January 24, 1997 – New York City
"Let's hear it. Who's your recommendation this time?"
Del Harris folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, curious. Every time Alex Mo made a suggestion, it was someone overlooked, someone forgotten, someone... unexpected. Yet somehow, it always worked out.
"His name's Bruce Bowen," Alex said. "Played one game for the Miami Heat this season. Should be balling in the CBA now."
Del let out a short laugh. "Continental league? You've got to be kidding me."
Big Ben. Horry. Now Bruce Bowen?
Del wasn't mad. Just baffled.
Robert Horry had a bad-boy reputation in Phoenix, constantly clashing with coaches. Ben Wallace was undrafted, undersized, raw, and always one tech away from an ejection. Now, Bruce Bowen? A guy cut after just one game?
"You've got a real thing for the league's unwanted, huh?" Del said with a sigh. "What's next, a guy hooping at Venice Beach?"
Alex smiled but didn't argue. He knew what he was doing.
"Look, the guy defends like his life depends on it. That's what we need."
Del wasn't convinced, but he didn't shut it down either. "I'll have the scouts look into it," he muttered.
But even the scouts were puzzled when they heard the name.
"Coach, are you sure that's who he meant?" one of them asked, flipping through a binder. "I don't even have a current profile on this guy."
"Go to the CBA," Del said. "He's there. Find him."
The scout gave a nod—already picturing this "business trip" as an excuse to drink European coffee and take in a few sights. No way this dude ends up in purple and gold… right?
Meanwhile, Lakers without Mo
Alex Mo had been suspended for 15 games following the now-infamous "Chicago Showdown." While he served his time, Allen Iverson stepped into the spotlight.
And learned just how cold that spotlight could be.
"I thought I wanted to be the man," Iverson muttered one night after dropping 39 points and still taking the L. "But this shit is exhausting."
Nine games into Mo's absence, the Lakers had gone 3–6. Despite a heroic 41-point effort from Iverson against Toronto to close the gap, the Lakers' record slipped from a pristine 26–1 to a shaky 30–12.
From the best record in the league... to second place in the West, tied with the Seattle SuperSonics and just behind the surging Houston Rockets.
Back in Chicago, the Bulls were dealing with their own aftermath. Rodman was out indefinitely. Pippen's back was acting up. And Jordan? Jordan wasn't looking like Jordan.
It was as if the fight in Chicago had knocked more than just Rodman into the ICU it had knocked the entire balance of the NBA off its axis.
Elsewhere: Mo's Apartment, Los Angeles
Alex Mo stood at the kitchen island, stirring his post-workout smoothie. Banana, peanut butter, oats, and a scoop of protein. He drank it in silence, glancing at the TV across the room where ESPN analysts debated his return.
"Fifteen games. He's served his time," one anchor said.
"He's still a wild card," said another. "You never know what Alex Mo will do next."
Alex smirked.
He was used to it by now—the doubt, the noise, the labels.
In the corner of the apartment, his suitcase sat open. Game gear packed. The team was flying to New York in the morning.
Just then, his phone buzzed. A message from Iverson:
"Bout time. Let's hoop."
January 24 – Madison Square Garden
New York was buzzing. Not just because of the Knicks game but because Alex Mo was back.
The arena lights glowed brighter tonight. MSG was always a temple of basketball, but when a star returned, especially one as controversial and electrifying as Alex, it felt almost... cinematic.
Nike had capitalized on the moment. They bought the front page of the Los Angeles Times, ran nationwide TV ads, and plastered subway stations with the same four words:
"Heroes Return – IM1."
The new platinum-and-black IM1s would debut tonight on Alex's feet. The colorway was bold, gritty, and sleek-fitting for a showdown in New York.
Pre-Game Tunnel Interview – Knicks Side
"Best player Georgetown ever produced? C'mon now."
Charles Oakley scoffed as he adjusted his shooting sleeve in the player tunnel.
"Alex is good, sure. But Patrick Ewing? That's the real Hoya legend. I'm just here to give the kid a taste of real New York basketball."
Oakley was built like a fridge and twice as mean. Known more for his fists than finesse, he was infamous for sticking up for teammates and throwing hands when needed.
Even Robert Horry gave Alex a heads-up.
"Watch Oakley," Horry said. "He plays like he's still in the '70s."
"Yeah," Kenny Smith chimed in. "That dude tried to put me through a wall once. Play tough, but keep your head on a swivel."
Alex laced up his new sneakers, stretching his calves as he looked around the visitors' locker room.
"I'm not worried," he said calmly. "If he wants to throw punches, I got abs of steel."
The room chuckled, but they knew he meant it. Alex was cut different now, both mentally and physically.
Flashback—Alex's Last Trip to NYC
The first time was Christmas 1995, when he and Iverson became teammates at Lowe Park in a pickup game that started their bond.
The second time was the NCAA championship game, when he led Georgetown to glory.
Now?
Round three.
MSG. The NBA. Prime time.
And Nike wasn't done yet.
They had organized a youth summit the next day at Lowe Park, using the hype to launch the new IM1s. Among the rising stars invited?
Vince Carter. Tracy McGrady.
Alex smiled when he saw the names.
"This weekend just keeps getting better."
Back in the Locker Room—Just Before Tipoff
Alex cracked his knuckles.
The media was buzzing outside. The fans were chanting. He looked over at Iverson, who nodded silently.
The ban was over.
The circus was back in town.
And the main attraction?
Alex Mo is ready to reclaim his throne.