There was a period in early 2021 where waking up at 3 a.m. to fight bots for a digital pack of basketball highlights felt completely rational.

The site barely worked. There was no proper queue system. Pack drops were chaos. You refreshed endlessly hoping to somehow get through before the system crashed or the packs sold out. And yet, for a brief moment in time, it felt like the future.

I joined NBA Top Shot in January of 2021. My first purchase was a Tyrese Maxey rookie moment for around $65. A Kentucky Wildcat. I remember accidentally buying four packs instead of two because the site was glitching so badly that I genuinely did not know what had gone through and what hadn't. At the time, I was frustrated. In hindsight, I had no idea how impossible packs were about to become over the following weeks.

Like many people in those early days, I treated NBA Top Shot like an ATM. Packs that cost $9, $14, or $25 could immediately be flipped for hundreds of dollars. Moments would sell seconds after being listed. My account value exploded. At one point, my initial investment of roughly $150 had grown to more than $20,000. I bought packs, flipped moments, and bought more packs. It was exhilarating, but it also was never sustainable.

Eventually the oversupply came. The speculative mania faded. The broader NFT market collapsed under the weight of bad actors, low quality projects, greed, and an obsession with financial extraction over actual utility or technology. Many people left the space bitter and embarrassed. To this day, the words "NFT" and "Web3" still carry baggage because of that era. And honestly, some of the criticism was deserved. Too much of the space became focused on price charts instead of product quality. Communities became transactional. Everyone was trying to get rich quickly. Very few people stopped to ask what the technology itself actually enabled.

But despite all of that, I kept coming back.

Not always consistently. There were stretches where I engaged with Top Shot every single day and genuinely loved what the team at Dapper was building. There were also periods where I disappeared entirely for months at a time. In 2022, I bought the infamous overpriced LaMelo Ball Cool Cats moment and joined the Cool Cats community. Financially, it probably was not my smartest decision, but like many OG collectors in the space, there was something meaningful about it. It felt like a badge from a specific moment in internet culture and digital collecting history.

Over time, my relationship with Top Shot changed. The speculative frenzy disappeared and what remained underneath was something I realized I actually enjoyed: collecting.

I have been a sports collector my entire life. Cards. Memorabilia. Stories attached to moments in sports history. At the same time, I have always been drawn toward emerging technology and early adoption. To me, Top Shot sits directly at the intersection of those two interests, which is why I find myself re-engaging with the platform again during these NBA Playoffs.

Ironically, it was one of the simplest mechanics that pulled me back in: the "Top Shot This" packs released after major playoff performances. Near real-time moments minted from games the night before. Timely. Relevant. Connected to the emotional energy of live sports.

I have long believed this is where digital collectibles become truly interesting. One of my favorite Top Shot experiments happened during the summer of 2021 when moments could only be minted by fans physically present inside arenas. Suddenly, attendance itself had utility. Fans were rewarded for showing up. Scarcity became organic rather than artificial. The collectible was directly tied to being part of a live shared experience. That feels far more powerful to me than endless manufactured supply.

Today, after spending thousands over the years, my collection is worth far less than it once was. Roughly $4,000 depending on the market that day. Strangely, I am less bothered by that than I would have expected a few years ago because I no longer view the platform the same way.

Today I am buying Series 1 debuts of future Hall of Famers. I am collecting iconic moments from championship runs. I recently picked up a couple of Legendary moments. I am completing sets. I am chasing moments I genuinely want to own rather than moments I simply think I can flip.

And yes, I still believe there is long-term upside here.

Not because I think every digital collectible will suddenly return to 2021 prices, but because I believe the underlying concepts still make sense. Officially licensed digital scarcity makes sense. Programmable fandom makes sense. Global accessibility makes sense. Younger generations valuing digital ownership differently than previous generations makes sense. Gamified collecting makes sense. The idea of permanently preserving sports history on-chain makes sense.

More broadly, I still believe the Flow blockchain ecosystem remains one of the better examples of consumer-facing Web3 infrastructure that normal people can actually use without needing to understand the underlying technology.

Most importantly though, I am having fun again.

I still buy packs occasionally. I still browse the marketplace late at night during playoff games. I still get excited when I find an undervalued moment or complete a set I care about. The difference is that now I understand what I am actually collecting.

Not just moments, but memories from a very strange and fascinating moment in internet culture, sports fandom, and digital ownership.

LeBron James — Kobe Tribute Dunk, Feb 6 2020 — #142/1000 LE

This is the one I keep coming back to. February 6, 2020 — four days after Kobe Bryant died. LeBron James, visibly emotional all week, goes up for a dunk in the first game back in Los Angeles. The arena was a memorial. The moment is frozen in time. I own serial #142 of 1,000. That number means nothing financially. It means everything to me as a collector.

Luka Dončić — Top Shot Debut, Mar 11 2020 — #1206/1406 LE

March 11, 2020. The last NBA game played before COVID forced the league to suspend the season. Nobody in that arena knew it at the time. Luka Dončić, 21 years old, throws down a dunk against the Nuggets. The world stops four hours later. This moment exists at the exact hinge point between before and after. I think about that every time I look at it.

Paolo Banchero — Legendary Holo Icon, Mar 3 2026 — #12/39 LE

My first Legendary moment. Paolo Banchero, Orlando Magic, serial #12 of 39. I have followed the Magic my entire life. Watching Paolo develop into a genuine franchise cornerstone has been one of the more satisfying things about following basketball over the past few years. This one felt right to own.

Anfernee Hardaway — Top Shot Debut, Feb 23 1994 — #144/168 LE

Penny Hardaway. February 23, 1994. Run It Back: Origins. Serial #144 of 168. This might be my favorite moment in the entire collection right now. The vintage card design, the Orlando Magic pinstripes, the era — it captures exactly what the Run It Back sets do best: take legends from before Top Shot existed and give collectors a way to own a piece of their story. I grew up watching Penny. This one is not for sale.