He used to play for another school where he would start. And he starred too. Scoring in double digits, he was a loud and brash player. Then he transferred. Lured with promises of being on a contending team to go with a better allowance, he fell for it. However, not only was he benched but also he lost his game, his confidence, and his swagger. His dreams of playing in the PBA were greatly dashed. He now regrets about moving.
In his last game for his second school last season, he was an afterthought. His team was comfortably ahead in a blowout and he was only brought in because the trainer reminded the coach. In those last five minutes, maybe it was better if he didn’t get off the bench. He just stood at one corner not really doing anything. Not exerting effort. His face emotionless but still full of pain.
In that last game, his teammates tore at the stat sheet to see how they did. He didn’t bother. After all there were a series of zeros in the columns next to his name.
It’s hard when you went from being the man to being the fourth option on offense. That eventually sunk down to where he would just be a role player in a finely tuned machine.
He feels sad. Real sad. His best hope is to latch on to a D-League team and show them that he can ball. Put points on the board. Reject weak-ass shots. But he asks himself, “Can I show them?” Even that statement is riddled with doubt.
Good luck with it, bro. I did my best to help. You know that.