The year is 2032.
You’ve just parked your flying car, and step on to the Dallas HoverDART (go with me, it’s the future), headed to the game. You arrive downtown, snap a photo in front of Dirk’s one-legged fade statue, and smile. No more tickets, instead you get your eyes scanned and enter the AAC.
As you head to your seat you can’t help but laugh looking up at the newly raised “Three-peat” banner hanging in the rafters. You turn to your son, or daughter, or wife, or boyfriend, or girlfriend, or a stranger next to you and try to recall.