Madrid, Spain – Late February 2015
The gym was cold.
Not broken. Just early.
Eli Mercer stood alone at the free throw line.
Ball in hand.
Eyes closed.
Inhale.
Hold.
Exhale.
Bounce.
Catch.
Lift.
Swish.
He didn't count makes.
He counted breath.
Later That Morning – School
Spanish. Math. History.
Eli sat in the back.
Took notes.
Breathed.
He didn't yawn.
Didn't snack.
Didn't fade.
No one noticed.
Except her.
She leaned over during break.
"You never eat."
Eli smiled.
"I'm full."
She didn't ask again.
Afternoon Practice – No Luis
Spacing was off.
Voices clashed.
Too many captains.
Eli didn't speak.
He moved.
Cut early.
Passed late.
Rotated first.
The others followed.
Not because he told them.
Because he showed them.
Evening – Recovery Room
Eli sat in the ice tub.
Breath steady.
Eyes closed.
Luis limped in, crutches clicking.
"You're different now."
Eli opened one eye.
"No. Just quieter."
Luis smiled.
"They're listening."
Eli didn't answer.
He just breathed.
Midnight – Private Gym Entry
Lights off.
No staff.
Just silence.
Eli walked the court.
Touched every line.
Every arc.
Every zone.
Then began.
Shooting Circuit
36 zones
50 makes per zone
No rebounder
No reset allowed
Handle Flow
Fingertip taps
Wall passes
Blind dribbles
Breath-synced ladder
Free Throws
25 makes
Eyes closed
Bounce → breath → lift → swish
Advance Drills (Hidden)
Micro-lift burst
Low-rim contact finish
Intercept timing
Logged in "B-Side" journal
Next Morning – Tournament Game vs. Oslo North
Eli didn't warm up with dunks.
He shot from the elbow.
Then the corner.
Then the logo.
Swish.
Swish.
Swish.
The crowd was louder now.
Signs in the stands:
#TheMap
Captain Without Words
100%
Eli didn't look.
He just bounced the ball.
Once.
Twice.
Game time.