The crowd in the line-up was astonishingly diverse.
There were Black youths in baggy T-shirts and jeans, baseball caps on their heads, gathered in small groups as they excitedly discussed Iverson's crossover from the night before;
There were Wall Street elites in suits and ties, checking their watches while refreshing Sports News on their phones, with a hint of fervor on their faces that seemed out of place with their status;
There were even quite a few girls who had come in groups. What they discussed wasn't basketball, but Iverson's defiant gaze and his declaration at the postgame press conference.
"My God..." Martin muttered. "These people... are all here to buy 'The Answer'?"
His assistant, a sharp-looking young Black man named Jesse, came over and handed him a freshly printed sales forecast report. His excitement was impossible to hide. "Manager, you'd better take a look at this. Last night, every last pair of The Answer II in our online store sold out within three hours after the game ended! Every pair! Now, the eyes of the entire United States are on our physical stores. I'm guessing today is going to be a war."
Martin took the report. Seeing the outrageous figure on it made the coffee cup in his hand tremble slightly.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.
"Jesse, activate Plan A. Cancel all employee leave, double the security staff, set up barriers at the entrance, and let people in by batches. Pull every pair of The Answer II out of the warehouse—all sizes, all colorways, put them all on the shelves! Remember, the main display area is The Answer Wall we designed for Iverson. Turn the lights up to maximum brightness, loop last night's game highlights in the background, especially that part of his