Chris Mullin didn't join the team for the next two away games.
As the Warriors' general manager, he had more pressing matters to attend to.
In his office, flipping a coin in his hand, Mullin studied the Warriors' roster, reflecting on Zack's performance since joining the team. Though it still felt surreal and almost unbelievable, Mullin knew better than anyone that Zack was leading this Warriors squad—against all odds—out of a quagmire that fans had long thought inescapable.
But at the same time, Zack had handed Mullin a dilemma.
At the start of the regular season, Mullin had been ready to trade some of the Warriors' veterans to bring in fresh blood.
Especially after hearing about the events at the preseason training camp.
Having fought his way through the NBA in the '80s and '90s, Mullin admired Zack's unique initiation into the team, his ability to quickly bond with teammates. But he also knew that if certain players repeatedly failed to recognize their place on this Warriors roster, he had no qualms about showing them, in his own way, exactly who represented the team's future.
"He's here in Oakland to perform a savior's work. If Michael Jordan had been a nice guy back in the day, how could he have tamed someone like Dennis Rodman?" Mullin had said, addressing team owner Chris Cohan's concerns about Zack's integration with the team.
The Warriors had been bad for too long.
So bad that since Cohan bought the team in 1995 for $190 million, he'd never even seen a single playoff game at home.
From the moment they drafted Zack, Mullin had no intention of rebuilding the Warriors through patient waiting.
The Warriors desperately needed a turnaround.
And Zack needed to prove, through his performance, that he was the Messiah who could sound the drum of liberation and save the franchise.
But as the Warriors' form improved and team chemistry grew, Mullin realized that the players he'd once considered trade bait now warranted a second look.
Take Troy Murphy and Mike Dunleavy, for instance.
Or Jason Richardson.
As one of the few big men in the league with three-point range, Murphy had his flaws. But when paired with Zack, he brought critical tactical flexibility to the Warriors.
Murphy was like a gearbox, enabling Zack to play center and further accelerate the team's pace.
Their high pick-and-pop plays exposed opposing centers who lacked rim protection, allowing Zack to exploit mismatches and punish defenses.
Compared to versatile power forwards who could play both the three and four, Murphy's size and screen-setting quality gave him an edge.
Even on defense, he'd found a way to compensate for his lack of lateral quickness—by leaning on Zack's defensive range and willingly taking fouls to protect him.
If Mullin traded Murphy rashly, he couldn't be sure the incoming players would embrace their roles as willingly as Murphy did.
In the NBA, not every player fits every team.
Right now, Murphy was fully bought into Zack's leadership.
The same went for Dunleavy and Richardson.
Dunleavy's off-ball movement, always found by Zack's passes, and his career-high three-point shooting had made him the Warriors' super sixth man.
Richardson's explosive athleticism and growing chemistry with Zack had him regularly posting the team's second-highest points in recent games.
This was the state of the Golden State Warriors.
Though some still refused to admit it, they had a solid starting lineup and a couple of standout bench players.
But for Mullin, it wasn't enough.
Zack had awakened the ambition and hunger of this city.
"What's Andris [Biedrins] been up to lately?" Mullin asked, turning to his assistant in the office.
"You won't believe this, Chris, but he's been Messiah's sparring partner. In practice, Andris is the only one who can keep up with him defensively."
Biedrins, the Warriors' first-round pick (11th overall) from Latvia last summer, stood 6'11" like Zack, with solid mobility and an impressive wingspan.
Historically, his good looks would make him a fan favorite among Warriors supporters.
"Has his shooting or other skills improved since last year?" Mullin pressed.
"No. He's quick and agile off the ball, but when he's got it, his coordination and fluidity are nowhere near Messiah's level."
Ball-handling coordination and fluidity—a trait often overlooked in basketball.
It's intuitive when you watch players like Kobe or Iverson, whose smoothness stands out compared to others. But it's nearly impossible to develop through training alone.
Historically, Biedrins was a highly mobile big man when he didn't have the ball. He'd block shots from Duncan, hold his own against Nowitzki, and even step out to guard perimeter players when needed.
But give him the ball, and he'd look awkward—especially when shooting.
In Zack's memory, Biedrins leveraged his mobility under Don Nelson's system to land a six-year, $64 million contract.
And then… nothing.
He coasted, retired at 27, and became a footnote, remembered only in Stephen Curry's jersey collection.
"Are you thinking of using Andris as trade bait?" the assistant asked. "No offense, Chris, but despite his flaws, he's a huge Messiah fan. He's only 19—a lottery ticket yet to be cashed. His trade value might be limited."
"Our Messiah's given me quite the puzzle," Mullin said with a chuckle, realizing no one on the roster seemed like an obvious trade candidate.
"But, Chris, should we seriously consider replacing the head coach?"
Mullin nodded, then shook his head. "Mike Montgomery's coaching ability isn't enough for this Warriors team, but now's not the time to make a change. A new coach needs a full offseason to instill their system. A midseason switch could backfire, and we don't know what kind of results we'd get."
After a pause, he added, "Book me a flight to Indianapolis."
"Going to brag to Larry again?"
"No, I'm going to have a heart-to-heart. I hear he's got a player who's unhappy with his team. And, as an old friend, I'd like to share some of my recent joy," Mullin said with a grin.
"Trust me, Chris, one day Larry's gonna shoot you in the street."
Mullin shrugged. "I don't care."
…
To satisfy the Bay Area's growing ambitions, Chris Mullin flew to Indianapolis with his usual charm.
Meanwhile, at Quicken Loans Arena—or as some called it, LeBron James Center—Zack and his teammates began their pregame warm-ups against the Cavaliers.
Having been thoroughly dominated by Zack in practice, Biedrins, who'd spent most of the season on the bench, took on the role of fetching balls and serving as Zack's practice dummy during warm-ups.
Biedrins' recent off-court efforts caught the attention of Brown, who grew wary.
Especially when he saw the two long-legged, good-looking guys "dancing" on the court together.
"Damn pretty boy," Brown muttered.
As a marquee matchup, the Warriors-Cavaliers game was nationally televised, hyped by the media as a clash between "The Messiah" and "The Chosen One."
The Cavaliers were performing well this season, sitting at 6-3 and fourth in the East.
Zack wasn't surprised. Historically, under Mike Brown's coaching, this Cavaliers team would finish with 50 wins and make the Eastern Conference playoffs.
LeBron's core supporting cast from his first stint was already in place.
Before the game, the Warriors' coaching staff, led by Montgomery, outlined two strategies: one focused on neutralizing LeBron, the other on shutting down his teammates.
While basketball tactics can be complex, strategies are simpler.
In Zack's memory, most teams facing LeBron in the future adopted these same approaches.
LeBron's playing style meant that once his stamina waned, he couldn't rely on silky jumpers or unguardable fadeaways like the previous GOAT.
So, teams either let him pad his stats while securing the win or gambled that his teammates couldn't beat them.
The Warriors' collective decision was clear.
"Andris, get ready. You're getting minutes tonight," Montgomery told Biedrins, who'd been training with Zack.
Biedrins' speed made him a better fit for this game than Foyle, who was stronger in the low post.
As last year's high draft pick, Biedrins' talent couldn't be ignored, even if the team had limited his minutes to maintain competitiveness and satisfy fans.
After all, aside from Zack and Brown, Biedrins was the Warriors' most athletic and physically gifted big man.
"That Latvian kid can handle a game like this?" Brown asked Zack, sensing a challenge.
"Isn't he an NBA player?" Zack shot back.
At Wake Forest, Zack had learned a lot from Chris Paul, including one key lesson: never give up on any teammate.
Teams could bolster their rosters through trades, but without good assets, how do you even get to the negotiating table?
It was Zack's suggestion that put Biedrins on the coaching staff's radar.
Excited, Biedrins approached Zack. "When I get out there, what do you need me to do?"
Zack grinned. "Watch my position, then do what you do best to stop their offense."
On the court, after the opening ceremony, the jumbotron displayed the starting lineups.
Warriors: Brown, Zack, Pietrus, Richardson, Davis.
Cavaliers: Zydrunas Ilgauskas, Drew Gooden, LeBron James, Larry Hughes, Eric Snow.
On TNT, Kenny Smith commented, "The Cavaliers are one of the league's best defensive teams. Their wing defenders can lock down perimeter shooting, and with Big Z and Gooden in the paint, they're not afraid of teams with strong interiors. But the real surprise is the Warriors. They've got the makings of a strong starting lineup."
Charles Barkley, quick to tamp down any hype, interjected, "Come on, Kenny. You weren't saying that before you kissed my butt. Are the Warriors a strong team? Take Zack out of that lineup, and tell me if you still think so."
Barkley had a point.
Without Zack, the Warriors would revert to last season's mediocrity.
Historically, the "We Believe" Warriors succeeded because Mullin brought in Stephen Jackson and Al Harrington, and Don Nelson's frenetic system maximized their strengths.
In this timeline, the Warriors' cohesion relied heavily on Zack's two-way dominance.
Barkley continued, "The Warriors have a serious Messiah dependency. Honestly, I'm worried about whether they'll have enough gas in the tank for the second half of the season."
He was spot-on.
Despite two years of college basketball improving Zack's stamina, he still showed signs of fatigue in the second half of games.
As Shaq often said, "Bigs have their own struggles."
Aside from Nowitzki, who focused more on offense, two-way bigs like Duncan and Garnett rarely posted gaudy scoring numbers.
Beyond the challenge of receiving the ball in clutch moments, stamina was a natural limiter for bigs anchoring the defense.
"The Warriors' offense and defense revolve around Messiah," Barkley said. "Check the advanced stats, Kenny. When he's off the court, you'll see what kind of team they really are."
On the court, after Barkley's reality check, the game began.
Brown lost the tip-off to the crafty Big Z, who faked a jump and nudged him with an elbow, throwing off his timing.
Snow brought the ball up for Cleveland.
To preserve Zack's energy, Montgomery started with a zone defense.
As an academic coach, Montgomery wasn't clueless, but his offensive schemes didn't translate as well to the NBA, where players couldn't be forced to adapt like in college.
At the top of the key, LeBron, facing his "brother" Zack, was hyped. Knowing the importance of the matchup, he called for the ball on the left wing for an iso.
Historically, this season LeBron averaged 31.4 points, his career-high for a regular season, thanks to both his improvement and the NBA's strict enforcement of the no-hand-check rule, which benefited perimeter players.
In Zack's memory, LeBron attacked the rim over eight times per game, with a third of his shots coming inside.
Pre-bulked-up LeBron had explosive burst, making him a nightmare in the paint once he got going.
Pietrus, a solid one-on-one defender, struggled against LeBron's quick first step. At 6'5", he was at a natural disadvantage.
This season, only Kobe, LeBron, and Iverson averaged over 30 points, so Pietrus failing to stop LeBron wasn't a knock on his defense.
No one expects a $1.91 million player to shut down a superstar every night.
The real key to containing LeBron was the Warriors' interior rotation.
In the paint, Zack and Brown were quick to double-team.
Both former No. 1 picks with elite athleticism, Zack had also talked Brown out of a misguided bulking-up plan.
"Why bulk up? To deal with Shaq or Yao?" Zack had asked.
"With me here, will I let you face them alone?"
"If I don't bulk up, where should I focus this season?"
"Watch Ben Wallace's defensive tape. Study his help defense and improve your awareness."
Zack knew Brown's career had derailed after bulking up, losing his quickness without gaining low-post skills.
On the court, trapped by Zack and Brown's defense, LeBron passed out.
That summer, he'd worked on a pull-up jumper from long-two range, hitting 39.8% of them.
But in Zack's eyes, even early-career LeBron, with an inconsistent three, would've been better off shooting more "cold arrows" than long twos.
LeBron passed because Zack and Brown's timing was perfect, cutting off even his interior passing lanes.
He wasn't as smooth as Carmelo with his pull-up, so he swung the ball to Hughes on the wing.
The Warriors' zone showed its teeth.
Hughes hesitated, missing the chance to pass, and by the time he looked up, the Warriors had reset.
Hughes, unwilling to take the shot, passed back to LeBron.
To the uninitiated, it might've looked like loyalty. But as CCTV's Zhang Weiping groaned, "Why didn't Hughes shoot? LeBron doesn't have time to break the zone now."
With no time to dismantle the defense, LeBron dished to the wing, where Zack snagged the board.
He quickly pushed the ball upcourt.
Hughes, forced to foul, patted his chest in apology to LeBron.
On the Warriors' possession, Zack didn't force it against Gooden's zone.
He called for a handoff with Davis, then slid to the right to set a screen for Richardson.
Through two quick screens, Richardson's drive drew the defense, and Zhang Weiping shouted, "Zack's open!"
Richardson, with his modest 2.7 career assists per game, knew exactly where Zack was. Breaking and dishing wasn't some elite skill.
Zack, catching the pass on the wing, had time to light a cigarette before shooting.
Swish!
The Cavaliers' turn. LeBron, learning from his mistake, let Hughes control the ball.
He waited until teammates' movement pulled Zack and Brown to the opposite side before calling for it.
This "avoid the strong, attack the weak" approach was LeBron's specialty, a lesson learned from Jordan's battles with the Bad Boys.
Jordan, after years of punishment, mastered finding one-on-one angles.
LeBron got his chance, driving and hitting a floater.
Pietrus, frustrated, got a pat from Zack. "You did great. LeBron can't keep that up—he'll burn out."
Sure enough, by mid-first quarter, LeBron's early burst—eight points from drives and free throws—left him gassed, rendering him invisible for the rest of the period.
This wasn't the "Prime Draymond" LeBron yet. His assists came mostly from drive-and-kicks or drawing help. When his energy dipped, he relied on long twos and occasional threes.
By the end of the first, Zack, despite being targeted by LeBron, had 10 points, 7 rebounds, 3 assists, and a block.
His only regret? LeBron, ever cautious, passed whenever Zack helped, denying him a highlight-reel moment.
Early in the second, the Warriors swapped Biedrins for Zack's frontcourt partner.
Murphy wasn't suited for this increasingly tense game.
With more scoring options, the Warriors could grind it out in the halfcourt, flipping their usual run-and-gun style into an advantage.
On Cleveland's bench, seeing Dunleavy check in, LeBron briefly considered staying in.
But Mike Brown, not yet enlightened, stuck to the plan, resting LeBron for five minutes.
When LeBron returned, Brown was puzzled: the Warriors weren't resting Zack.
He doubted Zack's stamina could hold up.
But on TNT, Barkley noticed, "Zack's looking fresher than usual tonight."
Dunleavy explained to Brown, "With fewer possessions than normal, Messiah's not as drained."
Brown nodded. "So that's why we're using Andris—to slow the pace, play halfcourt, and pair Messiah with another mobile big."
Dunleavy agreed. "Watch. This is gonna be a classic where Messiah dominates both ends."
Brown sighed, "If only we had a wing who could lock down superstar guards."
Dunleavy, raised around basketball with his dad, had sharper vision and IQ than most. He knew Mullin's moves since drafting Zack signaled trades were coming.
But would he still be a Warrior when they happened?
Dunleavy, wistful, muttered, "That's the NBA, Mike."
On the court, LeBron, seeing Biedrins guarding his side, blew past Pietrus.
As expected, the young Latvian lost his position.
LeBron, perfectly positioned in midair, sent the ball toward the rim.
But then, after waiting a quarter and a half, Zack appeared above him.
Smack!
Messiah pinned The Chosen One's layup to the glass.
Jack, securing the loose ball, waited for Zack to streak down the middle.
That pause gave Zack a golden fastbreak opportunity.
LeBron chased, but when he saw the height of Jack's pass—well over 12 feet—his eyes widened.
Only the Warriors' Messiah could reach it.
On TNT, as Zack caught the pass and slammed it home like a cannonball, Barkley roared, "Messiah has descended on Cleveland! That, my friends, is The Dunk!"
From "The Shot" that broke Cleveland's hearts years ago to The Dunk that stunned them now, no one knew what curse God had placed on this city.
Without LeBron's desperate chase and simultaneous leap as a backdrop, would Zack's meteoric alley-oop have been as iconic?
Unlike some fictional hoops protagonist who relied on dunks to mask early-career weaknesses, Zack's alley-oop was pure, unadulterated talent.
At 12.5 feet in the air, he caught Jack's pass and obliterated the rim.
With The Chosen One as his foil, Zack delivered a dunk that would be celebrated for decades.
The Warriors' bench went wild, Davis and others waving towels.
Biedrins, a diehard Zack fan, sprinted from the court and jumped on his back.
"That's the greatest alley-oop I've ever seen!" he shouted.
Brown, held back by Dunleavy and Murphy, was fuming and frantic.
At LeBron James Center, Mike Brown called a timeout.
Cleveland needed a breather, but the pause let fans savor The Dunk.
If LeBron's first two seasons showcased his unparalleled athleticism, Zack, flying even higher, shattered worldviews.
Atlanta fans flooded the internet: "Screw David Stern! Messiah was supposed to save us! The NBA stole Atlanta's savior!"
Warriors fans fired back: "The NBA's fair and just! We love David Stern!"
Milwaukee and Utah? Nobody cared about the former, now stripped of its "White Duncan" in Bogut.
As for Utah, Jerry Sloan, watching Chris Paul gel with his team, thought, "A talent like Zack doesn't belong to us."
An hour and a half later, news broke: the Warriors defeated the Cavaliers 108-96 on the road.
More than Zack's 34 points, 19 rebounds, 6 assists, 3 blocks, and a steal, everyone was talking about The Dunk.
LeBron, 9-for-24 with 27 points, 5 rebounds, 6 assists, and 2 steals, never imagined losing this showdown to his friend.
It wasn't the script he'd envisioned.
Postgame, fans wanted LeBron's thoughts on the dunk. Some hoped he'd talk trash, vowing revenge.
Cleveland's cursed luck made ESPN's endless replays of The Dunk feel like salt in the wound.
"Stop rubbing it in! Haven't we suffered enough?" fans raged.
They wanted their Chosen One to fire back.
But as Zack's friend, LeBron stayed classy.
"That was a hell of a dunk. Gotta tip my hat to Zack," he told the media. "I chased as hard as I could. But don't focus on the dunk—look at our battle. We gave the fans a great show."
In the Warriors' locker room, Brown was stunned by LeBron's response. "If you did that to Jordan, he'd trash-talk you into next week and torture you next game."
Zack laughed. "LeBron's not Michael. We don't need to force that mindset on everyone."
"What do you think of The Dunk?" Brown asked.
"It added two points to my stat line," Zack said matter-of-factly.
As Zack headed to the shower, Brown muttered, "Michael was right. You're Larry Bird with a supercharged body."
That night, the world was still digesting the Warriors-Cavs clash and The Dunk.
But in Indianapolis, Chris Mullin was quietly planning a revolution for the Warriors.
"Your Messiah doesn't feel like a new-gen NBA player," Larry Bird said.
"How so?"
"Back in our day, we played with grudges, ready to kill on the court. Haven't you noticed? Today's young players are all about being friends."
"You think the NBA's too friendly now?"
"Not exactly. I'm just worried one day it'll turn into a boring game where only saints can play."
"Larry, you know David won't allow court violence."
"Who said I want violence? I'm a refined guy. I just want the game to stay exciting."
"So?"
"I'll agree to your request for now. But you know Ron Artest is untouchable."
"What's that mean?"
In , Larry's next words to Mullin boiled down to:
"Pay up."