Step Back

The final buzzer had long since faded into silence.

Players get out of the gym, their jerseys damp with sweat, their footsteps echoing faintly across the wooden court.

But two figures stood descending from the stands steady, deliberate, and calm.

Vinnie adjusted the strap of his crossbody bag, the empty coffee cup still in hand, while Hao, ever the optimist, scanned the court.

"There," Hao said, lifting a hand to wave.

Across the court, a young man with messy hair brushing just above his eyes looked up. Wearing a green jersey Number 23 he gave a slight nod and jogged over.

His steps weren't hurried.

But there was something in the way he carried himself.

Hope.

Or maybe… naive confidence.

As the three met near the sideline, Hao smiled and introduced them.

"Vinnie, this is Aleksandar. Aleksandar, this is Vinnie he's from Italy. If it's alright, let's speak English from here on."

He placed a hand on Aleksandar's shoulder, friendly, familiar.

"He plays with me in Argentina for Monjitas del Cielo our WBA Division 2 club. Like I said in my message, I recommended you to our coach, and he gave us full permission to offer you a contract today. This season, we have two open roster spots. One we'll assign during preseason tryouts… and the other, well"

"Was meant for you," Hao said, with conviction.

Aleksandar's eyes widened.

For a moment, you could see it that spark in his expression. A future unraveling in his mind.

But before he could even begin to speak

"Let me stop you there," Vinnie interrupted, his tone sharp as a blade.

The atmosphere shifted.

The gym, once buzzing with post game noise, suddenly felt too quiet.

Aleksandar blinked, thrown off.

Vinnie stared directly at him. His gaze was cool, analytical. Dissecting.

"I'll be honest with you... You're not cut out to be a point guard."

A silence fell.

Like someone had slammed a locker door in a cathedral.

Aleksandar's expression stiffened confused. Betrayed.

Just moments ago, Hao was talking about a contract.

What was happening?

Vinnie didn't stop.

"Your game has... issues. Minor ones, sure. Fixable. But two of them are big enough that I can't ignore them."

He raised a single finger.

"First, your stamina. Hao and I only watched five minutes, but both of us noticed it You hit your limit by the fifteenth minute. And this wasn't even a high tempo match. Most of the game was slow, half court sets. No real pressure. And you still faded."

He let that sink in.

"That might seem like a minor flaw. And maybe in a vacuum, it is. With proper training, diet, and coaching, we could fix that in half a season."

Then his voice dropped, cold and final.

"But the second problem… That's the dealbreaker."

Vinnie's eyes narrowed.

"You don't play with logic. You rely on instincts. Raw ability. Which is fine if you're a highlight reel. But not if you want to run a team."

Aleksandar said nothing. He just stood there frozen. Tense.

Vinnie kept going.

"In that fast break with Number 30, you pulled up from three. No point guard does that. You had two logical choices lay it up yourself, or pass to 30 and get the easy bucket. But you went with the least efficient option."

His voice was relentless now.

"Same on that contested step back three. Two defenders jumped you, which means one of your teammates was wide open. Any proper point guard would've read that. Passed. Trusted your teammates. You didn't."

"You made it about you."

Aleksandar's fists tightened at his sides, jaw clenched.

But the words cut through him like broken glass.

Then came the final blow.

"If you walked into our club's preseason tryout tomorrow… You wouldn't make the team."

Silence.

Hao, quiet the entire time, looked down. He couldn't argue. He wanted to.

But Vinnie hadn't said a word that wasn't true.

And Aleksandar…

Aleksandar looked like someone had just erased the dream he hadn't even fully grasped yet.

Then Vinnie turned without another word.

His boots echoed against the hardwood as he walked toward the edge of the court.

There, sitting alone, was a ball scuffed, faded orange.

He picked it up. Spun it once in his hand.

Then looked back over his shoulder.

"You want a contract?" he said, voice low.

"Prove me wrong."

Aleksandar stood frozen, the dream he'd been so close to now feeling like a cruel illusion.

But then a sudden thud.

A basketball cut through the air and spun in a perfect arc before landing right in his hands.

Aleksandar caught it instinctively, and looked up in surprise.

Vinnie stood a few meters away, hands in his coat pockets, gaze sharp but calm.

"So…" Aleksandar muttered, narrowing his eyes, "you want to play one on one with me now?"

Vinnie didn't flinch.

Didn't even blink.

"No," he said flatly. "Just… shoot."

Aleksandar blinked.

"Shoot?"

"From the three point line," Vinnie said, his voice low but charged with something new.

"I want to confirm something."

Aleksandar hesitated, but then… slowly nodded.

He stepped back. Took a breath. Planted his feet.

His arms moved like poetry, legs coiled like a spring and at the very peak of his jump, he released the ball.

It sailed through the air in a perfect arc, clean and sharp like it was laser guided.

Swish.

The net sang.

Vinnie's expression, once unreadable, shifted.

His brow lifted. His lips curled not into a smirk, but a spark of recognition. There it was. A heartbeat. A jolt of electricity.

"I noticed it during the game," Vinnie said, now walking toward him.

"You've got a prefect shooting form. Smooth, balanced, confident."

He stopped and looked Aleksandar directly in the eyes.

"Tell me out of 50 shots like that… how many do you make?"

Aleksandar thought for a moment. Not cocky. Not too humble.

"Around 40, I guess."

Vinnie raised an eyebrow.

"With that form? I expected you to say more."

Aleksandar frowned, confused again.

"What does this mean now? You were just telling me I'm not good enough. That I wasn't cut out for this."

Vinnie exhaled. Slowly. Deliberately.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?" Aleksandar asked.

"Not thinking. You're assuming everything is binary. That you're either a star or a failure. But I never said you're hopeless."

"I said you're not a point guard."

The tension twisted for a moment, then began to unravel into something warmer, something realer.

"I meant what I said. Your instincts? Too chaotic. But your shot? Your footwork on emergency brakes?You're not a lead guard… You're a weapon."

Aleksandar's eyes widened.

Vinnie continued:

"If this were the NBA, you'd be repositioned yesterday. But this is WBA. We don't care about positions. We care about roles. About execution."

He turned toward Hao now his voice ringing with resolve.

"Hao. Give him the contract."

Hao, who had been standing with bated breath the entire time, grinned like a kid watching a miracle.

He dug into his bag and pulled out a slim black folder the kind that changed lives.

Aleksandar stared at it in disbelief.

Vinnie looked back once more.

"We're gonna turn that elite shooting and quick stops into a two way catch and shoot demon. No pressure to run the floor. No pressure to think like a PG. Just read, react, and punish.

He paused… then smiled.

"So... what do you say, Aleksandar?"

And in that moment, something clicked in Aleksandar's chest.

The doubt, the sting of criticism, the confusion It all burned away in the fire of a new beginning.

He reached for the pen.