Tyler Dorsey opened his eyes slowly to find himself in a completely unfamiliar location. He sat up in confusion, trying to remember what he had been doing before he had mysteriously turned up in this place. After a few seconds of groggy thought that didn’t go anywhere, he gave up and, instead, observed his surroundings. To his sides, grand stone walls extended to the sky, where they faded into the shimmering clouds above. In front and behind him, a perfectly smooth marble floor extended infinitely into the distance. Periodically, there were cathedral-like windows in the walls. Nearby, a fountain was pleasantly splashing.
He got to his feet, and, in doing so, noticed that he was wearing a white robe held shut by a strand of thick gold rope. Whatever he had been doing before this inexplicable experience, he hadn’t been wearing a white robe. The whole place, combined with his unexpected outfit, exuded heavenly feelings. Like he had ascended to a higher, more peaceful plane of existence. Despite the strangeness of the situation, he felt at ease here, and set out in one of the two directions offered to him.
After a few minutes walking in silent contemplation, Tyler saw a humanlike figure in the distance. Startled to see another person in this grand empyrean hall, he waved. The faraway person waved back, then beckoned Tyler to come closer. Eager to perhaps have some of his questions answered as to the nature of the place he was now in, he walked over at a brisk pace.
The man was wearing a similar white robe to Tyler’s, and his face looked vaguely familiar, but Tyler couldn’t place him. “Who are you?” he asked.
“Carlos Delfino,” the man replied. “I think I know what your next question is going to be. Everybody asks the same ones when they meet me.”
This response was slightly too cryptic for Tyler to get any information out of, so he instead asked directly, “Where am I?”
Carlos laughed. “The Hall of the Thirty-Point scorers. A place of tranquil peace for those NBA players who have shown exceptional scoring skill.”
This explanation jogged Tyler’s memory of what he had been doing prior to being transported to the Hall. He had scord 29 points against the Magic. “But I didn’t score thirty,” he replied.
Frowning, Carlos withdrew a scroll from an inner pocket of his robe. “That’s strange, perhaps you scored thirty sometime before tonight?” he asked while he donned a pair of glasses and started reading down the list of names on the parchment. “What’s your name, again?”
“Tyler Dorsey,” Tyler answered, feeling concerned. Despite having been in the Hall for only a few minutes, he had grown to cherish its purity and calmness. The diffuse sunlight above him was made almost silver by the clouds, and it warmed him gently without being oppressive.
“Dorsey…Dorsey…Dorsey,” Carlos mumbled while perusing his scroll. “I don’t see a Dorsey here. There must have been a mistake.”
Tyler’s heart sank. “Can’t I just stay?”
Carlos rolled the scroll back up and looked coldly at Tyler. Tyler thought the unfriendly gaze was unnecessary, given that he had never volunteer to be taken here.
“No,” Carlos said with finality. “You’ve already been here too long. The Elders are going to revoke my status as official greeter of the Hall. Hand over your robe.” He held out his hand to receive the improperly-granted garment back from the interloper.
Seeing no way to argue against this, given that he plainly didn’t qualify for entry into the Hall of the Thirty Point Scorers, Tyler reluctantly slipped off his robe and handed it to Carlos. The warm sunlight felt good on his body, but he still covered it up from embarrassment. “I’ll be back one day,” he said defiantly.
“And I’ll be here when you do,” Carlos said. “If I don’t get fired that is. Now get out.”
Tyler wanted to say more, but full darkness abruptly overtook his vision. The marble floor he had been standing on disappeared from beneath his feet. Through the dark void he fell, and at some point, he lost awareness of what was happening.
—
Tyler opened his eyes for a second time. This time, his surroundings were more familiar: the locker room. He looked around. If any of his teammates had noticed his departure, they weren’t acting like it. Shrugging, he started to take off his shoes. If only he had made one more free throw…