📅 November 12, 2024 – Kia Center, Orlando
The gym didn't feel heavier. Just louder.
Second home game. Second time walking through the tunnel with his warmup hoodie still pulled low. No conversations. No expectations. But when Zoran stepped onto the floor for pregame, there were already fans in their seats. Some had signs. A few even had his name written across printer paper, one spelled Zorun with a backwards "N." He didn't acknowledge it. But he saw it.
Coach Mosley called his name early in the first quarter.
"Zoran, you're in."
No one looked up.
No one said "go get it" or slapped his back. Which was fine. It made sense. The roster was still learning who he was. And tonight wasn't Milwaukee. It was Washington. A weaker opponent. Less noise. Less pressure.
Still basketball.
The Wizards had no defensive shell. Zoran slipped behind screens easily. First shot—one-dribble pull-up from the elbow. Clean. Later in the second quarter, Suggs overpenetrated, dumped it late, and Zoran hit a high glass finish before the shot clock. He didn't smile. Just ran back.
Minutes stayed light. He rotated with Anthony Black. Made quick reads. Nothing that broke the game open, but everything that kept the rhythm. His stat line at the horn:14 points. 5 assists. 2 steals. 22 minutes. 6-for-10. Plus-10.
The Magic won, 107–94. Banchero scored 27. Franz had 19. Mosley barely looked his way in the huddle, but didn't sub him out after a defensive mistake in the third. That said something.
Reporters came in late. Only two stopped at his locker.
One leaned in. "You think you've done enough to stay in the rotation?"
Zoran tied his shoe without looking up."If I have to answer that out loud, then probably not."
He didn't say anything else.
But the broadcast did.
Third quarter. Zoran rotated early, picked off a lazy swing pass from Jordan Poole, and ran it up the left side. No celebration. No head tap. Just the same unreadable face.
That's when the color guy on the mic said it.
"That's Vranes again. Doesn't force shots. Doesn't flinch. He just... shows up. Every game. Same pace. Same face. He's the constant out there."
No one reacted right away. But by the next timeout, Suggs cracked a grin at the bench.
"Yo, they're callin' you The Constant now?"
Zoran just took the water bottle. No reply. But he didn't correct him either.
After the game, he didn't repost anything. He barely opened Instagram. He went straight to the team-provided film cutups and loaded only his minutes.
Notes he typed into his phone afterward:
Takes too long to reset feet on kick-outs.
Didn't read the corner tag early enough.
Need more strength to finish through body.
He turned his screen off. Didn't journal tonight. Just stared out the window of his hotel room for five quiet minutes, then went to sleep.
He didn't feel like he'd arrived.
Only like he hadn't left.
Tomorrow was Boston.
No signs. No smiles. Just switches. Just tests.
And Zoran wouldn't ask for anything else.