NBA: Road to glory

After a workout...

"Norman, what becomes of Jackson?"I ask.

"Jackson Ellis? if you really want to know right now he..."

In another gym...

Asher laced up his sneakers in the Valley Suns practice facility, rolling his shoulders as he got ready for another day of workouts. The G-League season was approaching fast, and after a strong year, he was determined to take another leap.

The coaches had hinted at some roster changes during the offseason, but nothing had been confirmed yet. He wasn't too concerned—he'd learned to keep his head down and focus on himself.

The moment he stepped onto the court, he noticed it. The usual energy in the gym had shifted. A few of his teammates were glancing toward the far end of the court, where someone new was already getting shots up.

Tall, broad shoulders, confident stance—whoever this dude was, he wasn't some random camp invite. He carried himself like he'd been here before, like he already owned the place.

Asher jogged over to one of his teammates, lowering his voice. "Who's that?"

The guy just shook his head. 

Asher narrowed his eyes. He hated cryptic answers. Whatever. He'd find out soon enough.

A few minutes later, Coach Davis blew the whistle, calling everyone to the center of the court.

"Alright. Before we start, I wanna introduce someone to y'all. We got a new addition to the squad this season."

The new guy stepped forward with a cocky smirk, looking around at the team like he was already sizing them up.

"Name's Jackson Ellis. Hope y'all are ready."

Asher's jaw clenched.

'No way.

Of all the people who could've joined the team... it had to be him?'

Asher took a deep breath and stepped onto the court, tuning out the noise around him. He was here to work.

From the moment practice started, Jackson Ellis tried to poke at him. Little comments under his breath, smirks after made shots, even bumping into him a little harder than necessary during drills. Typical Ellis behavior.

"C'mon man, we know each other a little. Ain't you gonna say somethin' back?" Jackson muttered after hitting a mid-range jumper over one of their teammates.

Asher didn't even look his way. Instead, he grabbed the ball, pushed the pace, and orchestrated the next play. His focus was locked 

The scrimmages started, and that's when Asher's growth really showed. Last season, he was still adjusting, figuring out his role. Now? He commanded the floor.

His vision was sharper. His passes were quicker. His ability to read defenses had taken a step up for a g-league player, and his confidence showed in every possession.

When he wasn't attacking the rim himself, he was setting up his teammates with pinpoint dimes. No wasted movements. No hesitation. Just pure control.

Coach Davis took notice.

"Alright, alright! That's what I like to see!" he shouted after Asher threaded a perfect bounce pass between two defenders for an easy layup.

Jackson, for all his trash talk, had to respect it. He still threw some jabs, but they weren't hitting the same.

By the end of practice, the energy was different. Everyone could see it—this wasn't the same Asher from last year.

As he walked off the court, grabbing his water bottle, Coach Davis pulled him aside.

"You keep playing like that, and you're gonna be running this team, kid, maybe have a place on an NBA roster."

Asher just nodded, sweat dripping down his face.

"That's the plan, Coach."

After a long, intense practice, the Valley Suns players sat in the locker room, catching their breath and unwinding. The sound of tape being ripped off, showers running in the background, and the occasional joke filled the space.

Jackson Ellis was sitting on one of the benches, tying his shoes, when one of the younger guys—Jarod Lane, a Center—glanced between him and Asher.

"Yo, hold up… how do y'all know each other?" Jarod asked, pointing between the two.

Asher smirked and leaned back against his locker.

"College. We played against each other." he explained.

Jackson chuckled, shaking his head.

"Yeah, back when this dude thought he was the next CP3." he said, nudging Asher with his elbow. "I was bustin' his ass on the court, though."

Asher rolled his eyes.

"That's funny, 'cause last I checked, y'all lost that tournament game."

The guys in the locker room let out a loud "Oooooh!", hyping up the back-and-forth.

"Man, whatever" Jackson waved it off, but he was grinning.

Then, another teammate, Kent Ofaname looked at Jackson curiously.

"Aight, but what about after that? What you been up to? I know you weren't in the league the past couple years."

The energy in the room shifted slightly. Jackson stopped messing with his shoes for a moment, then shrugged.

"Yeah… I got drafted" he said casually, keeping his tone even. "Second round. Pick 47. Hawks took me in 2013."

Some guys nodded—being a second-round pick was tough. No guaranteed contracts, always having to prove yourself.

"But…?" Kent pressed, sensing there was more to the story.

Jackson exhaled through his nose, clearly not eager to get into details.

"Didn't work out." he said shortly. "They waived me. Been hoopin' overseas and grindin' ever since."

His tone made it clear that was all he was willing to share. Nobody pushed him on it, but the mood was different.

Asher glanced at Jackson, noticing how his jaw was clenched just a little tighter. He wasn't gonna say it out loud, but he knew Jackson—this wasn't just a grind for him. This was personal.

At the same time as Franklin Lincoln, before all the hype about New York basketball's next prodigy, there was Jackson Ellis.

Back in high school, Jackson wasn't just some good player—he was supposed to be one of the next great ones.

Born and raised in New York, he had the swagger, the game, and the attitude to match. Scouts filled the gyms wherever he played. He was that dude.

But things didn't go how they were supposed to.

After committing to UCLA for college, his game didn't translate as smoothly as expected. The flashy, tough New York style didn't fit the system, and soon, he went from being a projected lottery pick to barely staying on mock drafts.

Then came draft night. 47th pick. Second round. No guarantees.

By the time training camp rolled around, the Hawks weren't convinced he was worth keeping. They cut him before the season even started.

A couple of short overseas stints. No real footing. Meanwhile, Franklin Lincoln—the kid from the same city—had walked into the NBA like he owned it. Number two pick. Rookie of the Year. DPOY. MVP. Champion.

Everything Jackson never got to be.

Asher knew that had to sting.

Back in the locker room, Asher could feel the tension. Some of the guys were still looking at Jackson, waiting for him to say more.

Jackson just shook his head and went back to unwrapping his wrist tape.

Asher figured he should change the subject before things got awkward.

"Aight, enough about the past. We here now." Asher said, standing up and tossing his jersey into his locker. "Let's focus on getting this team to the top."

A few guys nodded, the conversation shifting as everyone started packing up for the day.

But as Asher slung his bag over his shoulder, he couldn't help but notice Jackson sitting there, staring at the floor.

He wasn't over it.