Date: October 24, 2024
Opponent: San Antonio Spurs
Location: Frost Bank Center, San Antonio, TX
The tunnel to the court was dim and buzzing with anticipation. Beyond it, the roar of thousands echoed like thunder. Zoran Vranes rolled his shoulders and exhaled once through his nose, calm but locked in. The Mavericks' regular season opener was here—against the San Antonio Spurs—and he was about to check in.
This wasn't a trial anymore. This wasn't Summer League, wasn't practice. This was the NBA. Lights on, crowd live, standings on the line.
His headphones slipped off as Max Christie nudged him.
"You good?" Max asked, eyes scanning the crowd as they stepped onto the court.
"Locked in," Zoran said, voice quiet but firm.
Kidd had kept it simple before tip-off: "You weren't drafted. You're not supposed to be here. But none of that matters now. Play the right way, make the right reads. Be efficient."
Zoran didn't respond in the locker room. He just stared at the magnet board that showed the injured list. Kyrie Irving. Anthony Davis. Dereck Lively. Daniel Gafford. P.J. Washington. It read like a war report.
There was a reason he was getting minutes. The Mavs weren't healthy. They needed someone who could hold the system together and not blow coverages or jack shots like he was trying to go viral.
They needed control.
And that was what Zoran brought.
[SYSTEM ONLINE]
STATUS: GAME MODE — ACTIVE
Opponent Team AI: Active – San Antonio Spurs
Temporary Boosts
Court Vision +3%
Defensive Rotation Speed +2.5%
Catch & Shoot Footwork +1.5%
Mission Objective: Maintain 55%+ FG | 10+ Efficiency Rating | +Win for Bonus SP
He checked in with 5:41 left in the first quarter. Mavericks were down 16–10, struggling to create good shots. San Antonio's defense was keyed in, and Wembanyama had already forced two airballs.
Zoran's first action was subtle. A brush screen to get Christie open, a quick cut to the elbow, and he caught the swing pass with his feet set.
Pull-up midrange.
Swish.
No celebration. Just a backpedal and a nod.
Next play, he ghosted through a double drag screen, caught the ball in motion, and lasered a one-handed skip pass to Hardy in the corner.
Bang. Three.
The ball found him again the following possession. He faked a drive, used a jab step, and pulled up just inside the arc. Clean.
Tied game.
Kidd didn't say anything, but when Zoran glanced toward the bench, he saw one of the assistants whisper something and circle a name on the rotation card.
The Spurs came back with Sochan muscling downhill. Zoran slid in help position, stunted, recovered. Didn't reach. The shot missed. No stat, but it was the right play. Coaches noticed.
Wembanyama tried to trap a high screen next time down, and Zoran calmly hit the short roll to Powell, who finished it with a two-handed flush.
26–26, end of the quarter.
He sat. Briefly. Headband off, towel over his neck. He didn't say anything, just sipped water and kept staring at the iPad screen showing San Antonio's defensive rotations.
His mind didn't drift to fame, to tweets, to highlights. It was all patterns. Angles. Reads.
Zoran played the game like chess, and the Spurs were just the next board.
He hadn't dominated. Not yet. But he had played perfectly—two assists, two buckets, zero mistakes, 100% from the field.
And everyone noticed.