The second quarter started with Miami turning up the pressure.
The moment Zoran touched the ball, he felt it—Caleb Martin was glued to him like Velcro. No room to breathe. And when he came off a down screen from Powell, Bam Adebayo switched onto him instantly.
That's when it hit him.
They weren't treating him like a rookie anymore. They were treating him like a threat.
Most players might've forced it. Let their pride speak louder than their patience.
Zoran stayed quiet. Let the game come to him.
He slipped a pass to Powell on a dive cut that drew oohs from the sideline. Next play, he pump-faked Caleb out of his shoes and took one hard dribble before kicking it to Klay for a catch-and-shoot three.
Bang.
The Mavericks' bench jumped up. Zoran just backpedaled, calm. No flex. No celebration. Just acknowledgment. Just the right play.
6:13 left in Q2 — MIA 38, DAL 36
Dinwiddie brought it up. Zoran curled off a double screen set by Naji and Powell, caught the ball with momentum, rose up from mid-range.
Net.
His seventh point.
That pull-up jumper wasn't fancy. No side-step, no fade. Just clean mechanics and confidence.
He wasn't here to be flashy.
He was here to be efficient.
The Heat fired back. Duncan Robinson got hot, hitting two threes off off-ball motion. Then Jaquez bullied his way into the paint, drawing a foul on Naji.
Timeout Dallas.
In the huddle, Jason Kidd pointed at Zoran.
"You're reading the floor right. Keep making them shift. They don't want to chase you for 48 minutes."
Zoran nodded once. He didn't speak. Didn't need to.
He knew what he was doing.
Halftime: MIA 52, DAL 49
Zoran's stat line:
9 points
3 assists
2 rebounds
1 steal
4/6 shooting
He sat on the bench, towel over his shoulders, staring at the floor. Not out of frustration—but focus. He was running every possession through his head. What he saw. What he felt. Where Bam hedged too far. Where Martin got caught on a screen. Where Lowry was baiting for a pass that never came.
Basketball was a rhythm.
And Zoran was starting to feel it in his bones.
Third Quarter
Jason Kidd kept him in the starting lineup.
He opened with a bang—literally.
First possession of the second half, Klay swung it his way with the shot clock winding down. Zoran took a jab step, noticed Martin leaning, and pulled from deep.
Splash.
The arena buzzed. Even Jimmy Butler, arms crossed at the end of the Heat bench, raised an eyebrow.
Zoran didn't look at him.
Next time down, he drew Bam off a switch again. But instead of attacking, he hit Washington flashing under the rim for the assist.
Adebayo pounded the floor.
Zoran jogged back.
Still expressionless. Still locked in.
Miami clawed back behind Lowry's savvy and Duncan's flamethrower shooting. But the Mavs were holding steady, and Zoran?
He was in full control.
Late in the quarter, he finally got a mismatch he liked—Duncan Robinson on an island.
One dribble, two dribbles. He backed out. Measured him. Cross, cross, snatch back.
Robinson blinked.
Zoran rose up.
Three more.
That was 15.
End of the third: DAL 76, MIA 74
The Mavericks had taken the lead.
Klay walked past him on the bench. "You keep hitting shots like that, you're gonna get Jimmy to suit up."
Zoran cracked the faintest smile.
Then it was gone.
Zoran Vranes — End of Q3 Box Score:
Points: 15
Assists: 4
Rebounds: 3
Steals: 1
FG: 6/9
3PT: 3/4
+/-: +8