GRANADA, Spain – All around Serge Ibaka, the children in the Republic of Congo's capital city of Brazzaville had come clutching belief in the sudden possibilities of a basketball life. Fathers and sons marched to Ibaka on a charitable July journey back to his boyhood home, elders declaring the kids had stored soccer balls and devoted themselves to the pursuit of NBA dreams.

Beneath Ibaka's feet on the old neighborhood court, cardboard inserts once separated the holes in his shoes and the gruff, dirt surface. Now, it had been all replaced with a glistening, modern court. Above Ibaka, bent rims and hollowed-out backboards had been transformed into FIBA-standard goals.

Back to present a transformed court on this summer day, back to play a part in the refurbishing of two regional orphanages, what washed over Ibaka was a sense of how deep his roots remained, how far had he had come, how long the odds.

Ibaka's eyes were growing wide now off the lobby of a hotel lounge several weeks later, his voice rising, his cadence accelerating. For there's no Spanish gold medal in Madrid next week, no NBA championship for Oklahoma City in the States next spring, that could touch him as did a trip as a UNICEF emissary had this summer. He changed basketball in the Congo, and plays a part in shaping its future throughout Africa.

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"That's one of the most amazing things for me," Ibaka told Yahoo Sports. "I feel like that I am some people's … some people's …"

Ibaka speaks five languages, but he is searching for the proper word here. It is escaping him and his eyes dart to Jordi Vila – his longtime publicist – who had been listening to this part of the conversation.

"Inspiración?" Vila says.

"YES! YES!" Ibaka declares. "I am some people's … inspiración!"

Now, Ibaka is rolling. "I tell them all: If can make NBA player, if I play in the NBA, that's means anything is possible. When I was in Congo, basketball in Congo was nowhere like today there. I didn't watch the NBA. I knew two players. Michael Jordan. Magic Johnson. Oh, maybe [Dennis] Rodman, too. Only know a few teams. That's all I know. We did not see basketball. I didn't know there was an NBA draft.

"But in my mind, I was always telling myself, one day, 'I'm going to be in professional basketball.' And I believed it. One day, I will. I believe this every day. I think about this every day. I was going to do whatever I had to do to be there. And it comes true."

The Ibaka story out of the Congo still seems so surreal: His mother dies, his father becomes a political prisoner in the civil war. His 17 brothers and sisters must make way for themselves. Eventually, Ibaka worked his way to Spain as a young basketball prospect, developed a game, earned respect and became one of the best forwards in the world. Africa has had greater players before him, including Hakeem Ojaluwon, but the continent wasn't wired to watch Dikembe Mutombo and him the way that they are Ibaka and Luol Deng now.

"Imagine this day of Twitter and social media and satellite television, the way NBA has gone global, imagine Hakeem Olajuwon and Dikembe at their peaks," Toronto president and general manager Masai Ujiri, a Nigerian, told Yahoo Sports. "If people there could've really seen the Dream winning championships in Houston, as it was happening, Africans would have gone nuts.

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