The SUV slows to a stop, and I can already see the wall of cameras lined up outside Crypto.com Arena, like they were waiting just for me. This was my first game since the incident a few nights ago.
The second I stepped out, the flashes start going off like crazy. My security guy motions me to follow him, but the crowd isn't making this easy. They're louder tonight, bolder too, calling my name like they're trying to get me to stop and explain everything right here, right now.
"Bronny, is it true you're expecting two babies with two different women??"
"Bronny, what happened between you and Taylor the other night??"
"Bronny! Any comment on the paternity scandal??"
I tighten my jaw, looking down to avoid making eye contact. I felt them closing in on both sides, pushing their mics in my face. My security starts guiding me forward, clearing the path one shove at a time.
"Bronny! Was it an accident? Did you even know??"
The questions just kept coming, each one sharper than the last. I kept my head down and pushed through the arena doors. The noise was insane, and all I wanted to do was to get inside and away from it. The doors swung open, and we stepped in. Silence. The only noise inside was the faint echos from the court, and I could breathe again.
I exhale hard, trying to clear my head. It's game night. I should be thinking about winning against the Memphis Grizzlies, and playing my best. But right now, all I could think about is the weight of those questions, following me even in here.
•••
As soon as I stepped into the locker room, I saw my dad standing at his locker getting dressed for the game. He turned and saw me. He looked calm, at least for right now.
"Bronny." he says, his voice low and steady. "How you holding up?"
I drop my bag onto the bench and sat down, feeling the tension from outside starting to ease up.
"I'm good." I say, forcing a shrug. "Just... a lot, you know?"
He nods, coming over to sit beside me. "You don't have to tell me. The media's been all over this, talking like they know everything. You handled it well, though, when we talked about it the other day."
I run a hand over my face, feeling the weight of the last few days catching up with me. "Yeah. I just keep thinking about Sophia, how she's dealing with all this. She didn't ask for it."
Dad gave me a sympathetic look, patting my shoulder. "You've gotta keep your focus here, Bronny. Don't let them get to you. Once you're out there, just play the game. Everything else can wait."
"I know." I said quietly, nodding. "Just going to block it out."
He gives me a small smile. "You'll be alright, son. Go show them why you're here."
I nodded, feeling the pressure in my chest start to lighten. I know he's right; the game is the only thing I can control tonight. Everything else... I'll deal with it later.
•••
Stepping onto the court for warm-ups, I feel the energy buzzing through the arena, the fans settling in, filling the seats. I grab a ball, dribbling to the basket, trying to find my rhythm, to let everything else fade. Just me, the ball, the hoop—that's all I need to focus on.
"Hi, Bronny!" a little kid calls from the stands, waving. I give a small wave back, grateful to be here, doing what I love. I go through the shooting drills, my body loosening up, the tension slipping away as the ball swishes through the hoop again and again.
Coach Redick walks over, watching me take a few more shots.
"Everything okay, son?" he asks, a touch of concern in his voice.
"Yeah, Coach." I say, giving him a quick nod. "Just ready to play."
He studies me for a second, then nods, patting me on the back. "Good. Just focus on the game. Forget everything else."
I nodded, feeling the energy settle inside me. I made my way over to the bench since I was sitting out for the first quarter. As I watch my teammates, my foot taps against the floor, my mind racing, but I push it all away, forcing myself to focus on each play, each move. My turn will come soon.
The second quarter starts, and I'm back on the court. The energy from the fans was wild tonight, every cheer and shout echoing through me as I push myself up and down the court, passing and shooting.
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But then, as I'm catching my breath after a play, a loud voice from the sidelines broke through the crowd noise, aiming straight at me.
"Hey, James! Couldn't keep it in your pants, huh?"
I grind my teeth, ignoring it. Just keep moving, let it go.
But he keeps going. "What's it like to have baby mama drama only a year after your rookie season?"
I take a deep breath, staying focused. But he's louder now, practically shouting, like he wants everyone around him to hear.
"Better hope your little side piece knows what she signed up for!"
That's it. I was trying to stay calm but once I heard him refer to Sophia as a 'side piece', I completely lost it.
My heart pounded as I turned and spotted the guy sitting court side. Without thinking, I walked over to him, grabbed him by his shirt in my fists and pulled him close so he can see the anger in my eyes.
"Watch. Your. F*cking. Mouth." I say, my voice low and firm.
He stared at me, his face going pale as he stutters, "Hey, man, it's just a joke! Chill out!"
Before I could even think of what to say next, I heard the refs blow their whistle and I could feel hands pulling me back.
"Bronny!" My dad's voice cuts through the haze, his grip firm on my arm. "Let him go."
I unclench my fists, stepping back as the guy straightens his shirt, trying to act tough even though he's the one who looked terrified. Security escorts him out, and he doesn't look back.
But the damage is done. I see the ref making his way over, his expression stern as he points towards the locker room.
"James, you're out!" he says, his voice echoing across the court.
The crowd reacts, a mix of shock and confusion, and all I could do is nod, feeling the heat drain out of me as I turn and walked off the court. I don't look at the fans, don't make eye contact with my teammates. All I could think about is what just happened, and the realization that I lost control at the worst possible time.
