Chapter 374: Hate Makes Me Unstoppable.
(Side Story-2)
I've spent my whole life on the sidelines. Watching. Coaching. Guiding others to do what I could never do myself.
It started when I was a kid, completely consumed by basketball. My family had enough money to send me to the U.S. for high school, and for a while, I thought I was on my way.
Coaches loved my basketball IQ—I could see plays unfold before they happened, read defenses like an open book. Teammates trusted me because I made them better. I wasn't the fastest or the strongest, but I always knew where to be, how to move, how to make the right decision.
But by my senior year, reality hit.
I stopped growing.
At 5'7" (1.7m), no amount of court vision or basketball smarts could make up for what I lacked in height. The whispers started. "He's good, but... too small. Too slow. Not athletic enough." And just like that, my NBA dream slipped through my fingers. No one said it outright, but I could feel it—every scout, every coach, every teammate. They all saw my ceiling before I did.
By the time I graduated college, I'd accepted it. The league wasn't for me. Coaching, though? That was something I could do. Something I was good at. I found joy in helping young players get better, in crafting strategies, in watching my plays come to life on the court—even if I wasn't the one executing them.
My first job was as a volunteer assistant at a local high school. The pay was nonexistent, but I didn't care. I was around the game, and that was enough. Eventually, I worked my way up to a full-time assistant coaching position at a small Division III college. The hours were brutal, the pay barely enough to cover rent, but I made it work. My family's modest financial support kept me from sinking, and basketball kept me going.