Los Angeles | 2010
Bradley's POV
"THE KNIGHTS HAVE DETHRONED THE RAVENS! THE KNIGHTS HAVE TAKEN THE CROWN!"
The announcer's voice was a distant, distorted boom. My own thoughts were a roaring, chaotic symphony. 'Holy shit… Holy Shit… I did it. I fucking did it.' The surge of excitement and relief leaking from within me was overwhelming. This kid was goddamn insane. He was the walking, talking, street-ball-playing incarnation of Aomine if I ever saw one. When he started busting his moves, I was genuinely shocked at the sheer level of skill he displayed.
Then, the pain hit. I felt the burn as soon as I touched ground again. It was a searing, white-hot fire that shot up from my feet. I had gone into absolute overdrive when I made that jump; my body was not able to match my will. The quads, glutes, calves, and hamstrings in both my legs were blaring emergency signals, telling me that I had messed up. I even felt my knees rattle, and that was most definitely not a good sign.
I looked towards him, Max was collapsed on the hardwood while I kept standing, if only barely. This guy had the fire along with the skill I had not seen in any of the players I had played with or against so far. I started the long walk towards him, almost crying from the pain, my face a carefully constructed mask of calm. I couldn't let anyone know.
I stood over him and extended my hand. He looked up at me, surprised. "You played beyond my expectations," I said, the words full of a hard-earned respect.
He sighed at my remark. "Yeah, I did more than my best, but you still won." Then his sadness was replaced by a blooming smile. "Next time, Imma bury you." He took my hand as he stood up. I smiled back at him.
The moment of quiet sportsmanship was shattered. I felt someone collide into me, a hard impact that sent a jolt of agony through my protesting legs. It made me wince, but before I could react, I realized my entire team was about to pile onto me.
"Braaad, we did itttttttt!" Leo, the one who collided with me, shouted as he hugged me. Patrick jumped on us soon after, and then David came in as they started jumping with me in the center. Soon, my entire team was around me as they shouted "We Wonnnnnnn" and all other cheers of excitement. It felt like we had become NBA Champions.
After that we all shook hands with the Ravens who looked downcast and tired. I knew patting their backs or consoling them would do nothing so I just firmly shook their hands as did my teammates and we left them in peace to come to terms with the results.
Coach Heath came into my vision then as everyone calmed down, his voice cutting through the celebratory haze. "Congratulations, boys! You've just accomplished the very height of Junior High Basketball. Now, we need to be done with the ceremonies before the real celebrations, so go and get hydrated."
Everyone cheered again as they all parted and went to drain gallons of water to regain some stamina. The moment the weight of my teammates lifted, the pain returned with a vengeance, a white-hot fire consuming both of my legs. Every muscle fiber screamed in protest.
Coach Heath came close to me as he placed his hand on my shoulder, his eyes sharp and analytical. "My dear boy, in all my years as a player and as a coach, I have never seen anybody fly. It was simply astounding, beyond belief, what you did in blocking that shot."
"Thanks, Coach," I said, the words coming out a little breathless.
Then, Coach Heath gave a knowing smile. "Both your legs are dead, aren't they?"
The accuracy of his assessment was so startling that I had the guile to look embarrassed. "Yeah. I can barely walk, and I feel massive pain when I do. How did you know? I thought I masked it."
He smiled more openly at that. "Nobody survives their first massive vertical, Bradley, not even little beasts of nature like you. Now come on," he said, gently guiding me toward the bench. "And don't sit down, because if you do, you won't stand up again. Just try to get through the ceremony, and then once we leave, you can finally rest. Or you could show the pain and get some relief now."
I looked him straight in the eye. The thought of showing weakness, of limping onto that stage after a victory I had sealed with that very jump, was unthinkable. "Never."
He chuckled at that. "The hard way it is, then."
The walk to the bench was the longest ten feet of my life. Each step was a carefully controlled agony, a negotiation between my will and my screaming muscles. I grabbed a water bottle, the cool plastic a small, insignificant comfort, and forced myself to stay standing, leaning against the table for support. Before I could even take a proper drink, the announcer's voice boomed through the speakers again, calling us to center court. We were immediately dragged into the awards ceremony.
The lights dimmed again, a single spotlight hitting the makeshift stage where the league officials stood with their medals and trophies.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let's hear it for our runners-up!" the announcer roared. "Putting up an incredible fight and showing the heart of a champion, give it up for the Jefferson Junior High Ravens!"
I watched as Max and his team walked up to get their silver medals. While some of his teammates seemed downcast, their shoulders slumped in defeat, Max was smiling. He was clapping them on the back, whispering something in their ears, his energy infectious. He was a true leader, a beacon of positivity even in the face of a heartbreaking loss. He responded to their disappointment with encouragement, and I saw a few of them straighten up, their own smiles returning. I had a profound, deep respect for that guy.
Then the announcer's voice dropped, building the drama. "And now, for the tournament's Most Valuable Player! This young man led his team with unmatched strategy and a will to win that was second to none! Make WAYYYYYYY FOR THE STARRRMAAAAAN! The player with the most assists, most steals, and the third-most points in this tournament! THE COMMMANDEEEERRRR OF THE KNIGHTS, BRADLEEEEEEEEEEYYYYY MARK NAAAAAAAAIIIIIRRRRRRRRRRRDDDDDD!"
My name echoed through the gym. For a second, my legs felt like they were going to give out. Just walk, I told myself. One foot in front of the other. I handed my water bottle to David and started the long, lonely walk to the stage. The spotlight was a blinding white circle, the applause a deafening roar. Every step was a fresh wave of fire. I kept my face a mask of calm, confident pride as I walked up to get my trophy for MVP. It was heavier than I expected, the cool, polished wood a solid, real thing in my trembling hands. I shook hands with the officials, smiled for the cameras, and walked back to my team, the pain a distant, screaming backdrop to the surreal moment.
"And finally," the announcer bellowed, his voice reaching a fever pitch, "your 2010 Earvin 'Magic' Johnson Junior High Inter-School Basketball Champions! The team that fought through adversity, that never gave up! Give it up for your Northwood Junior High... KNIIIIIIIIIGHTS!"
The gym exploded. My team erupted around me, a chaotic, joyful mob. We were pushed onto the center, and the championship trophy was placed into my hands. It was bigger, heavier than the MVP trophy. The flashes of cameras were a constant, blinding strobe. We took photos as a team, individual members posing with the trophy, and then the all-around celebrations broke loose. Leo and David lifted me onto their shoulders, and a fresh, agonizing jolt of pain shot through my legs. I winced, but the expression was lost in the sheer, overwhelming joy of the moment as I held the championship trophy high above my head, the crowd roaring, my team chanting my name.
Finally, we made ready with everything and boarded our bus as we headed back to school. The initial, explosive celebration had settled into a low, happy buzz. I stared out the window at the passing city lights, my mind replaying the final moments of the game. I knew Mom would pick me up, and I was slightly concerned that I might have to go to the hospital, considering the pain jolting through my legs. Yet amidst it all, I was happy, truly content with the scale of my achievement. This wasn't a handicapped team or a league I was too good for. This was my team, one I built on my sweat and drive. These people were my friends, my genuine friends, and I felt pride at this.
Patrick came and sat next to me. "You hurt or something?" he asked, his voice full of genuine concern.
I gave a reluctant smile. "Yeah, I think I tore my leg muscles, maybe even a ligament. The only feeling I have from my legs is abject, torturous pain, but I'm keeping it together somehow."
Listening to our conversation, David and the others also joined in. "Dude, that jumper at the end," Leo said excitedly. "I was just focusing on you as you took the leap. In my mind, I was like, 'No way is Brad gonna be able to block that; he jumped too early.' But then you kept rising and rising. Yo, my brain glitched at that. Like you were flying, man. That was straight-up baller, LeBron in the flesh."
"Yeah, well, it hurts like a bitch now," I chuckled out, and they all started laughing as well.
We spent the rest of the ride talking about other moments of the game—David's battles with Tony, Patrick's fadeaway jumper, the sheer guts of our bench players in the third quarter. It was the perfect end to a perfect season.
We finally reached the school, the bus pulling into the empty parking lot. The moment I stood up, the pain in my legs returned with a vengeance. I stumbled, and immediately, David and Patrick were on either side of me, helping me walk.
I was hoping for my mom to pick me up, her calming presence a welcome comfort after the long day. But as we made our way out of the bus, I was baffled to see my Dad. He was standing under the parking lot lights, talking to the school principal. He was in his complete formal military attire, the rows of ribbons on his chest gleaming, with two agents standing by his side.
He saw us, and his face broke into a wide, proud smile. But the smile immediately turned into a frown of concern when he saw me being held up by my friends. He came over, his long strides eating up the distance between us.
"Are you injured?" he asked, his voice sharp with concern as his eyes scanned my legs.
"It's just a sports injury, Dad," I assured him. "A check-up will do. Nothing serious."
"Congratulations on the win, Bradley," the principal said, shaking my hand. "You and your team made Northwood proud tonight."
"It was a team effort sir" I replied.
"We will be sure to celebrate it come Monday" he said confidently.
My dad looked at my friends. "Thank you, boys, for helping him," he said, a note of genuine gratitude in his voice. They helped me to the car, and I was seated inside. My dad then turned back to the rest of the team who had gathered around.
"To celebrate this incredible victory," he announced, his voice carrying with a general's authority, "I'd like to invite the entire team to our house for a party this coming Saturday. And please, extend the invite to your parents as well."
A chorus of excited "Yes, sirs!" and "Thank yous" erupted from the team.
Then he boarded the car and we left. We drove in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only sound the soft hum of the engine. He just looked at me, a deep, unwavering pride in his eyes.
"I'm proud of you, son."
The SUV was a quiet, I welcomed it after the blinding lights and deafening roar of the gym. I leaned my head against the cool leather of the seat, my eyes closed, the heavy MVP trophy resting on my lap. The pain in my legs was a dull, throbbing bassline beneath the high-pitched ringing in my ears. But I had won. We had won. That thought was a warm, steadying presence. I pulled out my phone, my fingers moving stiffly as I typed out a message.
Me:We won.
Her reply came back almost instantly, a burst of pure, unfiltered excitement.
Lexi:I KNEW IT!!!! CONGRATULATIONS!!!! I wish I could have been there to see it!
A smile touched my lips.
Me:It was a good game. Tough. Got a little banged up at the end.
I watched the three little dots appear and disappear, then reappear. Then the messages came in a rapid-fire burst, a testament to her panicked typing.
Lexi:What do you mean banged up?Lexi:Are you hurt? Where?Lexi:How bad is it? Are you at the hospital?
I chuckled, the sound a little rough in the quiet car. Her concern was a balm on my aching muscles. It was… cute.
Me:Just my legs. Dad's taking me to get them checked out now. Don't worry, I'm a fast healer.
Lexi:Don't you dare joke about this! I'm serious, Bradley!
Me:I know. And I appreciate it. But I also know what will fix me faster than any doctor.
Lexi:What?
I let a slow, cheeky grin spread across my face as I typed the next message, my thumbs moving with a new purpose.
Me:A few kisses and a lot of hugs from my girlfriend. That's the real cure.(Wink emoji)
The pause this time was longer. I could almost picture her on the other end, her face flushed, her mind racing. Then, the reply came, and it was so much bolder, so much more confident than I could have ever expected.
Lexi:You just get home and get some rest. And when I see you tomorrow, I'll give you all the kisses and hugs you want.
My breath hitched. I read the message again, the words a warm, intoxicating promise.
Me:Can't wait.
I closed the phone, not bothering to put it back in my pocket. I just let it rest on my chest, right over my heart, the screen dark but the promise of her words lighting up everything inside me. The pain in my legs was still there, a screaming fire, but for the first time since I'd landed that jump, I barely even registered it.
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And that's a Wrap on Season 1. Next chapter starts the timeskip and it will go on for 4 chapters.