Los Angeles | 2009
Bradley's POV
Friday went by in a lull of rest and relaxation. We had all agreed: even if we felt unprepared, we would leave that day to recuperate. The risk of injury or exhaustion was too great. Today was Saturday. Today was the playoffs.
We were set to face the winner of Group A, a team called the Cheetahs who, like us, had won three games in the group stage. The only undefeated team was the Bears, who had won all four. They were on the other side of the bracket. If we both handled our business today, we would get our day in the sun with them in the finals. I intended to handle our business.
My family was here to watch, a welcome presence in the small crowd. Alex couldn't be here today, but she would be there tomorrow. She'd texted me this morning: You've got this. No question. The confidence she had in me bolstered my own. I gave my family a quick wave and then walked onto the court, the worn asphalt familiar under my sneakers. Our Knights blue against the yellow of the Cheetahs. I huddled up with Leo and David.
"Alright, we gotta make fast work of them and conserve energy," I said, my voice low and focused. "No high-intensity plays, just simple passing and creating space to win. We will not use any of our new tricks and moves today. That's for tomorrow." I looked them both in the eye. "We win, and we make it look normal. No dominating them. We don't show the Bears our whole playbook before the final. Understood?"
They both nodded, their expressions serious and determined. We broke the huddle and got ready for the jump ball.
The ref tossed the ball high against the bright blue sky. As expected, David won the jumpball, his long arm tipping it cleanly towards Leo, who was already exploding forward. He caught it in stride, a blur of motion on a one-man fastbreak, and easily scored the first basket of the game with a smooth layup.
The Cheetahs were an all-African American team, and they were big. All three of their players were taller than me and Leo, though none could match David's sheer height. Their game plan became obvious on their first possession. Their playstyle revolved around standing near the basket and scoring easily, slowing the game down and using their size to their advantage. They worked the ball inside to their center, who backed his way into the paint and scored a tough hook shot over Leo.
But I felt something different today. Last week, my legs had felt like lead in the final quarter. Today, after a week of my dad's grueling training, I felt light, explosive. I could see the same was true for Leo and David; we weren't getting tired or worn out.
"Push it!" I yelled after we secured the rebound from their next shot.
We used our new conditioning to our advantage. We started constantly passing and forcing the other team to exhaust themselves by chasing the ball. We were a blur of motion, whipping the ball from side to side. The Cheetahs' solid defense couldn't keep up with our speed. A quick pass from me to Leo, then a touch-pass to David cutting to the basket, resulted in an easy score for our center.
They were slower than us, and I started to anticipate their plays. I saw their point guard telegraph a lazy pass to the wing. I jumped the lane, stole the ball, and took off. I beat everyone down the court for a fast break layup.
The first half continued in that rhythm. They would score with their size, and we would answer with our speed. David was a monster on the boards, grabbing rebounds and firing outlet passes. Leo was a constant threat, his quick cuts to the basket resulting in two more easy layups off my assists. I controlled the tempo, hitting a three-pointer when they gave me space and getting another steal that I converted into a basket myself. We were running them ragged, and you could see the frustration on their faces.
With a minute left, they managed to hit a three-pointer to take the lead for the first time, a desperate shot that found its way in.
I took the ball, my expression calm. There was no panic. I brought it up the court, waved for a screen from David, and as the defense shifted, I rose up and drained a three-pointer of my own to take the lead right back.
On their final possession, I saw their guard get careless with his dribble. I lunged, poking the ball loose. It bounced toward half-court, and I sprinted after it, scooping it up just as the buzzer sounded and laying it in for a final, emphatic score.
The ref signaled the end of the half. We walked to the bench, not with the exhaustion of last week, but with the cool, confident energy of a team that knew its plan was working perfectly.
End of First Half: Knights 24, Cheetahs 20
All of us chugged some water, wiping our faces to remove the sweat and the grime of the court. The adrenaline from the win was still humming in my veins.
"It worked, dude. We definitely got stronger," Leo said, his voice brimming with confidence as he paced in front of the bench.
"Yes, it worked, but don't get complacent now," David cautioned, his voice low and serious. "We have to focus on the end goal."
"He is right, Leo. We need to be cool," I affirmed, leaning back and stretching my aching legs.
"I know, I know, but you guys can't really say that you don't feel the excitement in your bones too," Leo shot back, his eyes alight with a fiery energy. "Facing those assholes tomorrow and watching them go down... just the thought of it makes me wanna jump."
"I know, and I am excited," I added, "but it's tempered by our humbling experience last week."
"Sure, you could be, but look at the grin spreading over junkie there," Leo pointed towards David, who had a wide, irrepressible smile on his face. It seemed Leo's words had pulled him in.
I smiled and patted both their shoulders. "Let's go," I said, pushing myself to my feet. "We still got a job to do."
The Cheetahs came out of the halftime break re-energized, scoring on their first possession with a powerful post-move from their center. But I wasn't worried. The plan was working.
For the rest of the third quarter, we made them run. We increased our pace, pushing the ball on every rebound for more fast breaks and using calculated passes to whip the ball around the perimeter. We were a blur of motion, forcing their bigger, slower bodies to constantly chase. I could see them starting to slump, their hands dropping to their knees as their initial burst of energy faded. By the end of the third quarter, they were brought back to their exhaustion levels, and we had extended our lead. David and Leo were relentless, each scoring on smart cuts to the basket, while I controlled the flow, adding a few jumpers of my own.
In the fourth quarter, they attempted a desperate comeback. Too tired to drive or fight for position inside, their guards started launching three-pointers. Their first one clanged off the rim. Their second found nothing but net. They missed their third, but their fourth one went in. They had made two out of four, a last-ditch effort to close the gap.
I brought the ball up the court, my expression calm. If they wanted a shootout, I would end it.
I answered their first three with one of my own. Swish. I answered their second three with another. Swish. As they scrambled to guard me on the next possession, I used a screen from David, found my rhythm, and let a third one fly. Swish. I had made three out of four. The duel was over.
The fight went out of them after that. Their defense was broken, their energy completely spent. They managed a couple of desperate, driving layups in the final minute, but it was too little, too late. Leo hit a free throw, and we dribbled out the clock. The match ended in the defeat of the Cheetahs. It wasn't a wild, emotional victory. It was a clean, efficient, and professional win. We had executed the plan perfectly. We were ready for the finals. We were ready for the Bears.
Final Score: Knights 46, Cheetahs 40
The car ride home was filled with a quiet, satisfied energy. The exhaustion from the game was there, a dull ache in my muscles, but it was overshadowed by the clean, sharp feeling of a plan perfectly executed.
"Oh, Bradley, that was just brilliant!" Mom gushed from the passenger seat. "You all made it look so easy out there against the Cheetahs. You were so in control!"
"Your mother's right," Mark said, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror. "You played a disciplined, intelligent game. I'm proud of you." He paused, his expression turning more serious. "But I want you to temper that confidence, son. Don't let it become hubris. Remember what happened last week."
His words were a necessary anchor, pulling me back to reality. "I will, Dad," I assured him. "I won't underestimate them again. More than anything, I'm going to give my all in tomorrow's finals."
Later that night, after a hot shower and a quiet dinner, I was lying in bed, letting my body recover. I picked up my phone and texted Alex, wanting to share the news with her.
Me: Hey. We won. The game went well, our strategy worked. It's us vs. the Bears in the finals tomorrow.
Her reply came back almost instantly.
Alex: Of course you won. Was there ever any doubt? Congratulations! Now you get your rematch.
We had a little chat back and forth after that, her witty observations a welcome distraction. But the exhaustion of the day was catching up to me, and I knew what I had to do to be ready for tomorrow.
Me: I have to get some sleep. Dad's orders. Big day tomorrow.
Alex: Goodnight, Brad. Win.
I set the phone on my nightstand and turned off the light, her last word echoing in my head. The support of my family, the confidence of my girlfriend, and the burning hunger for a rematch. It was more than enough fuel. Tomorrow, we would finish the job.
…
Next Day
It was time. This is what we had been preparing for all week. I saw the familiar maroon of the Bears as Caleb, Ricky, and Liam walked onto the court. They carried themselves with an arrogant swagger, the memory of their victory last week clear in their smug expressions. It's payback time.
"Look at their smug faces. It makes me so angry," Leo spat, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.
"That smugness won't be there when we are done with them today," David said, his voice unnaturally cold and flat. The easy-going kid was gone, replaced by someone I'd been seeing more and more emerge of.
"Alright," I said, pulling them into a tight huddle. "We follow through with everything today. All the plans, all the techniques. You remember the hand signs, right?"
They both nodded. "I do. It's a neat trick, too," Leo confirmed.
"I have it memorized," David said, his gaze locked on Caleb across the court, his whole aura flaring with tempered vengeance. "Don't you worry about a thing today, Brad. We will make them know despair."
"Good," I affirmed, a cold confidence settling in my own gut. "We will go all out from the start. By halftime, we will have them gasping for air and unable to believe the lead we have."
I met David at center court. Caleb swaggered up to us, a look of pure contempt on his face as he took his position for the jump ball.
"Ready to get embarrassed, big man?" Caleb taunted David, his voice a low growl. "Defeating you guys will be like taking candy from a toddler."
David didn't get angry. He didn't even raise his voice. He just met Caleb's glare with that new, cold focus of his. "When I'm done with you," David said, his voice quiet but heavy, "you wouldn't dare to even look me in the eye."
The ref tossed the ball. As expected, Caleb won the jumper, his raw power undeniable. He tipped the ball back to Liam. But I had anticipated it.
The moment the ball touched Liam's fingertips, I appeared in front of him like a ghost. I didn't go for a clumsy swipe; I just mirrored his first dribble, my hand moving in perfect sync with his, and stole the ball clean. I was already on a fast break, the court wide open in front of me. I could have taken the simple layup, but that wasn't the mission. The mission was to demoralize them. I stopped dead at the three-point line, rose up, and shot a flawless three-pointer. Swish.
The Bears had a shocked expression on their faces. They recovered and started their own offense, but they were rattled. On their next possession, Caleb tried to set a screen, then rolled to the basket. Ricky passed him the ball, and he immediately kicked it out to Liam, who positioned himself for a three. I read the play the whole way. Just as he gathered the ball to shoot, I lunged, tapping the ball so hard that it was knocked out of Liam's hands. It bounced once on the court, a loose prize that Leo collected. He was gone in a flash, a one-man fastbreak finishing with a smooth layup.
"Get good slow baller!" I heard Leo shout at Liam as he jogged back on defense.
The Bears attempted to score again, using the passing techniques we had used against the Rhinos, moving the ball side to side. But their passes were panicked, sloppy. Caleb collected the ball in the high post and was about to shoot it when David jumped, his long arm seeming to stretch for miles as he knocked the ball out of bounds. Caleb glared at him, stunned. David just looked him dead in the eye.
"Get that weak shit out of my court," he said, his voice dangerously calm.
The Bears were completely discombobulated. They finally managed to score on a desperate, contested jumper from Ricky just to stop the bleeding. But on our next possession, I hit Leo with a perfect pass for another driving layup, and he let Liam hear about it. They answered with a lucky basket inside from their third man, but the momentum was entirely ours. I drove and hit a pull-up jumper, and then David followed with a powerful putback on a missed shot from Leo. They were so focused on our new plays, they forgot about the basics.
With the quarter winding down, they managed one last basket from a frantic drive by Ricky. But it was too little, too late. On our final possession, I gave David the signal. He set a perfect "shield" screen, Liam smacked right into David's chest so hard that even David had to take a few steps back, and I drained a wide-open three. The final insult.
The buzzer sounded. We walked to the bench, the Bears staring at the scoreboard in disbelief, their early confidence shattering.
End of First Quarter: Knights 14, Bears 6.
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