January 13, 1997Los Angeles, California
The morning sun filtered through the windows of a quiet mansion tucked into the Hollywood Hills. The hardwood floors gleamed. A basketball rested next to the couch, and the soft hum of ESPN echoed from a flat-screen TV.
Alex Mo sat cross-legged on the floor, a protein shake in one hand and a remote in the other, wearing gray Nike sweats and a hoodie that read "Built for This."
His phone buzzed for the fiftieth time that hour.
[Nike HQ – URGENT: IM1 Sales Update]
He ignored it, staring at the TV in disbelief.
"Breaking News," the anchor said, barely hiding his excitement. "In just under one hour, every pair of Alex Mo's IM1 Platinum sneakers—600,000 in total, has officially sold out across the United States. Repeat: Sold Out."
The camera cut to footage from Rodeo Drive, Portland, Chicago, and even Seattle. Crowds gathered outside Nike stores. Some people were fighting. Others were crying. At least two cops were shown breaking up scuffles in front of a barricade.
Back at home, Alex exhaled and muttered, "Damn…"
He hadn't even left his house yet today.
And he had already made $36 million.
12 Hours Earlier—Midnight
The first-round All-Star vote numbers had just been published online.
Alex had been lying in bed when Iverson texted:[AI] BRO CHECK VOTES UR AT 1.5 MIL WTF
He blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Then checked.
1,523,000 votes.The highest first-round total in NBA history.
He hadn't played a game in over two weeks.
He was suspended.
Yet here he was, breaking records that even Jordan, Shaq, and Grant Hill couldn't touch.
His suspension hadn't slowed him down—it had only fueled the myth.
Fans were obsessed with the Christmas Day game. Replays of his reverse slam over Rodman, the spin move past Pippen, and the collision with Jordan were going viral on SportsCenter and across VHS tape trading forums. Kids were dubbing it "The Baptism in Chicago."
It was raw, it was real, and it was what fans wanted to see.
"People don't vote for safe," Alex muttered that night as he stared at the ceiling. "They vote for fire."
The Next Morning—7:12AM
The Nike Platinum IM1s launched.
Originally, it was supposed to be a limited drop—100,000 pairs. But after Christmas Day, the board at Nike went into overdrive. They bumped production to 600,000 pairs and timed the release with the All-Star voting announcement.
The shoe was everywhere.
It was the first signature low-top sneaker for a rookie in NBA history. Platinum-trimmed, padded for ankle mobility, engraved with Alex's initials and number—A.M. #7—and in bold across the heel:
"No Fear."
Nike knew they had something hot. But no one expected what happened next.
By 8:00 AM, every store had lines wrapping around the block. At 8:59 AM, police were stationed outside most of them.
At 9:00 AM sharp, the doors opened.
By 9:51 AM, all 600,000 pairs were gone.
Some were flipped online before they were even picked up—at $240 a pop. Double the retail price.
9:55 AM – Nike Headquarters, Portland
The Nike executive board was in a meeting when a junior analyst burst in with a laptop.
"Sir Phil, you need to see this."
Phil Knight raised a brow.
"They're gone," the analyst said. "Every pair. Gone in 51 minutes."
Murmurs filled the room. One executive swore under his breath.
Knight leaned forward. "How much?"
"$72 million gross before tax."
"And Alex's cut?"
"Fifty percent."
A pause.
Everyone looked at each other.
Phil Knight stood and whispered, "That kid just made thirty-six million dollars while eating breakfast."
Meanwhile—Back in LA
Alex was sipping coffee on his rooftop patio, still watching ESPN, when Allen Iverson showed up.
"Yo!" Iverson called out, hopping off his Ducati. "You got extras?"
Alex smirked. "Didn't you just sign with Reebok?"
"Doesn't mean I can't admire greatness. You got a pair or what?"
Alex nodded toward his SUV. "Trunk."
Iverson popped it open. Inside were a dozen boxes of IM1 Platinums labeled by name each one customized with the player's number.
Iverson found his and whistled. "Bro… PE version? Are you serious?"
"Team gets laced. That's how we roll," Alex said, stretching his arms behind his head.
A few minutes later, the rest of the Lakers trickled into the private gym.
Nick Van Exel. Elden Campbell. Jerome Kersey. Even the new guy, Robert Horry.
Everyone got a box.
Everyone, except for one person.
Coach Del Harris walked in, holding a pair of IM1s that Alex had already placed on his desk.
He raised them up and looked around at his players. "Alright, alright appreciate the gifts, but y'all still got practice. Let's not forget we're playing for something bigger than shoe sales."
He turned to Alex.
"Mo got a minute?"
10:45 AM – Lakers Training Facility, Film Room
Coach Harris closed the door and sat across from Alex, holding a clipboard.
"Let's talk."
Alex nodded, leaning forward.
"We're in position for a deep playoff run, but there's a problem. We don't have a reliable wing stopper."
He clicked a remote. A reel of Jordan highlights started playing.
"We need someone who can stay in front of this. We can't expect to beat the Bulls in June unless we lock down the perimeter."
Alex watched closely. Fadeaways. Drives. Pull-ups. Jordan was Jordan.
"Are you thinking of making a move?" he asked.
"We already traded Cedric. We've got space, but we need the right guy. You got anyone in mind?"
Alex thought for a moment. His mind flashed through all the defensive wings from his past life as a basketball nerd. Names ran through his head like a scouting reel.
"Yeah," he finally said. "I've got someone."
Coach Harris raised a brow.
"Who?"
Alex smiled.
"I'll text you his name. And if we get him… Jordan's going to have to work a hell of a lot harder."
1:30 PM – Back at Home
Alex lounged on the couch, flipping through channels. Every single one was talking about the IM1 drop. CNBC called it the "fastest-selling signature sneaker launch in history." ESPN had dubbed it "The Alex Mo Effect."
Even CNN got in on the story.
On the kitchen island sat a contract proposal for a global rollout in Europe, China, Australia, and even Africa. Phil Knight wanted to move two million more units by April.
Alex looked at the proposal, smiled, and set it aside.
Not bad for a day off.
Not bad at all.