It’s the year 2030 and the only hope in the sports world is Mo’ne Davis. After her initial fame pitching in the Little League World Series, Davis fulfilled her dream by going on to play basketball at the University of Connecticut, where she won three championships, and then advancing to the WNBA.
Drafted by the Washington Mystics, as a rookie she brought the Mystics to their first ever championship. She would lead them to one more championship before the siren call to Major League Baseball started.
Mo’ne Davis wanted to return to her hometown of Philadelphia and help lead the eternally-slumping Phillies out of the basement. When she signed her contract, the detractors came out in numbers.
“Distraction!” they cried.
She glared at them until they turned into dust.
“But girls can’t play…” they started.
She flipped her hair and watched them fall to the ground in convulsions.
Mo’ne Davis started opening day against the Washington Space Nationals, because even in 2030, the Nats were unable to secure a local broadcasting deal and had to split time between outer space and the nation’s capital.
She destroyed the opposition, from Tampa to Seattle, from Arizona to the moon, Davis left all the doubters in disgrace. And every day she moved the “well actually…” crowd into their hovels, mumbling about being “elite” as they stumbled in an empty twin bed at night.
She tore across the country; mowing down the mouth breathers with every pitch and watching a new fan spring up from the cracks in the barren earth. And with every step, they whispered “Mo’ne.”
