NBA: Built to Dominate

Wilt Chamberlain hadn't been to a Lakers home game in a long time.

So long, in fact, that even Jerry West couldn't remember the last time.

"Wilt, are you sure about this?"

West, also known as The Logo, leaned against his desk, phone pressed to his ear.

"You really want me to reserve a courtside seat for you?"

On the other end of the call, Wilt Chamberlain was in peak form—a beautiful woman on each arm.

As for how he was holding the phone?

Use your imagination.

"Jerry, you know me—I don't joke about these things."

West sighed.

"Fine. I'll make sure you get the best seat."

But then, West paused, raising an eyebrow.

Through the phone, he could hear… sounds.

Strange sounds.

Oh god.

West immediately hung up before he heard something he couldn't unhear.

The man was still as wild as ever.

Somewhere in the world, there was probably only one person still living like an 18-year-old at his age—

Wilt Chamberlain.

West wasn't going to compete with that.

He sent a quick message to the Lakers' operations team:

Reserve the best seat in Staples Center for Wilt Chamberlain.

Chamberlain Comes to See Alex Mo

The next morning, at Lakers practice, Iverson jogged over to Alex Mo.

"Yo, Mo, guess who's coming to watch our game?"

Mo, mid-stretch, barely glanced at him.

"Who?"

"I'll give you a hint—he scored 100 points in a game."

Alex froze.

"Wait. Wilt's coming?"

Iverson nodded excitedly.

"Yup! Wilt Chamberlain himself!"

"And not just that—he's coming just to watch YOU!"

Iverson wasn't the type to idolize legends, but even he had to admit—

Wilt was different.

The man had records that would never be broken.

Averaging 50 points per game for an entire season?

Averaging 48.5 minutes per game in a season?

100 points in a single game?!

Even with Mo's monster debut, Chamberlain still sat at the top of history, laughing at everyone from above.

And now, the living legend himself was coming to watch Alex Mo.

Iverson was hyped.

But Mo?

He barely reacted.

"Oh," he said flatly. "I care more about who we're playing next."

Iverson blinked.

"That's it?! That's all you've got to say?!"

But Mo Mo was serious.

Chamberlain watching the game wouldn't change anything.

What actually mattered was who they were facing next.

Georgetown Civil War, Round 2

"Oh, right," Iverson muttered, checking the schedule.

"This is actually kind of funny, Mo. Our next game? It's against one of our seniors from Georgetown."

Mo raised an eyebrow.

"Patrick Ewing?"

"Nope."

"Alonzo Mourning?"

Iverson shook his head again.

"Then who?"

Iverson smirked.

"Dikembe Mutombo."

Mutombo: No Mercy for the Youngsters

On November 3rd, before tip-off, Dikembe Mutombo sat in the Hawks' locker room, speaking to reporters.

"I don't show mercy to young players," Mutombo said with a deep chuckle.

"I like Mo a lot, but I want to win my first game of the season."

He liked his Georgetown juniors, but on the court?

No free passes.

Then, a reporter brought up an interesting topic.

"Dikembe, before the draft, a lot of people compared Alex Mo to you."

"Do you see the similarities?"

Before the draft, every prospect was given a player template—a comparison to an NBA veteran.

Mo's official template?

Low-end projection: Dikembe Mutombo.

High-end projection: Wilt Chamberlain.

But Mutombo immediately shut it down.

"I don't think we're alike at all," he said.

"He's much more dominant offensively than I am."

"I'm much better defensively than he is."

Mutombo wasn't sure how the NBA came up with these templates.

But the upper limit they gave to Mo?

Wilt Chamberlain?

That was insane.

No one just casually reached Wilt's level.

Chamberlain Arrives at Staples

When Wilt Chamberlain entered Staples Center, the entire crowd erupted.

He hadn't attended a Lakers game in years—

And yet, here he was, dressed sharp as ever, waving to the roaring crowd.

Next to him, Jerry West chuckled.

"Didn't expect you to actually show up."

Chamberlain smirked.

"Well, where's Mo?"

West gestured toward the court.

"Warming up over there."

Chamberlain nodded, then stood up again.

"I want to talk to him."

West's eyes widened.

"Hold on—what are you planning to say to him?"

Chamberlain grinned.

"Relax, Jerry. It's nothing I can teach."

West sighed.

He already knew what Chamberlain meant.

Some things?

You're either born with it, or you're not.

Alex & Wilt Speak

As Chamberlain approached the Lakers' side of the court, fans watched in awe.

This was history meeting the future.

The two spoke briefly.

Then, Chamberlain returned to his seat—completely satisfied.

West immediately turned to him.

"So?" he asked.

"What did you tell him?"

Chamberlain grinned.

"Guess."

West rolled his eyes.

This man was impossible.

Iverson's Curiosity

Back on the court, Iverson was dying to know.

"Mo! What did Wilt say to you?!"

Mo simply shrugged.

"It's a secret."

Iverson frowned.

"What kind of secret?"

Mo paused dramatically.

"Let's just say… I understand it now."

Iverson froze.

Then, his eyes widened.

"Wait—you mean… he taught you the secrets of picking up women?!"

Mo walked away without answering.

"HEY! Don't hog all the knowledge, man!" Iverson shouted, chasing after him.

A New Player Template? No—A New Standard.

Just before the game started, a reporter asked Mo a final question.

"Mo, before the draft, the NBA compared you to Mutombo and Chamberlain."

"Who do you think you resemble more?"

 Mo didn't even hesitate.

"Neither."

The reporter blinked.

"So… which NBA player do you think you play like?"

Mo Mo smirked.

"To be honest?"

"There's no one like me."

A stronger Antetokounmpo. A more athletic Durant.

Find another player like that.

He walked off the stage.

If the world wanted a new player template—

They were about to get one.

A brand new name:

Alex Mo.