He doesn't like my art

All my life, all I've ever wanted was to draw.
It was my breath of air, the only way I could show others what the world looked like in my eyes.
And I was really good at it, too. It's not like I'm bragging or anything, but the look on their faces when they saw what I created was always the same. Mouth slightly opened, eyes following the curvy lines with amazement, the slow shaking of their heads as they can't understand how I've done it... it was all the same.
No matter where I've been, my art has been appreciated to the point I've even sold some pieces. I was said to have no competition. Nobody could reach my level. And everybody loved what I made.
...
Until one day, when the basketball team's leader, or how I like to call him, the lion king, comes and looks at the drawing I'm most proud of.
And he wrinkles his nose.
And he shakes his head.
And he says he doesn't like it.
...
So it was only obvious that a war ought to begin.