charming and cajoling sales of cheap fashion out of strangers. But there was a moment when Giannis realised an alternative might be materialising.