The short break between quarters was a crucible of hurried adjustments and simmering frustration. The Dasmariñas starters sat on the bench, not with the dejected air of a beaten team, but with the focused, angry glare of a chess master who had just lost his queen. They weren't just losing; they were being systematically dismantled, their strengths inverted into weaknesses.
"They're making us play their game," Marco muttered, gulping down water, his eyes fixed on the impassive faces of the Imus players. "Every time we think we have an answer, they ask a different question."
"It's Quinahan," Ian stated, pounding a fist into his thigh. "He's the entire puzzle. He pulls me or Ced out of the paint, and their whole offense opens up. It feels… wrong to leave the rim that open."
"Then we make them feel wrong," Tristan said, his voice cutting through the frustration. He looked at his teammates, his gaze steady and intense. "Coach's adjustment is a gamble. It puts all the pressure on us on the perimeter. But it's the right call. We can't let them dictate our defense anymore. We have to trust the system. We have to trust each other. We fight through every screen. We stay with our man. We make their shooters feel us on every single catch. Let's go."
His words, simple and direct, were an anchor. They weren't just a team of athletes; they were a team of competitors. And they had just been challenged. As they walked back onto the court, the self-doubt was gone, replaced by a cold, unified resolve.
Across the court, the Imus High were a picture of calm confidence. Jamie Alapag gathered his team. "They're going to adjust," he said, his voice a low, steady murmur.
"They're too good not to. Expect more pressure on the perimeter. Be ready for them to fight over screens. But the core of our offense remains the same. Make them make a choice. Be patient. The right shot will appear."
Start of the Second Quarter: Dasmariñas 15 — Imus 21
Imus had the ball to start the quarter. The test of the new Dasmariñas defense came immediately.
Jamie Alapag brought the ball up, and the difference was stark. Marco was not just guarding Jeffrey Chan; he was harassing him, denying him the ball with a physicality that bordered on a foul. Aiden was doing the same to Joey Joson. The easy passes that initiated the Imus offense were gone.
Alapag, unfazed, called for Quinahan to come high. Andrew Quinahan jogged to the top of the key. Ian, following the new instructions, took two steps out of the paint, stopping at the free-throw line, his long arms raised, creating a visual deterrent. It was a zone-like principle within a man-to-man scheme. The driving lane that Quinahan had exploited before was now occupied by Ian's massive wingspan.
Seeing this, Alapag directed traffic, calling for Robin Villanueva to set a flare screen for Jeffrey Chan. Marco saw it coming.
"Screen right! Screen right!" he yelled.
Instead of trying to switch, he lowered his shoulder and fought through the screen, absorbing the hard contact from Villanueva.
He stayed attached to Chan, who caught the ball but had no room to shoot. The gym echoed with the sound of flesh on flesh. It was a statement. There would be no more easy looks.
Chan, a veteran player, didn't panic. He immediately swung the ball to Alapag, who then tried to force an entry pass to Villanueva, who had a size advantage on Cedrick. But Cedrick, no longer worried about helping on Quinahan, was able to fully commit to his own man. He used his strength to deny the post position. The pass was deflected out of bounds.
It was a stop. A messy, hard-fought, twenty-two-second possession that resulted in a turnover. The Dasmariñas bench erupted. It was a small victory, but it felt monumental.
"That's the fight!" Coach Gutierrez bellowed. "Make them earn every inch!"
Energized by their defensive success, Dasmariñas looked to score. Tristan brought the ball up and immediately looked to attack. He used a screen from Cedrick, but the Imus defense rotated with the crisp precision of a military drill. The driving lane closed. He swung the ball to Aiden, who tried to drive baseline, but was cut off. The ball moved to Marco, who was blanketed by Chan.
The Imus defense was a boa constrictor, slowly squeezing the life out of their possession. The shot clock ticked down. 8… 7… With the play broken, Tristan called for an isolation. He got the ball back at the top, twenty feet from the basket, with Jamie Alapag guarding him. It was the chess match, head-to-head.
Tristan used a hesitation dribble, then a crossover. Alapag, a master of positioning, stayed in front of him. Tristan knew he couldn't get to the rim. He had to create space. He took one hard dribble to his right, planted his foot, and rose up for his now-familiar fadeaway jumper. It was a tough, contested shot. The ball hung in the air, hit the back of the rim, and bounced out.
Robin Villanueva secured the rebound. It was a great defensive possession by Imus.
The next few minutes of the quarter were a brutal, tactical grind. The game had transformed from a high-speed shootout into a defensive street fight. Every basket was a monumental achievement.
Imus finally broke the scoring drought. Jamie Alapag, seeing that his team's fluid motion was being stymied, took control. He used a high screen from Quinahan. Ian stayed in his drop coverage. Alapag saw the space he was being given, took one more dribble, and pulled up from eighteen feet, draining the jumper before Ian could contest. It was a veteran move, taking what the defense gave him.
Score: Dasmariñas 15 — Imus 23
Dasmariñas came right back. Tristan, recognizing that their half-court sets were struggling, decided to manufacture a different kind of offense. He pushed the ball hard after the made basket, creating a semi-transition opportunity. He saw Marco sprinting to the three-point line on the right wing. Before the Imus defense could get set, Tristan fired a laser of a pass. Marco caught it and, with Jeffrey Chan flying at him, released it just in time. The shot was pure.
Score: Dasmariñas 18 — Imus 23
Marco turned to Chan as they ran back down the court. "Can't leave me open in transition. That's rule number one."
Chan just nodded, a slight smirk on his face. "My bad. Won't happen again."
The personal duels across the court intensified. On the wing, Aiden and Joey Joson were locked in a physical battle, neither giving an inch on cuts or box-outs. In the post, Cedrick and Robin Villanueva were waging a war of leverage and strength. But the most captivating battle was between the two sharpshooters.
On the next Imus possession, they ran a complex play designed specifically to free up Jeffrey Chan. It involved three consecutive off-ball screens. Marco fought through the first two, but the third, set by the immovable Quinahan, finally caught him. Chan got the ball with a foot of space. That was all he needed. He fired, and the net barely moved. Another three-pointer.
Score: Dasmariñas 18 — Imus 26
As they ran back, Chan looked over at Marco and just tapped his own chest. My turn.
The game was becoming a showcase of elite shot-making and relentless defense. The lead hovered around eight points. Imus would score a tough basket, and Dasmariñas would claw one back. But they couldn't seem to string together the stops they needed to mount a real run.
Then came the play that changed the momentum.
It started with another Imus possession. Jamie Alapag was directing traffic. He passed to Quinahan on the perimeter. Ian closed out hard, forcing Quinahan to drive. As planned, he drove right into the waiting help of Cedrick Estrella. Quinahan, a smart player, saw the trap coming and tried to dump the ball off to a cutting Villanueva.
The pass was a little behind its target. Villanueva fumbled it. The ball was loose on the floor.
What happened next was a blur of pure hustle. Three players dove for the ball: Villanueva, Alapag, and Cedrick. It was a chaotic pile of limbs and grunts. Cedrick, with a primal roar of effort, managed to get a hand on the ball and tip it out of the scrum towards the sideline, where Tristan was. Tristan scooped it up.
He had a two-on-one break with Aiden against a retreating Joey Joson. But Cedrick, after winning the loose ball, didn't stay on the floor to celebrate. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted the length of the court, a 200-pound power forward running like a gazelle. He filled the lane, turning the break into a three-on-one.
Tristan saw him. He drove at Joson, drawing the lone defender, and at the last possible second, dropped a perfect bounce pass to Cedrick, who caught it in full stride and laid it in, drawing a foul from the desperately recovering Joson.
Score: Dasmariñas 20 — Imus 26.
And-one.
The entire Dasmariñas team erupted. Ian was the first one to reach Cedrick, pulling him up from the floor and roaring in his face. Marco and Aiden swarmed him, pounding him on the back. It was more than just a basket. It was a "heart" play. It was a statement that they would not be outworked.
Cedrick stepped to the line, his chest heaving, and calmly sank the free throw.
Score: Dasmariñas 21 — Imus 26
The five-point game felt like a tie. The psychological momentum had shifted. The Imus players looked at each other, a flicker of doubt in their eyes. The Dasmariñas players were energized, their fatigue replaced by a surge of adrenaline.
They got another stop on the next possession, their revitalized defense forcing a shot clock violation.
"That's the energy!" Tristan yelled, clapping his hands. "Let's go! One more!"
He brought the ball up, and for the first time in the quarter, the Imus defense seemed a step slow, their rotations a little less crisp. Tristan saw it. He ran a pick-and-roll with Ian. Quinahan, wary of Ian rolling to the rim, sagged back. Tristan came off the screen, took one dribble, and with the confidence of a seasoned veteran, rose and drained a pull-up jumper from the free-throw line.
Score: Dasmariñas 23 — Imus 26
The lead was down to three. The gym was buzzing. The tide was turning.
Imus, to their credit, did not break. Jamie Alapag, the picture of composure, settled his team down. He called for an isolation play for himself. He patiently backed Tristan down, using his body to create space, and then spun for a tough, contested fadeaway shot that dropped softly through the net. It was a captain's response, a refusal to let the game slip away.
Score: Dasmariñas 23 — Imus 28
The final minute of the half was a furious chess match. Dasmariñas had the ball with thirty seconds left, the shot clock turned off.
Tristan held the ball at half-court, letting the clock wind down for the final shot.
10… 9… 8…
He began his move. He called for a high screen from Ian, but it was a decoy. As the defense shifted, he crossed over and drove hard to his left. He drew the help of Robin Villanueva. The entire gym expected him to shoot.
But Tristan had seen the real play develop. He saw Marco, his defender Jeffrey Chan having sagged in to help on the drive, making a subtle relocation cut from the wing to the deep corner. It was a tiny movement, a sliver of space, but to Tristan, it looked like a gaping canyon.
[Floor General] and [Dimer] activated in his mind.
With three seconds left, Tristan leaped into the air, drawing the attention of three defenders. As they rose with him, he wrapped a one-handed pass around the back of his head, a blind, audacious, pinpoint delivery that landed perfectly in Marco's shooting pocket in the corner.
Marco caught it. The buzzer was about to sound. He didn't have time to think. He just let it fly. The ball spun through the silent gym, a perfect, high arc.
Swish.
The buzzer sounded as the ball was halfway through the net.
The Dasmariñas players mobbed Marco, who was holding his follow-through, a triumphant grin plastered on his face.
Tristan just smiled, walking calmly towards the bench. He had made the right play.
End of Second Quarter: Dasmariñas 26 — Imus 28
They walked off the court for halftime, their heads held high. They were still down, but the story of the game had completely changed. They had been punched in the mouth, outsmarted, and pushed to the brink. But they had adjusted, they had fought back, and they had turned a potential blowout into a two-point dogfight.
The second half was going to be a war, and for the first time all game, the Dasmariñas High felt like they were the ones holding the bigger guns.