Chapter 46: Self-esteem Issues

Wilt PoV

I smiled as Sylvester made a three pointer.

"See? You could do it," I said, grinning. "You just needed some confidence."

Sylvester sighed. "What if it was a fluke?"

I put a hand on his shoulder. "What did I just say? You need confidence in yourself, bud! If even you don't trust in yourself, how can you expect those two jerks to believe in you?"

He sighed. "You got a point." His green eyes looked up at me. "Why do you believe in me?"

I hummed. "Because I've seen how hard you work," I replied, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Despite lacking the constitution, you kept going with the tryouts where guys with better stamina gave up. Your determination will carry you far."

He looked down, his fingers idly spinning the basketball in his hands. "You think so?"

"I know so," I said confidently. "You've got potential, Sylvester. And yeah, maybe you're still a little rough around the edges, but that's why we train, right? To get better."

I could see him chewing on his lower lip, a sure sign he was deep in thought. I gave him a moment before adding, "And besides, someone once told me that it's not the skill that makes a good player. It's the heart."

He glanced up at me. "Who told you that?"

I grinned. "Some old wise man. He also said that the point of playing isn't just to win. It's to have fun."

Sylvester laughed, a genuine, warm sound that echoed around the empty gym. "Sounds like a smart guy."

"Yeah," I said, chuckling. "Dad taught me everything I know. Too bad he didn't get to play basketball in his last years in college."

Sylvester's eyes widened in surprise. "Your dad played college basketball?"

I nodded, a warm sense of pride filling my chest. "Yeah, he was one of the best in his time. He had to stop playing in his last years due to an injury, but he never let that stop him from enjoying the game." Just like I wouldn't let mine stop me!

His expression softened. "I'm sorry about your dad, Wilt. It must've been hard for him."

I shrugged, kicking at an invisible pebble on the gym floor. "Maybe. But he never showed it. He always said that life was too short to dwell on the 'what ifs'. Instead, he focused on sharing his love for the game with me."

We fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound the echo of our breathing and the soft thump of the basketball hitting the floor.

I glanced at Sylvester again, seeing a new determination in his eyes. "You know, Sylvester," I began, "my dad once told me that everyone has their own battles to fight. Everyone has their own dreams to chase. It doesn't matter how big or small they are."

He looked at me, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "Sounds like you're lucky to have a great dad."

I laughed. "He is a bit on the cold side. Super stoic business man, but when he starts talking about basketball, that chilly façade drops. That's why I'm thankful for the sport. It allowed me to see a side of my dad that I might not have gotten to see."

He smiled. "How nice."

It hit me that he probably didn't have the best relationship with his own dad, else, why would he say he was lucky with that tone?

"Sylvester," I began, my voice cautious, "how about your family?"

His grip on the basketball tightened slightly, his gaze dropping. "There's not much to say, really."

I watched him, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, I prompted gently, "No siblings? Parents?"

He shrugged weakly. "I have a family. It's just... complicated."

I nodded, understanding. We all had our own issues, our own private battles. "I get it. You don't have to share if you don't want to."

He gave me a small smile, a silent thank you. "I appreciate that, Wilt."

We let the conversation drop, falling back into comfortable silence as we continued our practice. But as we kept practicing our shots, I couldn't shake off the thought of Sylvester's cryptic response.

I knew he wasn't the most open, but I worried about him. His parents could be behind his low self-esteem. It was clear that there were things he was dealing with that he wasn't ready to share, and while I respected his decision, I couldn't help but worry.

Finally, I broke the silence. "Hey, Sylvester," I began, choosing my words carefully. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I mean, we're friends. That's what friends do."

He glanced at me, surprise flickering in his eyes before he quickly masked it with a small smile. "I know, Wilt. And I appreciate it. Really, I do."

I returned his smile, hoping to convey my sincerity. "Good. Just remember, you're not alone. You've got me and Natasha."

He nodded, his smile growing a little. "Thanks, Wilt. That means a lot."

We fell back into silence, but it was a more comfortable one this time. As we continued our practice, I made a silent promise to myself to be there for Sylvester, to provide a listening ear or a comforting word whenever he needed it. After all, that's what friends did. They supported each other, no matter what.

As the evening wore on, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Sylvester was improving, slowly but surely, and I was proud to be a part of his journey. He had a long way to go, but I wasn't gonna let him give up on himself.

And as for Sylvester, I had a feeling that he would surprise us all. After all, it wasn't just skill that made a good player. It was the heart. And Sylvester had plenty of that.

The coach, with Natasha by his side, called us over. His stern expression told us this wasn't the end of practice, far from it.

"Laps," he ordered, pointing towards the school's track field outside. "And I don't want any half-hearted jogging. Give it your all."

Sylvester sighed.

I patted his back. "Come on, let's give it our all. Remember what I said?"

He smiled slightly and nodded.