Chapter 52: Barria’s Comeback Attack

As Andrew stood up from the bench, the entire Rockets squad was taken aback. His usual composed demeanor had shifted to something more intense, more commanding. Even Nicole and Thibodeau exchanged puzzled glances. When they saw the steely look in Andrew's eyes, they knew something serious was coming.

Andrew walked straight over to Barria, who sat slumped on the bench, his face etched with frustration. Without warning, Andrew smacked the top of his head. "You trying to get yourself cut from this team?" he growled.

The whole team was stunned. Andrew's sudden outburst was a far cry from his usual calm, strategic approach.

Barria looked up, startled, eyes wide as Andrew's words began to pierce through him.

"I'm not asking you to drop 30 points. I'm not asking for miracles. But if you can't keep up with a 31-year-old Iverson, then what the hell are you even doing here?" Andrew's voice was hard, relentless. The players around could feel the sting of his words.

Barria opened his mouth to respond, but Andrew wasn't done. "He's coming at you with everything, and you're just letting him walk all over you. He can't even hit threes, yet you're giving him free reign. Stick to him like glue. Make him feel you, make him uncomfortable! Or I swear, by tomorrow, you'll be off this roster and heading back to Puerto Rico!"

Barria's eyes were red, his face flushed. "Yes!" he finally managed to choke out, his voice shaking with emotion. Andrew, seeing the fire finally lit in the young player's eyes, gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Good. Now go show me what you've got."

The Rockets players sat in awe. This wasn't the Andrew they were used to seeing. The man was pushing Barria beyond his limits, not out of cruelty, but to drag the hidden potential out of him. Andrew knew, just like the players he'd once coached in college, Barria needed that spark—something to make him believe in himself.

The whistle blew, signaling a substitution. The Nuggets swapped out Iverson and Martin, while the Rockets sent Barria back in with Yao Ming.

Commentators Jackson and Brin were already shaking their heads. "Coach Andrew is taking a big risk here," Jackson said, disapprovingly. "Throwing Barria back in after that first-quarter disaster? This could be the kid's final minutes in the NBA."

Brin nodded. "It's a strange move. Barria hasn't shown he can defend Iverson, and sticking with him seems almost reckless. Even using Hyde might've been a safer option."

Back on the court, Barria was ready. The Nuggets, unaware of the fire that had just been ignited, continued their strategy. Iverson called for an isolation play, signaling for his teammates to clear out.

Iverson, ever the veteran, sized up Barria. He had dominated the kid all night, and this was just another easy bucket. He exploded forward, confident in his ability to beat Barria off the dribble.

SMACK!

Barria, quick as lightning, swatted the ball out of Iverson's hands. The arena erupted in shock. Hyde, alert to the steal, grabbed the loose ball and immediately pushed it up the court. And there was Barria again, flying down the court like a man possessed.

The crowd gasped as Barria, moving like a blur, sprinted ahead for a fast-break layup, just barely avoiding Diarra's outstretched arms. The ball swished through the hoop, and the crowd roared.

"He's got speed!" Brin exclaimed, eyes wide in disbelief.

Even Jackson couldn't help but be impressed. "That's game-changing speed! Maybe Andrew's gamble isn't so crazy after all."

On the bench, Andrew allowed himself a small, satisfied grin. Barria's speed was his weapon. Sure, his shooting and playmaking still needed work, but speed was something you couldn't teach.

Back on defense, Barria was locked in. Iverson, now more cautious, called for another isolation. He wasn't going to take Barria lightly anymore. This time, after a signature crossover, Iverson managed to create some space and attacked the rim, only to find Yao Ming towering over him. Iverson adjusted mid-air, attempting a tricky layup, but before he could finish, a hand slapped down on the ball.

"Beep!"

The ref blew the whistle—Barria had fouled him, but the effort was undeniable. Iverson was visibly rattled.

"That kid is fast," Iverson muttered as he headed to the free-throw line, wiping sweat from his brow.

On the next Rockets possession, Yao Ming missed a mid-range jumper, and the Nuggets secured the rebound. Iverson, still the orchestrator, sprinted down the court, determined to shake off Barria. But Barria was relentless, shadowing Iverson like a second skin. Every move Iverson made, Barria was there, cutting off angles, harassing him at every turn.

Frustrated, Iverson dumped the ball to Martin, hoping to reset the play. But by then, Barria had switched gears again, racing back to intercept. Martin, irritated, turned and tried a hook shot—only for Yao Ming to stuff it with a monstrous block.

The ball flew off the court, but once again, Barria was there. Diving after the loose ball, he tipped it back inbounds just as he collided with a row of spectators.

The arena was electric. This wasn't the same timid Barria they'd seen earlier. This was a player reborn, playing with reckless abandon and newfound confidence. The fans in the front row stood up, clapping as Barria quickly recovered and sprinted back into the play.

Yao Ming, seeing Barria open, delivered a bullet pass. Barria caught it in mid-air, twisting his body for a layup, only to be hammered by Martin's foul. Barria hit the floor hard, but within seconds, he was back on his feet, shaking off the pain and heading to the free-throw line.

The crowd roared with approval. The energy in the arena was palpable. A player they'd all written off was suddenly leading the charge.

Andrew watched from the bench, satisfaction flooding him. Barria had stepped up when it mattered most. This wasn't just a comeback for Barria; it was a statement.

This was the real Barria.