Los Angeles | 2009
David's POV
Some people gotta be the best at something. It's like an obsession. Me? I'm good just being... well, good. I've seen obsession up close, and honestly, it seems like a lot of work for a pretty rough payoff.
My dad used to be a rockstar at his job, some kind of financial analyst. We had a sweet four-bedroom apartment, no loans, all because he was obsessed with the stock market. Which was cool, until it wasn't. Last year, the whole market thing crashed and burned. He lost a bunch of money, then he lost his job. Now he's home a lot, which is weird. I looked at that and was like, "Nope, not for me." All that stress just to end up on the couch? No thanks. I'd rather be like my mom. She works, she comes home, she laughs. Easy.
For a long time, I was all about that easy life. Then I hit a growth spurt and shot up past everyone in my class. Mom said I should probably play a sport instead of just mainlining junk food and TV. Sounded fair.
Leo asked me to play basketball, and man, when I first started playing for real, it was awesome. I could just stand in the paint and swat shots like they were flies. It was a total power trip, you know? I got a little taste of that obsession. But then it got boring. I got way better than everyone else, and it stopped being a game and started feeling like a job. What's the fun in winning if there's no challenge? So, I just… chilled out. I went back to being the guy who knows the best place to get chili cheese fries. It was a better vibe.
Then Bradley showed up. Dude's just as obsessed as Leo, but he's different. He's not all intense about it; he's just... good. Like, scary good. And he still plays his hardest, even against guys he could beat in his sleep.
Leo roped me into playing with him, and now we have this sweet deal. Bradley gets a serious center for his practices at his crazy home court, and I get an endless supply of the best snacks. All I have to do is try a little harder. Which is fine. Trying just enough to win is still pretty chill.
So yeah, today we're playing the final group stage match of the Venice Beach tournament. And just like yesterday and the match before, I'm pretty sure we're gonna win. Easy.
…
When we walked onto the court for our final match, I was feeling pretty chill. The sun was good, the vibe was good, and we were rolling. Then I saw our opponents. And the easy-going vibe just… died.
It was Caleb, that monster center from Loyola, along with their scheming little point guard, Ricky. A new guy I didn't recognize stood with them. Their jerseys just said "Bears".
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," I muttered, stopping in my tracks. Brad and Leo both followed my gaze.
Leo just started laughing. "It's those losers from Loyola, man! What are the chances? Damn."
"I wouldn't be so overconfident if I were you, Leo," Bradley warned, his voice low and serious. "They know our plays just like we know theirs. This might turn out to be a tough match."
He was right, but I didn't have time to think about it. We had to step onto the court and line up for the jumper. As Caleb and I stood shoulder to shoulder, I could feel the heat radiating off him. He was a solid giant with bad attitude. He leaned in close.
"Yo, bitch, ready to lose today?" he growled, his eyes locked on mine. "Last time you guys got the best of me. That won't be the case today."
I just gave him a slow, casual smile. All that anger seemed like a lot of work. "We'll see about that, won't we?" I said, and then I just looked away, like he wasn't even worth my full attention. I could feel him getting angrier, but the ref was already getting ready to toss the ball.
The ref tossed the ball up. I jumped, putting every bit of my height into it, but it felt like jumping next to a brick wall. Caleb won the jumper with pure, brute strength, tipping it back to his point guard. So much for starting with the ball.
The tone for the quarter was set immediately. Liam, their shooting guard, started jawing at Leo before he'd even taken a dribble. And down in the paint, I had my own problem.
"Too slow, big man!" Caleb barked after their first basket, a tough fadeaway jumper by Ricky. "Gonna be a long day for you!"
Up top, it was a different kind of game. Ricky and Bradley weren't trash-talking. It was a silent chess match, all head fakes and lightning-fast crossovers as they tried to outmaneuver each other. But on the wings and in the paint, it was a shouting match.
I could see the Bears' strategy unfold. Liam and Ricky would both put pressure on Bradley anytime he got the ball, trying to force it out of his hands. They were basically daring me or Leo to beat them, knowing their trump card was waiting for us inside. Caleb defended against both of us, a massive presence in the paint, his eyes darting between me on the block and Leo on the wing.
Leo, being Leo, decided to test him early. He got a pass from Brad, saw a sliver of a lane, and exploded toward the rim. He went up for a layup, but Caleb just slid over and erased it, blocking the shot without even seeming to try. He grabbed the ball out of the air.
"Get that weak stuff outta here!" he roared, already looking for the outlet pass.
It was a grind. Every point we scored felt like we had to fight a war for it. I managed to get position for a rebound, but Caleb just used his body, his strength undeniable as he snatched the rebound right over me. We were getting pushed around, and Leo was getting visibly angrier with every jab from Liam. Bradley had to be the one to score for us, hitting a couple of tough, contested jumpers after their defense collapsed on him.
The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the first quarter. I looked up at the scoreboard, feeling the fatigue of the constant physical battle. This was not going to be easy.
End of First Quarter: Knights 10, Bears 12.
The second quarter was more of the same, just louder. Caleb hadn't stopped running his mouth since the first quarter, and now Liam was in Leo's ear constantly, a steady stream of trash talk that was making Leo's face get tighter and tighter.
Okay, chill time's over, I decided. I wasn't going to let them just push us around. I got the ball on the low block and made an aggressive move toward the basket. Suddenly, I was trapped. Caleb walled off my path to the rim while Ricky swiped at the ball from behind in a clear double-team.
"Nowhere to go, big man!" Caleb yelled, a smug grin on his face.
But Bradley was already cutting to the open spot. I managed to get the pass out just in time. He caught it on the right of the arc, wide open. But before he could shoot, Liam came flying across the court to cover him, leaving Leo completely unguarded on the left wing. They're leaving him open on purpose, I realized. They know about Leo's bad left-hand dribble. They're forcing us to his weak side. It was a smart, frustratingly effective strategy.
The game felt like trying to run in mud. Every basket was a battle. The fun was getting sucked out of it, replaced by a low-grade annoyance that was starting to bubble in my chest. For a second, a part of me, the part that just wanted a hot dog and a soda, started doing the math. Look, man, we've already won three games. Even if we lose this one, our point differential is probably good enough to get us into the playoffs next week. Just relax. It's just a game.
I took a breath, trying to let the frustration go. But then, with ten seconds left in the half, Brad hit me with a perfect outlet pass. I had a clear lane. It was just me and the rim. I went up for the easy layup to cut the lead.
WHAM! Caleb hit me hard from behind, a deliberate, intentional foul to stop the basket. The ref's whistle blew as I stumbled, the ball flying out of my hands.
"Not in my house!" Caleb roared.
I stepped up to the free-throw line, the jeers from their sideline buzzing in my ears. The pressure felt heavy. I bounced the ball, took a breath, and shot. The first one felt wrong the second it left my hand, clanging hard off the side of the rim. The second was even worse. The buzzer sounded for the half.
I walked toward our bench, the frustration boiling in my stomach. So much for being relaxed.
End of First Half: Knights 19, Bears 23.
We walked to our bench, out of breath and despondent. The game felt like running into a brick wall over and over again. They were dominating us, and my body ached from the constant battle with Caleb in the paint. I grabbed two bottles of water, my hands shaking slightly from exhaustion, and passed them to Brad and Leo.
Bradley took a long, slow chug from his water bottle, his eyes never leaving the court. He was analyzing, calculating. The rest of us were just trying to catch our breath.
"Okay," he said finally, his voice cutting through our tired silence. It was calm, steady, and demanded no objections. "New plan. Their interior defense is too strong. Trying to beat that grizzly at the rim is a losing game."
He looked at me, then Leo. "The next quarter, I'm shooting for three. You guys make screens to give me the open space to score. That's the only way to beat them."
When I saw the fire in his eyes—not the hot, angry fire I felt in Leo, but a cold, focused, calculating flame—I felt my own frustration begin to lessen. A wave of relief washed over me. Okay. He's got this. This was the same look he'd had in the Loyola game. This was the look he got right before he took over. Brad was here, he could easily take over just like last time, and we would win.
The third quarter started with one mission: get Bradley open. And man, did it work. I set a hard screen, Leo set another, and Bradley, playing hyperfocused, easily scored two deep three-pointers right off the bat, his form perfect, the net barely moving. The crowd on our side went wild.
Yeah, this is it, I thought, a wave of confidence washing over me. I had it right in the bag. Bradley was in the zone. Game over.
Then, everything came apart.
The Bears called a timeout. When they came back on the court, their defense had completely changed. I saw their skinny shooting guard, Liam, jog over to me. I was confused until I saw where Caleb was going. Straight to Bradley. A center guarding a point guard. It was a crazy, desperate, and brilliant move.
And the trash talk started. "Can't hide behind your big man now, pretty boy," Caleb sneered as Brad brought the ball up. "Let's see you shoot with me in your face."
Brad ignored him, trying to set up a play, but Caleb was a physical shadow, bumping him, using his size to disrupt every dribble. After Brad missed a contested jumper, Caleb got right in his face. "That's all you got, hotshot? Pathetic!"
I'd never seen Brad get rattled, but after Caleb bodied him on a screen that the ref ignored, something in him snapped. "You're just a big, overgrown grizzly," Brad shot back, his voice dangerously cold. "A big fish in a small pond. You'll mean nothing in a few years."
Meanwhile, I was having my own problems. I tried to use my size to out-manoeuvre Liam, but he was just too fast. I'd try to post him up, and he'd just slip around me, his hands a blur, sneakily stealing the ball from me twice.
The game turned into a brutal, grinding affair. Even though it was tough, we traded baskets, but we couldn't break away. Their strategy was working, and by the time the quarter ended, we were still trailing.
End of First Quarter: Knights 31, Bears 34.
We huddled up during the short break, all of us gasping for air. We were getting outplayed and outsmarted, and I knew a big part of it was my fault. I'd been coasting, letting Brad and Leo carry the weight. For the first time I felt that I didn't want to be a disappointment to them. The one holding them back. Obsession may not be what I liked but I couldn't be the one to snuff out that flame in my own teammates, my friends.
Despite my attitude Bradley never pressured me to do anything only that I continue to play with him. He and Leo always took care of things and now it was my time, I couldn't shirk that responsibility.
"Brad," I said, my voice low and serious. "I'm sorry for not focussing enough and always playing it easy." I looked him in the eye. "But seeing your tenacity, man... how hard you're fighting out there... it inspires me. I'm giving it my all this next quarter. No more chilling. I promise."
Bradley looked at me, then at Leo, and gave a single, determined nod. We were all almost out of stamina, but for the first time in the whole game, I felt like we were all truly on the same page, ready for a war.
The fourth quarter started, and something in me had shifted. The easy-going vibe was gone, replaced by a cold, hard focus. I was done being pushed around.
I demanded the ball on our first possession, got it on the low block, and for the first time all day, I didn't look to pass. I used my power and frame to push my way into the paint, backing Liam down until I was right under the rim, and scored. On the next play, I did it again.
"That's all you got?" I taunted Caleb, a fire I didn't know I had burning in my chest. "You need your little guards to help you out?"
It worked. Caleb was forced back to guard me. On the next possession, I backed him down again, feeling his immense strength pushing back. But this time, it was a setup. Just as he leaned into me, expecting the power move, I passed the ball to Leo, who was slashing through the now-open lane. He took the dribble right under the rim, and as the entire Bears defense collapsed on him, he whipped a pass to a wide-open Bradley. Swish. An easy three-pointer.
For a moment, I thought we had them. We were in control.
"That's enough of this bullshit!" Caleb roared, and the entire game changed. He started playing with a furious, reckless energy. He became a wrecking ball on offense, using his body to constantly push his way to the basket, scoring on three straight possessions. At the other end, Ricky started copying our penetrate and pass strategy, driving and kicking out to Liam, who drained a three of his own.
Suddenly, it was an assault of baskets, and our defense collapsed. We were just so tired. My legs felt like they were filled with sand. I tried to stay in front of Caleb, but his sheer physicality was overwhelming. I realized with a sinking feeling that my inner awakening had come too late. My mind was finally in the game, but my body, which I'd been fueling with junk food all summer, was hitting empty.
The only one who seemed to have anything left was Bradley. He still persevered, a look of grim determination on his face as he hit two more incredible, contested three-pointers just to keep us within striking distance.
"You're still gonna lose!" Ricky taunted, as they brought the ball up again, the clock winding down.
But for every miracle shot Brad made, they answered. The difference was too large, and our energy was gone. The final buzzer felt less like a shock and more like a mercy. We had lost. I looked up at the scoreboard, the frustration mixing with a hard-earned lesson.
Final Score: Knights 47, Bears 55
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SO there needs to be a retcon done on the story. I went back and checked the wiki of Modern Family and I found that Alex is in fact January 1997 born based on the graduation dates from junior high and High School. The wiki of modern family had the incorrect information and that has now been corrected. I will be fixing that error in future chapters and rework it in the previous ones as well. Its my mistake for not researching thoroughly, I apologise to you all dear readers. If you guys could leave chapter comments on whenever the discussion of the age gap between Brad and Alex comes up in the story it would help me to rectify the mistake faster. Hope you enjoyed the chapter.
Drop some powerstones for my motivation will ya. Also a review or two would be great boost to morale.