Date: November 6, 2024 — Dallas, Texas
Zoran Vranes sat in the Mavericks' film room, leaned back in a fold-out chair with his hoodie pulled halfway over his head, one knee bouncing.
The screen ahead was paused mid-play—an off-ball switch from the Pistons game that led to a blown coverage. The kind of clip that got dissected in coaching meetings, paused a dozen times, and then quietly brushed aside when wins piled up.
But they hadn't won that last one.
And the tension from the Detroit loss hadn't faded.
Coach Kidd stood at the front of the room, remote in hand, slowly rewinding and replaying the sequence. Zoran's eyes tracked the movements—his own rotation had been crisp. Dinwiddie had stayed flat. The breakdown came from Washington lagging behind on the closeout.
But no one said anything.
The silence was professional. But heavy.
"Ball pressure has to be better," Kidd finally said, letting the clip run through one last time. "Too many uncontested reads."
Zoran's name wasn't mentioned.
Still, he didn't let his shoulders drop. Didn't tune it out.
He knew how this worked.
You could go from highlight reels to forgotten in a week.
Especially on a 10-day contract.
Later that afternoonDallas Mavericks Practice Facility
Zoran stretched against the padded wall by the baseline, earbuds in, phone tucked into his compression shorts. He watched as Daniel Gafford jogged light laps, still easing back into full practice. AD was off to the side, seated on a training table, wrapped in an ice sleeve but locked in on the court.
Kyrie was there too—braced, but walking now. He nodded as Zoran passed.
Small signs of trust. The kind you couldn't fake.
Still no word from management. No meeting. No hint of a second 10-day or a full-season contract.
Zoran had started letting himself believe they'd offer something. That his consistency, his control, his efficiency would matter. That replacing Dante Exum—who'd still been sidelined with a calf strain—would be enough of a contribution.
But the Mavericks' silence? It was starting to feel intentional.
Like they were waiting for something.
Or someone.
SYSTEM"Behavioral Analytics Report: Your replacement window may be closing. Internal expectations shifting."Temporary Buff Activated: Steeled Focus — Boost to situational awareness during practice and film. Duration: 48 hours.
He exhaled.
Then tucked his water bottle under his arm, jogged to the sideline, and got back into shooting drills with Max Christie.
Christie gave him a look. "You good?"
"Always," Zoran said, barely glancing up.
"Alright. Just… you seem tense."
Zoran didn't answer right away.
Then: "I'm focused."
Christie didn't push.
They kept shooting.
That evening
The Dallas skyline shimmered beneath the apartment balcony. Zoran sat outside in a hoodie, legs stretched, sipping protein shake from a glass. He had a small table set up with a chessboard on it, mid-game against himself—black queen hanging, white bishop poised to punish.
This was how he unwound.
No TV. No social media. No party invites.
Just quiet games and self-analysis.
He thought of his mother's voice from their last call.
"Mi hijo, don't let them use you and toss you aside. Know your worth."
He hadn't told her about the doubts yet. About how no one in the front office had said a word after five games. Not even Nico Harrison, who'd been so welcoming on day one.
Zoran hadn't played perfectly, but his numbers were solid—17 points per game, 56% shooting, strong on-ball defense, and hardly any turnovers.
And yet…
Nothing.
Elsewhere
At an Orlando Magic facility office, two assistant GMs sat around a monitor.
"Vranes, huh?" one said, clicking through clips. "Good pace. High IQ. Fits with our guards."
The other leaned forward. "You think Dallas lets him walk?"
"If they get Exum back and want size? Yeah. He's the odd man out."
The first GM nodded slowly. "Might be worth a call."
But it would never reach Zoran.
Not yet.
Back in Dallas — November 6, late night
Zoran sat in bed with a notepad in hand. He wasn't writing poetry or diary entries.
He was drawing floor diagrams.
Flare screen reads. Ghost pick variations. Slips into weakside duck-ins.
His off-court obsession wasn't luxury cars or fashion brands.
It was structure. Basketball geometry.
Patterns and counters.
The only thing that made him feel fully in control.
The next morning — November 7Mavericks Practice Facility
Jaden Hardy dapped him up.
"Yo, bro, heard Orlando's sniffing around. You hear anything?"
Zoran blinked. "Nope."
Hardy shrugged. "Wouldn't be shocked. You're killin' it."
Zoran didn't respond right away.
Then, calm as ever: "I like it here."
In the hallway, Nico Harrison was on the phone.
He glanced over at Zoran as the young guard passed.
But didn't wave.
Didn't nod.
Didn't stop talking.
SYSTEM"Warning: Decision Point Approaching."Option A: Continue relying on performance.Option B: Use one-time 'Request Agent Push' token (grants brief media boost, no guarantee).Note: Using the token may backfire if front office views as leverage.
Zoran dismissed the prompt.
He wasn't here to politic.
He was here to hoop.
Even if the silence was starting to feel like betrayal.