Madrid, Spain – 2014 – Age 15
Eli Mercer stepped off the plane with a backpack, a duffel, and a quiet smile.
He wasn't nervous. He wasn't overwhelmed.
He was ready.
Coach Ortega met him at the gate.
"You're younger than I expected."
Eli shrugged.
"I grow fast."
They laughed. The van ride was quiet, but not tense. Eli asked questions. Ortega answered. By the time they reached the facility, Eli already knew the names of his teammates, the practice schedule, and where the best food was.
Practice Facility – Madrid Juniors
The gym was bright, clean, and loud.
Players joked, stretched, passed balls around.
Eli joined them. No aura. No mystique. Just a kid with a tight handle and a calm smile.
Luis, the team captain, tossed him a ball.
"You're American, right?"
"Georgia."
"You play like you're from New York."
Eli grinned.
"I just play."
First Scrimmage – Internal Tryout
Coach blew the whistle.
Eli started at point guard.
First possession—he called out a play. Loud. Clear.
Second possession—he hit a no-look pass. Luis finished.
Third possession—he pulled up from deep. Net.
Teammates started nodding.
Not because he was flashy.
Because he was consistent.
Locker Room – Post-Scrimmage
Luis sat next to him.
"You're quiet, but not weird quiet."
Eli laughed.
"I just don't waste words."
"You're starting tomorrow."
Eli nodded.
"Cool."
Game Day – Madrid Juniors vs. Valencia
Crowd: 3,000.
Noise: steady.
Eli: focused.
He high-fived teammates.
Smiled at the ball boy.
Winked at the assistant coach.
First possession—he walked it up.
Crossover.
Split.
Layup.
Second possession—trap defense.
He paused.
Passed behind his head.
Luis dunked.
Third possession—fast break.
He glided.
Pull-up three.
Net.
Timeout.
Valencia coach screamed.
Madrid bench erupted.
Eli fist-bumped Luis.
Sat down.
Sipped water.
Post-Game – 18 points, 9 assists, 3 steals
Reporters waited.
Coach Ortega gestured.
"They want a quote."
Eli stepped forward.
"I'm just here to play. That's it."
Then smiled and walked off.