God of basketball

Previously

…He’d lie awake at night, replaying every missed shot, every fumbled pass, every moment of doubt. He wondered if he’d ever feel that effortless flow again, that certainty that the ball would find its way home. The joy, once so vibrant and intoxicating, now felt like a distant memory. He was a God of basketball, they said. But right now, he felt more like a fallen angel, grounded and earthbound. The pressure had become a suffocating blanket, and the love for the game, that pure, unadulterated spark, seemed to be flickering, threatening to extinguish altogether. He needed a change, a shift, something to shake him out of this suffocating slump. He just didn't know what, or where to find it.