165 Halftime
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~~~(POV: Ulysses Kennedy)~~~
~~~(Date: October 22nd, 2026)~~~
~~~(Location: Madison Square Garden, New York)~~~
~~~(Time: 5:03 PM)~~~
As we enter our locker room, I can sense and see the absolute destruction the Bull's scoring run had on our team. Now I know how much they'll lose by without me from a middle-of-the-pack Eastern Conference team.
Barrett and Brunson are gassed since they had to compensate for the minutes I was benched. Jericho and Robinson are slumped in their chairs and downing Gatorade.
Tom is pacing back and forth in the locker room. We're all in our seats as he's individually looking at each player. Including me. He's frustrated. At us. At the refs. At the Bulls. There are many things stacking up for the coach, and I think he's about to blow.
"I want all of you to know that there is plenty of blame to go around. I should've anticipated the reaction the Bulls had to Ulysses being benched. That's on me. I underestimated them."
You know it's never going to be a good time when the coach starts with his own falls at halftime. I can only guess what he'll start getting into now. But his eyes turn toward me, and I can see I'm about to be his first victim.
I don't mind. I have blame to carry in this too. Even though the fouls that were called on me were bogus, that doesn't mean I still don't have the fouls. I should've stopped picking them up after the first one. I should've adapted faster.
Instead, I pushed my luck and ended up picking up 3 fouls before the ending of the first quarter.
"Ulysses should've stopped getting fouls. He's smart enough to know that after the first one being shit. The refs were against him. Instead, he kept pushing and picked up 3 before the second quarter."
There is silence as the aggressive undertone of Tom is sinking in. Most players aren't and won't be intimidated by Tom. However, that doesn't make his message any less valuable.
"Barrett and Brunson. Where do I even start? You're constant jacking of bad 3-pointers to try and keep up with the Bulls has cost us an almost 20-point deficit. Not to mention your lack of passing. We'll be having more words after the game."
Tom is getting his critiques in with everyone. It's a good sign, in my opinion. He can't always be a friendly coach. He needs to show that he's the one that makes the final decision about who plays, what minutes players get, and moving up or down in the rotation.
Tom continues his words, and this goes on for about half of the time we have during halftime. After that, he brings out a whiteboard and starts to draw up some new plays. I can see my name on the board, and that means I'm coming out in the third quarter.
It's time that I stopped holding back and started to unleash what's really beneath the surface. They don't call me The Singularity for nothing.
~~~(POV: Ellie)~~~
~~~(Date: October 22nd, 2026)~~~
~~~(Location: Madison Square Garden, New York)~~~
~~~(Time: 5:16 PM)~~~
"AAAAAAAL RIIIIIIIIGHT KNICKS FANS!! LET'S SHOW OUR PLAYERS SOME FIRE OUT HERE!!!"
The Arena announcer is getting the crowd hyped back up, and as the teams start making their way back onto the court. I can see Ulysses is ready for battle. I know my son, and I know when he changes in the slightest of ways.
Many wouldn't see a difference looking at him. But I do. He'll unleash what he's always got under control.
"I don't know if your son can overcome this lead the Bulls have. But regardless. I'm looking forward to seeing it."
The woman that asked me if her son could have Ulysses's game shoes starts to talk. But she doesn't understand. Not yet. When her kid gets older and becomes his own man. She'll see the changes he goes through.
The Knicks inbound the ball to Ulysses, and he brings it down the court. He's immediately double-teamed as he approaches the 3-point line. But instead of passing it out. It splits his defenders and elevates. Hitting a 3-pointer.
The roaring of the crowd does nothing for my son. His face remains calm and balanced. A sense of neutrality as he focuses. The NBA analysts will see this game and the ones with a trained eye. They'll see the real Ulysses.
