I grew up in New York, surrounded by the rhythm of basketball culture—late-night CRT screens, stats dissected like sonnets. When I heard I was going to Utah, it wasn’t just a draft pick; it was a cosmic alignment of destiny and data. This isn’t about fame—it’s about the quiet fury of potential, the poetry in the numbers. I see it now: a young mind in a hoodie, watching shadows stretch across a global map. This is basketball as universal language.