LeBron James and Carmelo Anthony meet again tonight as they did on that brisk, grey February afternoon in 2002.

This was before they were each iconic figures, nationally recognizable by just their first names. Before Carmelo nearly single-handedly led Syracuse to a National Championship. Before LeBron became the youngest player ever to win Rookie of the Year. Before Carmelo became the first NBA rookie to lead his team in playoff scoring since David Robinson. Before LeBron scored his team’s final 25 points in Game 5 of the Eastern Conference Finals against the Pistons. Before Carmelo became a starter in the NBA All-Star game. Before LeBron won the Most Valuable Player award. Before the movies, the books, and the Sports Illustrated covers. Before they played on consecutive Olympic teams together and before they each won gold medals.

Back then Carmelo and LeBron were merely teenagers with expectations befitting of grown men. They were each months away from their 18th birthdays. Anthony was a sensational senior from Oak Hill Academy in Virginia and James was a junior at Ohio’s St. Vincent – St. Mary High School who already owned First Team All-America accolades and, in fact, was the first sophomore ever to earn such a distinction by USA Today.

This was Magic Johnson and Larry Bird locking eyes as opponents for the first time. Or Patrick Ewing facing the then-named Akeem Olajuwon. Future rivals with huge neon signs hanging over each of them, blinking one theme blatantly clear to anyone watching: Greatness.

Only this wasn’t college basketball’s grandest stage, it was the “Prime Time Shootout,” a high school showcase played at the Sovereign Bank Arena in Trenton, New Jersey. The audience still appreciated what they were watching and for obvious reasons. These were basketball people. NBA scouts and executives, college coaches, recruiting gurus, gym rats, and gym cockroaches. The best middle school ballplayer in the country, Derrick Caracter, was in the third row, sitting next to another basketball character, the quietly fabled William “Wes” Wesley.

James was herculean, yet Anthony was more skilled. And Anthony had better teammates. James dunked and dished. Anthony shot and uplifted. Back and forth they soared, dueling artists, taking turns painting their own hoops masterpiece.

James finished with 36 points, but Anthony finished with 34 points and a 72-66 victory.

And while they may not have known they witnessed the conception of a rivalry, those in attendance knew they saw – no, they felt – something special. Or unique. Or captivating. The specific description didn’t matter, per se, yet every attendee would surely try to find a way to convey who they saw and why it mattered.

Mike Miller understood. He was one year removed from his own Rookie of the Year award and, thus, knew something about youthful NBA success. As he left the arena – clad, ironically, in Bird’s number 33 Boston Celtics jersey – my friends asked the Orlando Magic wingman what he thought of the display. He just shrugged, blinked, and gave an open-mouthed look of “Wow.”

He was speechless, but his face told us just how lucky he felt to be a part of history. I felt the same way.