One minute left. The Warriors had the ball, and Curry was toying with the defense—dribbling between his legs, behind his back, like he was performing at a holiday party. The crowd chanted, "Cur-ry! Cur-ry!" but Wembanyama stayed locked in, feet sliding, hands mirroring Curry's moves. "Don't watch the ball," Lin Mo had drilled into him. "Watch the hips. They lie less than the hands."
Curry's hips shifted left. Wembanyama shifted with him. Curry crossed over, right, and Wembanyama slid, cutting off the lane. Frustrated, Curry tried to step back, but his sneaker caught on a strand of tinsel—silver, leftover from halftime's tree spectacle—that had snaked its way onto the court. He stumbled, and the ball popped loose.
Wembanyama pounced. He grabbed it, pivoted, and sprinted the other way, the crowd roaring so loud he could barely hear his own heartbeat. The Warriors' guard chased him, but Wembanyama passed to his teammate, who had an open layup—missed. The ball bounced off the rim, and the Warriors' center grabbed it, sprinting back.
But he stepped on the tinsel too. His sneaker slid out from under him, and he crashed to the floor, the ball rolling free.
Right to Wembanyama.
He didn't hesitate. Drove to the hoop, jumped, and dunked—tying the game with 30 seconds left.
The arena erupted. Fans waved signs: "Merry Dunkmas!" "Tinsel > Warriors!" The Warriors' coach sprinted onto the court, yelling at the ref to check the tinsel, but the ref just waved him off.
In the chaos, Wembanyama caught sight of Lin Mo, who was grinning, his candy cane now a stub. "Old Man Joe used to say, 'Tinsel's not trash,'" Lin Mo mouthed. "'It's a reminder—even the shiny stuff can trip you up.'"
The Warriors called a timeout. Curry stood in the huddle, his jaw tight, while his coach drew up a play on the clipboard. Wembanyama leaned against the wall, catching his breath, and noticed the cracked ornament again. It was still hanging, but the biggest crack now ran straight through the "Champs?"—like the question mark had split open.
He smiled. Maybe broken things did tell better stories.