CHAPTER 87: CHAPTER 87 :MECCA OF STREETBALL

Nearly 1 a.m., Ryan’s phone lit up—an unknown number.

He frowned. Who the hell was calling at this hour?

Still, if someone had his private number, it wasn’t a random nobody.

He picked up. "Yo, who’s this?"

"K-Vibe," the voice crackled.

Ryan sat up slightly. "What’s up?"

"Remember the Name is done. Mixed, mastered, ready."

"Already?" Ryan’s eyes widened. "That was quick."

"Man, it’s been ten days," K-Vibe said, like that was forever.

"So when’s it dropping?"

"Gotta shoot the MV first. That’s why I’m calling—I want you in it."

Ryan grinned, instantly hooked. "Hell yeah. When?"

"Monday work? I’m rushing the rollout"

"Iron City?" Ryan asked.

"Nah, Orvara City."

Orvara? Wild.

Ryan’s mind raced. "I got a game Sunday, and we’re at Orvara Eclipse Wednesday. Monday’s practice day."

"I know your schedule," K-Vibe said. "That’s why I picked Monday. Ask the team for a day off—then fly out early. I really need to get this done."

Ryan hesitated. Skipping a practice wasn’t ideal. But a music video? For this song? It was gonna blow up. He could already picture the momentum it’d bring.

"I’ll talk to Coach tomorrow. No promises he’ll go for it."

"Do your thing. Charm him."

Ryan smirked. "Who else you got? Hardell?"

"Nah, he’s got a game Tuesday."

Ryan snorted. "That’s not the real reason."

Given how tight K-Vibe and Hardell were, Ryan knew damn well if he really wanted Hardell in, he’d have made it happen, or picked a different time.

K-Vibe laughed. "Okay, okay. You got me. Truth is, Hardell’s too polished. Too ABA. This video’s about streetball."

Ryan chuckled. "Hey, I’m ABA too."

"Yeah, but you got discovered on a street court by Coach Crawford. Plus, you co-wrote the damn song. You’re perfect for this."

Ryan shrugged. "Can’t argue with that. So it’s being shot on a street court?"

"Of course. That’s why I picked Orvara—we’re filming at Carver Park."

"Carver Park?" Ryan’s tone turned curious.

"Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you don’t know Carver Park," K-Vibe groaned.

"...I actually haven’t." Ryan admitted.

"Man, it’s the mecca of streetball! Countless ABA cats balled there. Look it up online."

"Alright, alright." Ryan said.

"Soon as you talk to your coach, hit me back right away—I need to lock this in fast. No delays, alright? Get some rest, star."

"Got it," Ryan said, then hung up.

He immediately typed "Carver Park" into his browser.

Images, articles, videos flooded in.

Carver Park... it was this world’s version of Rucker Park.

Back home, Rucker Park stood in Harlem, Manhattan, New York—a place sacred to streetball fans. The streetball stage that birthed legends. For pros, there was the NBA. But for the underground kings? It was Rucker.

Countless streetball legends were born on that court.

Some even made the leap to the NBA—like Rafer "Skip to My Lou" Alston and Stephon Marbury.

Ryan had never been there in his past life. Only seen the clips. Kobe and KD dropping jaws in the summer runs—he’d watched those highlights over and over.

In this world, Carver Park carried that same aura. A proving ground. A battleground. A birthplace.

Some ABA pros had come from there too. The most famous?

Ten-time All-Star. Former scoring champ.

Cameron Anderson.

The same masked man he’d gone one-on-one with just weeks ago.

Ryan leaned back, thoughts spinning.

No wonder his bag was so deep.

He was built from the streets.

——

Saturday Morning — Roarers Training Center

Practice had just wrapped when Ryan finally worked up the nerve. He walked over to Coach Crawford, bracing himself.

"Coach, I was hoping to get Monday off," he said.

Crawford glanced at him. "Why?"

Ryan scratched the back of his neck. "Uh... a rapper friend of mine is dropping a single. He asked me to be in the music video. It’s shooting at Carver Park."

"Carver Park?" Crawford raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Since we’re playing in Orvara on Wednesday, I figured I could fly out a day early. Link up with the team on Tuesday."

The Roarers were scheduled to fly to Orvara Tuesday morning. Crawford stared at Ryan, unreadable. For a second, Ryan considered backtracking—maybe this wasn’t worth it.

But then Crawford spoke. "Fine."

Ryan blinked. That easy?

"Stay safe," Crawford added. "And if you’re hooping out there, don’t get banged up."

"Just the MV, Coach," Ryan assured him.

Crawford gave a small nod and walked off without another word.

Ryan watched him go, eyebrows raised. That... was surprisingly easy.

This hard-ass coach, letting me off with one sentence?

What he didn’t know was that Crawford wasn’t usually this lenient—especially not for side gigs. Most players wouldn’t have gotten more than a hard no and a lecture. But Ryan wasn’t "most players."

Crawford owed Ryan.

When he’d pushed GM Buth to sign him, it was to a measly one-year, 300K non-guaranteed rookie deal. Same kind of contract the Garbage Time Big Four. Look at them: water bottles and towels were their highlight reels. Garbage time was their kingdom.

But Ryan? He was a starter, averaging over 20 a game. On any other team, he’d easily be pulling an eight-figure salary. Forget max deals—just look at elite rookie contracts. Frye had shattered records with his four-year, $50 million deal. Even setting him aside, guys like Amin and Eddey—Ryan’s teammates from the Rising Stars Challenge—were signing for around $20 million over four years.

The problem? Ryan’s short-term contract didn’t allow for early extension. If he got frustrated in Roarers, he could leave next season.

Buth and Crawford knew that. They’d already agreed: keep him happy. So when he asked for a day off—his first ever—it was an easy yes.

Once Crawford was out of sight, Ryan pulled out his phone and dialed.

"It’s a go," he told K-Vibe.

K-Vibe practically shouted through the line. "Let’s go! Book an early flight Monday—I’ll pick you up. No appearance fee, by the way. Friend deal. But I’m covering flights and all expenses."

"Cool with me," Ryan said. "I’ll text you the flight details once I book."