Booker sat on the edge of the bench in the locker room, his chest heaving as he tried to steady his breath. The arrangement of the locker room cubicles was always a silent hierarchy. The closer to the corners, the more prestigious the spot—a sanctuary of privacy and a prime location for postgame interviews. Despite being one of the team's leading scorers, Booker's relative inexperience meant his spot was still in the least desirable area.
"Nervous?"
The voice startled Booker. He looked up to see Butler, already suited up, leaning casually against the locker room doorframe with an amused smirk.
"Nervous? No way! I'm excited!" Booker shot back. He had learned quickly that Butler respected strength. Showing any sign of nerves was just asking for a cutting remark.
Butler chuckled softly and, to Booker's surprise, offered something resembling encouragement. "Relax. It's normal to feel a little dizzy before big games."
Booker blinked. Was this the Jimmy Butler? The man known for tearing into teammates and demanding toughness? Before he could react, Butler dragged a nearby stool, sat down next to him, and began speaking.
"Ever heard my story?" Butler asked, leaning forward slightly.
The stool's rightful owner, Ben, stared in bewilderment as Butler commandeered his seat. With a sigh, Ben grabbed his gear and shuffled off to change in a quieter corner.
Butler didn't wait for an answer. "When I first joined the Bulls, I was nothing. A 30th pick, no expectations. That team was stacked—Rose, Noah, Luol Deng, Gibson. I was invisible."
Booker nodded; everyone knew about the Bulls' glory days and their locker room dynamics.
"During my first team scrimmage," Butler continued, "Rose and Noah went at each other. I mean really went at it—trash-talking, pushing, shoving. It was ugly. At one point, I thought they were going to throw punches."
He waved a finger as if to emphasize his point. "But then, the second the game was over? They were planning where to eat dinner together like nothing had happened. I thought they were crazy. Schizophrenic, maybe."
Butler paused, letting the memory linger. "That's when I learned something. In this league, you've got to be tough—whether it's against your enemies or your teammates. Toughness isn't optional; it's survival."
He turned to Booker, his gaze sharp. "I push you because I want you to be better. It's not personal. I want to win, and I need teammates who can handle the grind. So toughen up, and let's win that damn championship. Got it?"
Booker nodded, startled but inspired. "I got it."
"Good." Butler stood, clapping Booker on the shoulder with surprising force. "You're already ahead of most rookies. Just stay ready and play your heart out." With that, he strode off without another word.
Ben wandered back, clearly intrigued. "What did he say to you?"
Booker hesitated, unsure how to sum up the exchange. "Uh... he encouraged me?"
Ben scoffed. "Encouraged you? That guy?"
Nearby, Rudy Gay chuckled, glancing at Butler. "Didn't know you had it in you, Jimmy. Want to trade lockers and take over my leadership duties while you're at it?"
Butler laughed. "Don't get used to it. One pep talk and I've got goosebumps. You're still the boss of the locker room, Rudy."
Their banter was cut short as Coach Malone entered, clipboard in hand. "Alright, gather around! Let's go over the plan!"
The energy in the Kings' arena was electric. The shrill buzz of alarms and high-frequency noise shook the air as the DJ's booming voice echoed from every speaker:
"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the big stage of the 2015-2016 season playoffs! ARE YOU READY?"
In the player tunnel, the Kings formed a line. At the front stood Rudy Gay, his head bowed in focus.
"Alright, guys," Gay said, his voice carrying down the tunnel. "Last year, we lost. That's fine—it was a learning experience. But lose again this year? That's on us. Play hard, and let's win this damn game!"
The DJ's voice called him out: "6 feet 8 inches tall! From the University of Connecticut! The pride of Baltimore, Maryland! Let's hear it for No. 8, RUDY GAY!"
Gay turned briefly, flashing a confident smile to his teammates before running into the spotlight. One by one, the Kings followed, running toward the blinding lights of the arena and the unknown—but tantalizing—future ahead.