It is March 2024. You're sitting in front of your laptop, or your phone, or your TV, watching the Oklahoma City Thunder once again, relentlessly, sprint up and down the floor.

Shai Gilgeous-Alexander has just fired off his fifth three in a single game for the 23rd time this season. Moments ago, Chet Holmgren drilled a three on one end then blocked a step-back jumper at the other. Josh Giddey is 4-of-6 on the night from floater range while flirting with a triple-double. Jalen Williams is defending and driving like a supercharged tank made up of other, tiny supercharged tanks.

Then, for what feels like the umpteenth time this season, Ousmane Dieng rotates over from the help side and swallows a shot attempt at the rim whole. Coming down with the ball in hand, he barely returns to solid ground before throwing a pass the full length of the floor to a streaking J-Dub for an easy two.

On the next defensive possession, Dieng is switched onto the perimeter, struggling a little bit with his foot speed, but erasing lines of sight top to bottom, as well as side-to-side, with his length and size and standing reach, all of which have somehow increased since you watched him two nights ago. His man defers in the face of impossibility.

A few nanoseconds later, Dieng teleports into a corner passing lane, snaring the ball, which he hands off to SGA. He jog-sprints up the floor, receives the ball above the break, swings it to J-Dub and instantly cuts toward the basket, catching a quick-fire pass in stride, stopping only to yam it at the rim.

"What the fudge?!?" you scream, internally and externally, except you don't say "fudge," while running both of your hands through your hair in exasperation and envy. "OKC really got Ous, too?!?!?"