I was 28 when my knees gave out for good.
Ten-day guy. Journeyman. One-time G League MVP. I had a six-year overseas stretch, two ACLs, and enough scout team scrapes to fill a highlight reel no one watched. My name was Marcello Wyatt, and nobody remembered it.
But I remembered everything.
Every hesitation read. Every rotation late. Every coach that said I was too small to guard twos and too slow to run ones. I played the game right, but not fast enough. Not loud enough.
Then came the collapse. One bad landing in Istanbul. No cartilage left. The body said no.
And the lights went out.
I woke up in 2003.
Not metaphorically. Not in a dream.
I woke up in a dorm room in Cleveland.
And my hands were smooth. Young. Calluses not even formed yet. My legs—strong. Untouched.
The clock radio blinked.
June 26, 2003.
Draft Day.
The door creaked open. A kid I recognized but couldn't place leaned in. "Marcello, hurry up. They're saying LeBron went number one. We gotta get down to the gym."
I stared at him. At my reflection. At my hands.
Then I heard it for the first time.
SYSTEM ONLINE Player: Marcello Wyatt Era: 2003-04 NBA Season Status: Undrafted Rookie Invitee - Cleveland Cavaliers Skill Tree Initialized
And just like that, I got my second possession.