Chap38: Take a shot

It was time to hit the road again. Our next stop: Toronto, for our sixth game of the season. 

We boarded the team jet in the morning.

The flight was smooth. Some guys played cards, others watched film, and I spent some time going over the Raptors' defensive sets on my iPad. I knew they'd throw doubles at me early, trying to get the ball out of my hands. 

After landing in Toronto, we went straight to the hotel. The cold air hit immediately—fall in Canada was no joke. 

-Scotiabank Arena – Toronto, Canada, November 7, 2015

Every time I come here I'm happy, in my old life that's where I wanted to be.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed someone courtside. Dressed in all black, iced-out chain, sitting front row with a drink in his hand—Drake. I had met him back in the summer at Michael Rubin's White Party, and we had chopped it up a little.

-During Warmups

"Oh, look who decided to pull up." I hear Drake say from the side.

"You already know man." I respond to him.

"You're not going to leave with a W tonight, I'm warning you." He tells me.

"I know you don't think so." I say laughing.

"Aight, aight… but yo, after the season, you might wanna pull up here. First free agency coming up, right?"

"You really think i'm going to move from where i am." I answer him amused.

"I mean… I'm just sayin', bro. You Americans think it's different but it's like being in Chicago in terms of seasons, Toronto real nice in the summer, think about it."

"We'll see, fam, you never know, maybe one day."

-First Quarter

The Raptors came out aggressive, like they had something to prove.

First, I sized up Patrick Patterson on a switch, jab-stepped, then pulled a deep three in his face—cash.

Next trip down, I got the ball in the mid-post, spun baseline on DeRozan, and threw down a two-handed dunk over Jonas Valančiūnas.

Then, in transition, D-Rose hit me with a no-look pass, and another three from the left wing.

-Second Quarter

The Raptors weren't backing down, though. Lowry started heating up, knocking down back-to-back threes, and their defense tightened. They threw a box-and-one at me, sending traps every time I touched the ball. I had to adjust.

Instead of forcing shots, I played through D-Rose. I hit him with a quick give-and-go, and he finished a tough floater over Biyombo. 

-Third Quarter

I came out of halftime hot.

I hit a fadeaway over two defenders.

Next, I stripped DeRozan at half-court and threw down a fastbreak dunk. Then, I hit a three from way beyond the arc—nothing but net.

Drake had his hands on his head.

With five minutes left in the quarter, we had a 14-point lead. Toronto called timeout, and as I walked to our bench.

-Fourth Quarter

DeRozan went on a run—midrange jumpers, aggressive drives, and defensive stops. They cut the lead to five points with two minutes left.

Then came the moment.

Up 103-98, I had the ball at the top of the key, Drake standing courtside hyping up the defense.

"Lock his ass up!" He yelled.

I dribbled right, then crossed left, I stepped back, created space, and launched a three.

I turned to Drake, shrugging.

The crowd deflated. The Raptors missed their next shot, we hit our free throws, and that was it. Final score: 109-100, Magic win.

-Postgame

As I walked off, Drake was already waiting.

"I hate you, bro." He said.

I dapped him up. "Next time? Same result."

He shook his head.

We headed back to the locker room. I showered, changed, and by the time we got on the plane back to Orlando, most of us were either knocked out or locked into our own worlds.

-Asher's POV

Right now, Asher was sitting in the office of an NBA front office.

In the G-League, putting up solid numbers and showing real leadership, he finally caught the attention of a team.

The assistant GM smirked, tapping his pen against the desk. He leaned back slightly, folding his arms.

"We need to see if you can fit in here" He added. "Everything runs through our franchise guy. We need players who complement his game. Someone who can feed him the ball in the right spots, run the floor, and space out when needed."

Asher kept his posture straight, his face unreadable. "I bring a lot" He said calmly. "I can do this and If you need me to be a spark off the bench, I can do that too."

The GM nodded slowly, tapping his pen against the desk. "That's what we're trying to figure out. We want to see how you mesh with the team before we make any decisions."

The head coach crossed his arms. "We'll test you in a couple of different roles. See if you work as a backup point guard, maybe even as a sixth man. Worst case we cut you or we'll have you in the G League. Best case? You stay up here and earn a full contract."

Asher exhaled slightly, then nodded. "I just need a shot."

The GM smirked, pushing a folder across the desk. "Well, here it is. Ten-day contract."

Asher grabbed the folder, flipping through it briefly before standing up. He shook the GM's hand firmly. "I won't waste it."

-Hotel Room

Asher sat on the edge of the hotel bed, the ten-day contract resting on the nightstand beside him. He pulled out his phone, hesitating for a second before calling Paige. It didn't even ring twice before she picked up.

"Hey babe!" Paige's voice was bright, but he could tell she was curious. She knew he had the meeting today. "How'd it go?"

Asher took a deep breath, then let a small grin form on his lips. "I got a shot."

There was a pause, and then—"Ash, are you serious?!"

He chuckled. "Yeah, the Sacramento Kings are giving me a ten-day. They wanna see if I fit in."

Paige screamed on the other end. "I told you! Ash. I'm so proud of you!"

Asher leaned back against the bed, rubbing his face. "It's just a ten-day for now. No guarantees."

"That doesn't matter" She said firmly. "You're in the league. And once you're there, you're not leaving."

He smiled. "Yeah."

"When do you start?" She asks calming down.

"First practice for me, in two days."