Andrew Wiggins napped on the living-room couch in his Minneapolis condo. The rigors of an NBA season were more than he had expected, and a significant amount of his free time was spent sleeping. He was adventuring deep in the world of dreams when a real-word ringing noise awakened him.
Wiggins turned over and sighed. Did he even want to pick up the phone? Thad and some of the other guys had warned him about a mysterious former-teammate named Alexey who never stopped calling. Blearily, he reached over and looked at his phone. Despite not recognizing the number, he answered.
“Hello, you have reached the Wiggins residence.”
“The Wiggins residence? This is MJ.”
Andrew immediately sprung to attention. “Oh, uh, hey! How’s it going?”
Michael Jordan’s voice was stern. “I have no time for idle chatter. I’ve been watching some of your games, and I’m displeased to see that you are not following my advice. Remember what I told you? Dunk it. Always dunk it.”
The rookie recalled his experience in the Timberwolves’ training room. “That was really you? I thought that was just a hallucination brought on by too much exertion.”
“I don’t know about other experiences you may have had, but, yes, that was really me giving you that advice. Advice which you have apparently not seen fit to heed.”
“Yeah, well, I was thinking about your track record with the Hornets, and I was like ‘Do I really want to take advice from some guy who totally ran his team into the ground and got his dad killed with his gambling debts?’. I mean, your track record aside from the rings and stuff is pretty bad.”
“Don’t talk to me like that!” Snarled Jordan.
Wiggins continued, “And I talked to some of the coaches about it and they kind of agreed with you that dunking is a good thing to do. But they also think that being able to shoot jumpers and stuff would be a better skill to have on a game-to-game basis. The NBA has moved on without you, man, and I trust their advice more than yours right now.”
“You fool! You would be nothing without me! Nothing! I created you! Don’t ever forget that, Andrew!
The call ended. Smirking at his phone, Wiggins returned to his slumber.