BILLION DOLLAR SHOT

Chapter 5 – Enemies in the Locker Room

Three days after Andre’s electrifying debut, his face was on every sports blog, trending under hashtags like #CorbinCameToPlay and #FromJanitorToGiant. Pundits compared him to rookie legends. Talent scouts whispered about MVP Award potential. But inside the locker room of FC Titania, glory didn’t protect you from venom. In fact it made you a target.

Morning Training – 7:30 A.M. Andre was the first on the court. Again. Coach grunted in approval as he passed. Clive, watching from the stands, leaned into his phone. “He’s up before sunrise. Doesn’t party. Doesn’t chase clout. But Reznov’s getting worse. Last night, he skipped tactics briefing.”

On the court, the tension snapped like electric wire. Reznov shoulder-checked Andre mid-drill, nearly knocking him over. During passing exercises, he refused to feed him the ball. The teammates played along laughing behind hands, pretending not to see. Andre said nothing. But the heat in his eyes was boiling.

Film Room – That Afternoon The team reviewed the last game footage. Andre’s assist was played over and over. The camera caught his calm face mid-pass. His vision. His timing. Coach nodded.

“That’s what happens when hunger meets patience.” The room went quiet. Reznov sat in the back, arms crossed, chewing gum like it owed him money. He suddenly barked out, “Let’s not act like one pass makes a career. We’ve all had flashy moments. Doesn’t mean we crown the janitor king.” A few chuckled.

Coach turned slowly. “Reznov,” he said, voice low, “get up.”

“What?”

“Out.”

“You serious?”

“You’re benched for the next two sessions. You want to talk over film, do it from the parking lot.”

The room fell silent. Reznov stormed out, shoving a chair as he passed Andre. It clattered to the floor.

Later That Day – Andre’s Apartment Andre scrolled through his old I*******m account. No blue checkmark. Just grainy selfies, fried rice dinners, and motivational captions. One photo was of a note he had taped to his wall years ago: “They’ll laugh at you until they need you.” He was about to close the app when a DM came in:

Teanna : “I flew into Madrid. I’m outside your building.” Andre stared at the screen. For a long time. Then went to the window. She was there. In a black dress. Eyes wide. A suitcase next to her.

He opened the door. Slowly. She stepped in without asking. Silence. Then she smiled and said, “So this is where legends sleep now?” Andre leaned against the wall. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you. To talk. To explain.” “You didn’t care when I was broke.” “I made a mistake”

“No,” he interrupted. “You made a choice. Same way I’m making mine now.” She walked closer, voice softening. “You look so different. Stronger. I just… I missed you.”

Andre’s jaw tightened. His memories clawed back her words the night she left: “You’re just a loser with a basketball. Grow up.”

Now she was back in his life like a raincloud trailing behind a rainbow. He stepped aside, gesturing to the door. “You can miss me from outside.” Her face changed. For a second, she looked like the Teanna who had once loved him. Or pretended to.

“You’ll regret this,” she whispered.

“No,” he said. “I regretted trusting you.” She left without another word.

Back in the Locker Room – The Next Morning Andre arrived to find a pair of cut shoelaces on his bench.

Again, no one said anything. He sat down calmly. Pulled out a fresh pair from his bag. Coach entered moments later. “Reznov’s out of the next two matches. Management wants to test new blood.” All eyes turned to Andre. The unspoken message was clear: You’re up. Permanently.

Game Night – Titania vs. Storm FC Packed stadium. Fans chanting his name now“Cor-BIN! Cor-BIN!” He started strong. Two assists. One mid-air steal. A smooth step-back three-pointer. But then, the incident. Mid-second half, just as Andre sprinted for a fast break, a teammate tripped him. Deliberately. The crowd gasped. Andre fell hard. Skidded on the hardwood. Sprained wrist. No foul called.

The teammate Stefan, one of Reznov’s inner circle didn’t even pretend to be sorry. Clive stood up in the VIP box. Face tense. Fists clenched. Andre looked up from the floor, pain radiating through his arm but his eyes weren’t in pain. They were cold. Calculating.

Post-Game – Locker Room No one spoke to him. He sat with an ice pack wrapped tight around his wrist. Then someone placed a box beside him. A black, sleek package. Inside: custom titanium training gloves. No note. No brand. Just one line etched inside the box lid: "Let them break you. Then show them what they built."

Andre stared at the gloves. Then smiled, just a little. The game had changed. And so had he.