Beating the Rockets on their home floor felt like more than just another regular-season win.
It felt like a statement.
When the team plane landed back in Los Angeles in the early hours of the morning, the scoreboard in everyone's mind still read the same:
Lakers 1st in the West.Lakers 1st in the entire league.
For the first time since the suspension storm, order had been restored.
Morning Headlines
The next day, sunlight spilled through the blinds of Alex Mo's condo in Marina del Rey. The TV was on low in the background, running highlights on a loop. On the coffee table, a half-finished bowl of cereal was slowly turning soggy, forgotten.
Alex was leaning back on his couch, barefoot, Lakers shorts and a white T-shirt, flipping through channels with the remote.
Every sports station had the same graphic up:
"1997 NBA All-Star Voting – Final Results Announced"
"Here we go," Alex muttered to himself.
Right on cue, the host's voice boomed:
"And now, the biggest news of the day: the final All-Star voting totals are in, and history has been made.The league's overall leading vote-getter… with 3.12 million votes…Los Angeles Lakers center, Alex Mo."
The number sat on the screen like something unreal.
3,120,000.
Not just the first player in NBA history to crack two million All-Star votes.
He had blown past three million.
The previous record Grant Hill's 1.35 million from last season looked like a typo in comparison.
Alex scratched his cheek and huffed a laugh. "Guess that's… not bad."
His phone started buzzing on the coffee table.
First came a message from Allen Iverson.
AI:3.12 MILLION!?Yo, you sure you're not president or something?
Alex snorted and typed back:
Alex:Relax. You're an All-Star starter too. Worry about your jumper.
Immediately:
AI:My jumper is pure, bro. The vote count knows what's up.
A Global Vote
On TV, the analyst continued:
"People expected a jump in fan engagement with the league expanding its international broadcasts, but no one expected this.Sure, Alex has an enormous base in Los Angeles and back home overseas, but the league confirms the majority of his votes are coming from all over the world Europe, South America, Canada, everywhere.He's not just a local star. He's become a global face of the NBA."
Highlights flashed: Alex dunking over Shaq, swatting Jordan, spinning into a fadeaway over Ewing, draining a deep three over Kemp.
He watched for a moment, then grabbed his cereal, took a spoonful, made a face, and set it back down.
"Cold," he grumbled. "Figures."
The All-Star Starters
A few minutes later, the broadcast switched to the full All-Star lineups.
"Let's start with the Western Conference starters in Cleveland this year:
Guard: Gary Payton (Seattle SuperSonics)
Guard: Allen Iverson (Los Angeles Lakers)
Forward: Charles Barkley (Houston Rockets)
Forward: Shawn Kemp (Seattle SuperSonics)
Center: Alex Mo (Los Angeles Lakers)"
Alex couldn't help but smile when Iverson's name appeared on the screen right next to his.
From lottery picks to All-Star starters in the same backcourt that was fast.
Then the East.
"And now, the Eastern Conference starters:
Guard: Penny Hardaway (Orlando Magic)
Guard: Michael Jordan (Chicago Bulls)
Forward: Grant Hill (Detroit Pistons)
Forward: Scottie Pippen (Chicago Bulls)
Center: Patrick Ewing (New York Knicks)"
Two All-Star teams, stacked top to bottom and every matchup felt like pay-per-view.
Jordan vs Alex.Payton vs Iverson.Hill vs Barkley.Ewing vs his Georgetown "kid" all over again.
Alex let the names sink in. This time, he wouldn't just be watching these guys during All-Star weekend. He'd be sharing the court as a starter and doing overtime in nearly every event.
Rookie Challenge Lineups
The host kept rolling.
"Also announced today: the full lineups for the Rookie Challenge.This year's format: East rookies vs West rookies."
On the screen, the East rookies appeared first:
Stephon Marbury
Kobe Bryant
Shareef Abdur-Rahim
Kerry Kittles
Marcus Camby
Then the West rookies:
Steve Nash
Allen Iverson
Ray Allen
Antoine Walker
Alex Mo
Alex raised his eyebrows when Nash's name popped up.
"Already snuck onto the Rookie Game, huh?" he murmured. "Good for you, man."
He remembered Nash as the quiet, wide-eyed kid who'd shown up to summer runs and never backed down from anyone.
Now he had Iverson next to him, Ray Allen spacing the floor, and Walker stretching the defense and Alex anchoring all of it.
The commentators were hyped:
"We've got Marbury vs Iverson that rivalry goes back to New York playgrounds.We've got Kobe, Camby, Shareef.And on the other side: Alex Mo vs Marcus Camby again, but this time on an even bigger stage.This Rookie Game might be just as exciting as the main event."
Alex's phone buzzed again.
This time: Vince Carter.
Carter:Rookie Game, dunk contest, three-point, main event… you sure you don't wanna ref one of the games, too?
Alex laughed out loud.
Alex:If they let me ref, I'm calling every foul on you next time we run at Rucker.
Three-Point Contest & Dunk Contest
The TV host shifted to the Saturday night events.
"This year's All-Star Saturday only features two individual competitions: the Three-Point Shootout and the Slam Dunk Contest.
The Three-Point Contest has been underwhelming the last few years… but that may change with one big addition:
Alex Mo a 7-footer will be participating."
They listed other shooters established snipers and specialist guards but every camera shot, every graphic, kept cutting back to Alex.
A 6'11″–7'0″ center strolling racks of three-point balls? The image alone sold the contest.
"He'll be the tallest three-point contest participant in history," the analyst added. "And with his shooting numbers this season, he's not just there for a gimmick. He might actually win."
Then came the dunk contest list, and the tone shifted from amused to electric.
"Now, the 1997 Slam Dunk Contest a field full of young legs:
Kobe Bryant – Boston Celtics rookie
Michael Finley – Phoenix Suns
Ray Allen – Minnesota Timberwolves
Darvin Ham – undrafted '96, now carving his path
Bob Sura – Cleveland Cavaliers
Alex Mo – Los Angeles Lakers"
The host continued:
"Six contestants.First round: each player attempts three dunks, scored by the judges, with the top three advancing.Finals: two dunks each, high score wins.
After that Rucker Park footage of Alex the 360 windmill and the free-throw-line windmill people are already calling this a must-watch."
Alex muted the TV for a moment and stood up to stretch, feeling his joints pop.
Three straight days of action: Rookie Game. Three-Point Shootout. Dunk Contest. All-Star Game.
Everybody else would be on vacation.
He'd be punching a full weekend shift.
"Guess I really am working overtime," he muttered.
Franchise Legends & the 50 Greatest
Later that afternoon, on his way to the practice facility, the radio filled in the rest:
"Don't forget — this All-Star Weekend in Cleveland is also the NBA's 50th anniversary celebration.
The league will honor the 50 Greatest Players ever named earlier this season. Expect legends from every era — Russell, Wilt, Magic, Bird, Kareem, Oscar, West…
And right in the middle of it, a kid named Alex Mo is going to be playing three straight days under their gaze."
Alex listened silently as those names rolled by. Magic. Kareem. West. The ghosts and gods of Lakers history.
He parked, sat in his car for an extra ten seconds, and exhaled slowly.
He wasn't one of them.
Not yet.
But for the first time, he'd be in the same room on the same weekend being treated like someone who might someday belong in that conversation.
That thought stayed with him as he headed inside.
One More Win Before the Break
On February 4th, the Lakers had one last game before the All-Star break a "road" game that wasn't really a road game at all.
They faced the Los Angeles Clippers, technically the visiting team in their own city.
The building was half full of gold and purple, half bored or depressed Clippers fans. It never really felt like the Lakers were away.
Alex played controlled, efficient basketball a few dunks, a couple of threes, sharp passing. Iverson sliced through the Clippers' defense like usual. Horry hit timely shots. The vets did their jobs.
They won by double digits without breaking too much of a sweat.
Back in the tunnel, the mood was light. Guys joked about All-Star plans, vacation spots, and who was going to spend the most money over the break.
Iverson bounced up next to Alex, towel draped over his head.
"Cleveland. Then Miami," AI said. "That's my plan."
"You just wanna wear sunglasses indoors again," Alex replied.
"You're just jealous I pull it off," Iverson said, grinning. "Hey, don't forget three-point contest. Don't brick and embarrass me, bro. We share a locker room."
Alex rolled his eyes. "You're the one shooting 25% from three, not me."
They laughed, heading toward the locker room.
"Alex," a staffer called. "Coach Harris wants you after you're done. Jerry West is in the building."
That made him pause.
West usually didn't call players upstairs unless it was something important.
In the GM's Office
While Alex showered and changed, Del Harris took the elevator up to the executive floor.
Jerry West "the Logo" was already seated in his office, a TV cart wheeled up beside his desk, tape ready.
"Dell," West said, pushing his glasses up. "Got something I want you to see."
He hit play.
On the screen, grainy European-league footage flickered to life. The gym wasn't big. The crowd wasn't glamorous. But one thing was crystal clear:
A lanky wing defender wearing a foreign club jersey was everywhere.
He hounded ball-handlers full-court. He bumped cutters off their routes. He fought through screens like they were suggestions, not obstacles. On several possessions, he forced bad passes or panicked dribbles that turned into turnovers.
There were chase-down strips. Sneaky digs. Perfect help rotations. Even a few possession-saving blocks.
One sequence showed him pressing an opposing guard baseline, forcing him into a spin, then slapping the ball clean from the side and turning it into a fast-break layup the other way.
Del Harris leaned forward. "Who is this?"
"Bruce Bowen," Jerry West replied. "Our scout Brian brought this tape back from Europe."
Harris watched another few possessions. The guy's offense was nothing special spot-up threes, occasional cuts. But his defense was relentless.
"This is the wing defender we've been asking for," Del said slowly. "Strong, disciplined, physical… and he actually wants to guard people."
West nodded. "And this is the player Alex recommended."
Harris blinked. "Alex did?"
"Bruce Bowen played one game for Miami earlier this season. Didn't see the floor much. Got waived. No one picked him up, so he went to Europe," West said. "Alex brought up his name. Said he remembered him and thought he'd be a perfect defensive wing for us if we could find him."
Del Harris sat back, impressed.
First Ben Wallace. Then pushing for Robert Horry. Now Bowen.
For a rookie, Alex didn't just understand talent he understood fit.
"How quickly can we get him?" Harris asked.
"I already told Brian to move." West tapped a folder on his desk. "We've offered him a four-year contract at the league minimum. For a guy who was just cut and exiled to Europe, that's security he's never had."
Bowen's Perspective
Meanwhile, somewhere in a small European apartment, Bruce Bowen stared at a faxed contract on a wobbly kitchen table.
He'd just come back from practice, legs sore, jersey still on, when his agent called him:
"You might want to sit down for this. The Los Angeles Lakers want to sign you. Four years. Guaranteed."
At first, Bowen thought it was a prank.
Then the documents came through.
He read every line twice, then again, eyes burning.
He hadn't forgotten the feeling of being waived by Miami after barely seeing the floor. He hadn't forgotten the humiliation of realizing no NBA team wanted him.
He also hadn't forgotten who he'd been following from afar.
Even in Europe, he watched NBA highlights whenever he could find them. Whoever had taped games off a satellite feed and resold them, Bruce was buying.
And every time, the same figure jumped off the screen:
A towering forward wearing purple and gold, flying into dunks, blocking everything in sight, and famously now standing alone against an entire Bulls team in that now-legendary brawl.
Alex Mo.
Bowen had liked him even before the fight. After that? He admired him.
Not just for the toughness, but for the way Alex backed it up with skill. He represented something Bruce never had and desperately wanted: belonging.
When he heard that Alex himself had suggested his name to Lakers management, Bowen's chest tightened.
He didn't even read the salary numbers a fourth time.
He grabbed a pen and signed.
The Small Headline That Meant Everything
Back in Los Angeles, the next morning, Alex sat in a small café not far from his place, a hood pulled over his head, a cap on top, doing his best to blend in.
It didn't work that well a group of teenagers at the next table kept stealing glances but nobody interrupted him.
He sipped his coffee and opened the Los Angeles Times sports section.
Most of the page was eaten up by his own face and the headline about 3.12 million votes and the All-Star starting lineups.
He almost skipped past it.
What he was looking for was the smaller print.
And there it was, in a little two-paragraph column near the bottom:
"Lakers Waive Fringe Forward, Sign Defensive Wing Bruce Bowen to Four-Year Deal"
Alex smiled and touched his chin.
"So you made it," he murmured.
He thought back to the conversation with Del and West weeks ago. To the blurry memory of Bowen chasing him around in that one Heat game, never letting up for even the few possessions they shared the floor.
Guys like that didn't make headlines.
But they helped you win series.
"Welcome to L.A., Bruce," Alex said under his breath. "Let's see how much trouble we can make together."
He folded the paper, finished his coffee, and headed out into the bright California morning.
All-Star Weekend was coming. The league was about to celebrate its 50 greatest players.
And in the middle of all that history, the Lakers had quietly added one more piece to their future.