They were still lacing up when Kuhlmann walked into the gym, whistle dangling from his neck but not in his mouth. No clipboard, no greeting, no nothing. Just presence – and that was enough to shut them up.
"On the baseline," he said. They moved.
He waited until the last pair of shoes stopped squeaking, then folded his hands behind his back.
"This morning is practice," he said. "This evening, you're playing Sierra Canyon's JV."
A couple heads lifted. Jesus blinked. Ector mouthed something that looked like a curse. Grigori didn't react at all.
Kuhlmann went on. "Do not make the mistake of thinking 'JV' means soft. Sierra Canyon is one of the best programs in the country. People in the right circles already know this – NBA families have already lined it up. LeBron James is sending his sons there in a few years. Scottie Pippen? Same thing. Kenyon Martin too. That's how strong Sierra Canyon's pull is right now. Pros don't gamble with their kids' futures – they know this program is the real deal."
He let that settle.
"Their top team is a factory. Their junior group? Still disciplined, still coached, still talented. They don't take nights off just because they're not varsity yet."
Mason glanced down the line. Novak shifted his stance. Deng blinked like he only understood half of it but sensed the weight.
Kuhlmann didn't pace – just watched them. "And before any of you think, 'Why now? Why no scrimmages? Why no five-on-five?' I'll tell you."
He stepped forward once.
"We haven't run team sets because I'm not interested in watching seven strangers play pickup in matching shirts. Knowledge comes before chemistry. You needed the footwork, the reads, the spacing, the reps. You didn't know each other yet, and worse – you didn't know yourselves."
He pointed a finger – not at anyone in particular, but it still felt aimed.
"I don't let bad habits camouflage themselves in team play. You've been corrected as individuals so that when five of you share the floor tonight, you have something to offer besides confusion."
Silence. Even Jesus didn't try a joke.
"This morning we tighten the screws. We review what you've actually learned. You will run sets and actions with purpose. If you don't know a role yet, you'll get one. If you can't execute it, you'll die."
He looked down the line slowly, one face to the next.
"They're not coming here for you to get some highlights. They're coming to win. If you embarrass yourselves, it won't be because they're good. It'll be because you are bad."
Finally, he took a step back.
"Warm up. Daniel has the blocks. Marcus has the prep. You'll get roles before lunch. You'll earn minutes tonight. There is no charity time."
He blew the whistle once and they started moving.
~~~~~
After the morning practice, when they were getting ready for breakfast, Marcus leaned against the wall with a protein shake in hand and said, "So y'all finally get somebody your own age to punch at tonight. Sierra Canyon JV. Don't say I never bring you gifts."
Jesus' eyebrows shot up. "Man, JV? That's the warm-up game, right?"
Daniel didn't even look up from taping the lineup notes. "Say that again out loud and I'll make you guard all of them by yourself."
Jesus shut his mouth.
Mason cocked his head. "They even got size like us?"
Marcus shook his head. "Not like you. Their biggest JV kid's maybe six-five, six-six. Varsity got a couple taller, but you won't see 'em tonight."
Biha grunted, almost smug. Deng looked relieved before he caught himself.
Novak leaned forward. "So we're bigger. Stronger. That's good, no?"
"That's useless if you move like refrigerators," Daniel said flatly. "You think height makes you special, but those kids been in systems since middle school. They don't play hero-ball. They cut, rotate, shoot on time, and don't freeze under pressure."
Grigori leaned back on his elbows. "So they're disciplined."
Daniel pointed a finger at him. "Disciplined and scouted. Those guards they bring up? Guys like Devearl Ramsey, Remy Martin – small, quick, top-100 material in their classes. Three to four stars on scouting reports. Recruiters track them before puberty ends."
Ector frowned. "Rankings? Like top-50, ESPN stuff?"
"Man, you so stupid you really don't know that?" Tyrone asked dumbfounded.
"Exactly," Daniel said, not paying attention to Tyrone's smug remark. "A ranking tells schools and scouts you're worth a scholarship or at least worth flying out to see. But you boys? Only two of you would even show up on a list right now. I think Tyrone was in one, but it was a state ranking not national, and it was back in middle school. Am I right?"
Mason just silently nodded.
Jesus scoffed. "I'd be on it if they saw me."
Daniel stared at him. "They'd see you take eight awful shots in a row and throw your report in the toilet."
Even Mason cracked a laugh.
Marcus stepped in before Jesus fired back. "Look – Sierra Canyon don't build teams the way your hoods or your villages did. They mold guards and wings. They live off spacing, timing, and making you look dumb for gambling."
Daniel nodded. "Their JV kids have less height but more reps. They handle pressure. They've played organized tournaments, showcase leagues, camps you've never sniffed."
Novak tilted his head. "So they are… what? Sharper?"
"Sharper," Daniel said. "More eyes on them. More tape on them. When you come from programs with structure, scouts take you serious earlier. Doesn't mean they're better forever – but right now? They can expose you if you walk in thinking size equals dominance."
Grigori finally spoke up. "Then we don't walk in."
Marcus grinned. "Good. Because if you get embarrassed by underclassmen in matching backpacks, Coach will have you swimming laps till dawn."
Mason rubbed his jaw. "So we're the unknowns."
Daniel nodded once. "Unknowns nobody's asking about yet. But in the right circles? People already know Sierra's pipeline. Coach had told about that earlier in the morning. They've got pros waiting to send their sons, coaches feeding the system, and recruiters texting assistants about who's next."
Jesus leaned forward. "Then let's make them talk about us instead."
Daniel cracked a rare smile. "That's the first smart thing you've said in a week. Just remember – you don't get hype by accident. You take it."
Marcus pushed off the wall. "Get taped, get stretched, get your heads right. Tonight ain't a scrimmage. It's a test. You don't pass with potential – you pass by beating somebody who's had this life since fifth grade."
Nobody argued after that. Even the loud ones got quiet.