Behold, the Birth of the Legend of Portland's Jake Layman

I remember where I was when the legend began. I was sitting on the floor, watching the Portland Trail Blazers square off against the Golden State Warriors, a team that had, thus far, not looked even remotely their theoretical best. There was a dream in the air that night: that the Dubs would be rusty enough for the Blazers to sneak up behind them and nick a win out of their back pocket, a shiny gold coin to keep on the mantelpiece.

Unfortunately, it did not turn out that way. On that fateful night, the Dubs kicked the living shit out of Portland. Curry shed every conceivable defender on a series of picks and went five-for-ten from three. Ian Clark put everyone in a blender. Evan Turner, the Blazers' new man on the wing, went back and forth between "mild competence" and "play so horrifying I was scared children might watch it." Damian Lillard and C.J. McCollum didn't manage to sink a single three-pointer.

And so, despair. Depression. The kind of sports numbness that nonsensically drags you into a fourth quarter when a team gets openly outclassed. But then, in a flash of light in that half-full arena, he appeared:

On a night when Evan Turner grinded against the limits of NBA play, as your mind races with all kinds of wonderins about wing play, there he was, an angel draped in artificial light. In less than eight minutes, Jake Layman, the 47th pick of the 2016 NBA Draft, was the all-time franchise leader for three-pointers in a debut. While the Blazers sat at the bottom of the Warriors sewer, a light appeared from the grate—a bearded light, with a sweet stroke.

The world was abuzz. When will he play again!? It was all anyone could talk about, seeing as the election was WAY too depressing (and the worst hadn't even happened yet!). It was clear to all, after Layman's six minutes of playing time, that we would need to see him again soon, to prove that he was, in fact, one of the most dominant forces to ever set down onto hardwood. A hurricane of dreams, a flood of honey, a quake that splits the earth open and pours forth hot molten chocolate.

But Terry Stotts, the Blazers' very tall coach, lives by a code of seniority. Layman had not earned his trust yet; Stotts' price is very high. McCollum rode pine for two years before he managed to supplant Arron Afflalo in the rotation, deep in the 2015 playoffs.

As if sensing the pangs of hunger, fate once again intervened. On Wednesday, the Blazers, exhausted after a barn burner in Phoenix on Election Night and squaring off in Los Angeles against the Clippers—who have kind of been the best team in the league—got absolutely destroyed, notching just 50 points across the first three quarters. The starters managed to put up only33 points combined. As the standard back-to-back blowout turned into a truly embarrassing meltdown, Terry sat all pertinent players and brought J.L. back in. He was a little less impressive—nine points across 16 minutes, and only one three—but he also did this:

Thus searing the Legend of Layman into the mind of the world even more. Even his name adds to the myth: a layman is, of course, an amateur, a hobbyist. It's strange name for a professional athlete, especially one who has become, at this time, the greatest rate scorer in in the history of the NBA:

Move over Michael Jordan and George Gervin. Portland @Trailblazers rookie Jake Layman averages the most points per 36 mins in NBA history. pic.twitter.com/NmklcckkE9
— ESPN Stats & Info (@ESPNStatsInfo) November 10, 2016

Can he keep it up? It's hard to say definitively. If this election taught us anything, it's that projections are bullshit, and the only way to gauge anything with certainty is to observe the world as it stands. And right now, Jake Layman, in his 24 minutes played, is the magic man who can solve all of Portland's—nay, the world's—problems. Would that we could be frozen in this moment forever, the moment Layman is in right now, more myth than man, his bones and sinews infused with the divinity of perfection, his potential to make magic as infinite at the evening sky.

But time moves inexorably on, and we can only observe it play out at her merciless pace. May Jake Layman bring all of Desire's dreams to life.