The Miami Heat didn't play around.
From the moment warmups started, Zoran could feel the tension in the air. Not the theatrical kind, either. The Heat weren't interested in antics. They were professionals. Methodical. Cold.
Jimmy Butler sat at the end of their bench, dressed in black warmups, arms crossed. He wasn't suiting up tonight, but his presence alone made the arena feel heavier. Bam Adebayo went through his defensive slides like he was in the playoffs. Jaime Jaquez Jr. was bouncing around with that rookie fire, and Kyle Lowry—older but dangerous—had a look like he knew something no one else did.
Zoran had studied them all. He knew Miami didn't play a traditional style. They grinded possessions out. They pressured the ball. They forced bad decisions, then punished you for making them.
"Yo, rookie," Max Christie said, slapping him lightly on the back. "You locked in?"
Zoran didn't look away from the court.
"Yeah."
No smile. No swagger. Just focus.
They were 2-0. This was game three. He wasn't here to celebrate.
He was here to make the Mavericks win again.
Tip-Off - 7:32 p.m.
Dallas started with Klay Thompson, Christie, P.J. Washington, Dwight Powell, and Zoran.
Miami answered with Lowry, Jaquez, Duncan Robinson, Caleb Martin, and Bam.
Zoran took the opening minutes to read. He didn't force shots. Just moved the ball, stayed in passing lanes, and navigated Miami's zone pressure.
Three possessions in, he had his first look. Klay caught a hand-off from Powell, kicked it to Zoran on the wing. A closeout came late.
Splash.
3-2, Dallas.
The Heat answered with a slow grind. Lowry orchestrated every cut, every curl. Duncan Robinson hit a contested three over a switching Washington. Miami pulled ahead, 10-6.
Then came Zoran's moment.
Kyle Lowry tried to draw a charge on the break.
Zoran euro-stepped around him and floated it high off glass.
10-8.
On the other end, Zoran jumped a pass meant for Jaquez. Interception. He didn't go coast-to-coast. He slowed it down, ran the set. Found Washington trailing for a two-handed dunk.
10-10.
Timeout, Miami.
Zoran walked to the bench, heart steady, breathing even.
Jason Kidd didn't say much.
"Keep making the right reads."
Zoran nodded.
He always did.
Late First Quarter
With Dinwiddie and Naji Marshall checking in, Zoran moved off-ball more.
Still, he found gaps.
Late clock situation, six seconds left—Dinwiddie drove, kicked to Zoran in the corner. One dribble, side-step.
Cash.
That was five.
He ended the first quarter with 5 points, 2 assists, and a steal.
Mavs up 24-22.
In the huddle, Klay leaned in.
"They're adjusting to you. Bam's shading over more."
Zoran nodded. "I saw."
Klay grinned. "That means they respect you."
Zoran didn't respond.
But he felt it.
This wasn't summer league. This wasn't open runs in Watts.
This was the NBA.
And they were starting to pay attention.
[To be continued in Chapter 24]
Zoran Vranes (End of Q1):
Points: 5
Assists: 2
Steals: 1
FG: 2/3
3PT: 1/1