"Pat, your apprentice is something else!"
Madison Square Garden, New York City.
The Knicks had just called a timeout, and head coach Jeff Van Gundy let out a long sigh. "He's giving us all kinds of problems," he admitted, glancing toward the Lakers' bench. "I didn't expect Mo to be this dominant."
Patrick Ewing could only chuckle. "Now you know why Dikembe and Alonzo can't stop him either."
Midway through the second quarter, Alex Mo had already racked up 26 points, 12 rebounds, and 5 blocks, a double-double before halftime. At the pace he was going, a triple-double with blocks felt inevitable.
The Lakers, riding his dominance, were up 44–34 against the Knicks. This wasn't just any team, this was the top seed in the East, the squad that had beaten the Chicago Bulls when the Iron Triangle was sidelined. In the eyes of many, the Eastern Conference was stronger than the West this year, and New York was its crown jewel.
But tonight, the Knicks looked out of breath.
The impact of Alex Mo's return was clear.
"If you ask me," said Charles Oakley, leaning forward, "that kid's too arrogant. We need to rough him up."
Oakley's idea was simple: increase the physicality, get under Mo's skin, and bait him into fouls. Limit his aggression, and his dominance would drop.
Ewing frowned. "He's my junior. I'm not letting this turn dirty. Play hard, but don't cross the line."
Oakley had built a career as the Knicks' enforcer, and Ewing had appreciated it , in New York, you needed muscle to keep opponents honest. But tonight was different. This was the Georgetown family. Ewing wanted a fair fight, even if it meant losing.
"Fine, fine," Oakley muttered, not sounding convinced.
Timeout over, the teams returned to the court.
The Knicks struck first; Ewing muscled past Campbell, slammed it home with one arm, drew the foul, and roared to the crowd. Madison Square Garden erupted.
But as Ewing stepped to the line, Oakley made his move. While fighting for rebounding position, he gave Alex Mo a sneaky shove to the lower back, a dirty move that could send a player tumbling if they jumped. Mo had read the free throw's trajectory and didn't leap, avoiding injury, but he took note.
The whistle blew, not for a foul, but to resume play. Mo turned to run upcourt… and "accidentally" caught Oakley with a sharp elbow to the face.
BANG.
Oakley's vision went black. He crumpled to the hardwood, unable to stand.
The Garden fell silent for a split second before erupting in confusion.
From the crowd's angle, it looked like Mo had simply turned too quickly after the free throw, something he did often to start a fast break. Oakley had been too close, and the collision was "unfortunate."
The referees huddled, reviewed Mo's past game footage, and ruled it unintentional contact. In the '90s NBA, physical collisions like this were part of the game, call it intentional, and half the league's stars would be sitting. Mo received only a verbal warning.
Jeff Van Gundy didn't argue. He'd seen Oakley's shove and knew Mo's response was, by the era's standards, fair game. The only surprise was Oakley dropping from a single shot.
With Oakley out, the Knicks turned to Larry Johnson to guard Mo. It didn't matter; neither he nor Ewing could contain the "Celestial Giant." By the end of the third quarter, Mo had 40 points, 20 rebounds, and 10 blocks, sealing the win before the fourth even began.
Final stat line: 44 points, 22 rebounds, 11 blocks.Final score: Lakers by 13.
At the postgame presser, Ewing was gracious in defeat.
"It's a joy to see young stars surpassing us," he said. "Alex Mo is the pride of Georgetown. I hope he goes further and flies higher."
Mo knew the truth: this season was Ewing's last great run before injuries took their toll. The NBA didn't wait for anyone. There would always be another 18-year-old coming in, hungry and ready.
The Next Day—Rucker Park, Harlem
Mo had asked the Lakers' coach for a one-day break. He wasn't about to waste it.
He walked into the legendary asphalt court of Rucker Park, where streetball legends had carved their names and countless pros had tested their skills. This wasn't his first time; last summer, he'd played here alongside Kobe Bryant, Stephon Marbury, and a young Lamar Odom.
Today was special. Nike was promoting a new white-and-purple colorway of the TM1s, and they'd gathered top high school and college talent for an exhibition run with Mo. Among them were familiar faces, Vince Carter and his cousin, a young, lanky Tracy McGrady.
"Mo! Long time no see!" Carter greeted him with a grin. "If it weren't for your shoe brand, I wouldn't have flown out here."
Mo laughed. "Then I guess I owe you one for showing up."
McGrady, quiet but curious, hung just behind Carter, watching.
The plan was simple, Mo would put on a dunk exhibition, sign some autographs, and maybe run a few games. At least, that's what he'd been told. But judging by the glint in Carter's eyes and the way McGrady's competitive spark was starting to show… this might not be just a friendly showcase.