In the quiet hum of the club's staff room, the air was heavy with focus. The walls were lined with whiteboards scribbled with notes, drills, and potential rosters. Around the long central table sat the entire coaching and support staff.
Assistant coach Kumstrim leaned against the edge of the table, holding a stack of freshly printed evaluation sheets. His expression was serious, his tone steady as always. Seated beside him were the other assistant trainers, scouts, and coordinators who had assisted throughout the tryouts.
And at the far end of the room, calmly sipping an espresso, sat the head coach himself Luciano. Stoic, sharp eyed, and always listening.
Kumstrim tapped the papers against the table, gathering everyone's attention.
"These are the performance reports from today's drills," he began, distributing them. "Take a look through. If anyone catches your eye, mark their name we'll build the shortlist tonight."
He paused, then added, "Tomorrow we'll go into detailed analysis, video, comparisons, everything. But for now, I want to hear your first impressions."
A quiet rustle filled the room as staff members flipped through the sheets, their eyes scanning columns of numbers sprint times, agility results, shooting percentages.
Some mumbled to themselves. Others exchanged glances. The atmosphere had changed.
And so, the quiet but decisive process of evaluation began. Names would be circled. Notes scribbled in margins. Arguments sparked.
The room remained quiet for a few more moments just the shuffling of papers, the occasional pen scratching a note. Then, the voice that silenced them all came from the end of the table.
Luciano finally spoke.
His voice was deep, calm, but carried the quiet authority of someone used to being listened to.
"Jamie," he said, without even needing to glance at his paper.
Several heads turned, curious.
"Freakish athlete. That vertical jump was absurd, and his speed is top tier. That kind of body control and burst doesn't show up often."
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing with focus.
"As a shooter… he's somewhere in the middle. Inconsistent mechanics. Hot and cold. Not a liability, but not a weapon either. He'll need work."
Luciano paused for a moment, then laid his paper flat on the table with a soft thud.
"But not passing on someone with that physical ceiling?" He gave a rare smirk. "That'd be madness."
The room nodded in quiet agreement. Whatever else could be debated Jamie had the kind of tools you simply couldn't teach.
Luciano's words still lingered in the air when Kumstrim leaned forward, arms crossed over the folder in front of him. His tone was thoughtful, but firm like someone who had seen enough basketball to spot value where others might miss it.
"I agree on Jamie," he said with a nod, "but I also want to bring up Thiseas."
Some of the staff glanced up. The name didn't command the same immediate attention.
"Wasn't much of a shooter today," Kumstrim admitted openly. "Actually, below average from outside. Struggled in the catch and shoot and didn't do much off the dribble either."
He let the silence sit for a second, before continuing with a bit more weight behind his voice.
"But he's strong. Real strong. Built like a forward, and tall. The way he moves there's power there, raw and heavy. And most of these kids? They fold when the game slows down and goes into the post. He doesn't."
Kumstrim looked around the room, meeting eyes.
"We haven't even seen his full post game yet. I say not giving him the chance would be our loss, not his."
A few staffers nodded slowly, scribbling something beside Thiseas's name on their lists. The kind of player that didn't shine in drills, but made teams better when the real game began that was worth keeping an eye on.
Just as the murmurs settled, a calm but confident voice cut through the room.
It was Diego the club captain. Though younger than some of the staff, his words always carried weight. His eyes scanned the sheet in front of him before he leaned back in his chair and spoke.
"There's one more I think we should talk about," Diego said, tapping a name on the list. "Fermín. The kid from Argentina."
A few heads turned.
"He's not flashy. He didn't post any crazy numbers, didn't blow us away with athleticism or insane shooting streaks," Diego continued, his voice steady and sure. "But he's solid. Everywhere."
He lifted the paper slightly.
"Mid tier results across the board. Physical drills above average. Shooting good enough. Nothing spectacular, but no real weaknesses either."
He looked toward Luciano and Kumstrim.
"Sometimes, the guys who don't stand out on day one are the ones who stick around the longest. He adapts. He's got balance. And players like that players who can do a bit of everything can become incredibly valuable in the long run."
He gave a small shrug, casual but intentional. "I'm not saying lock him in. I'm just saying… we should keep our eyes on him. He might be one of those late bloomers who ends up doing the dirty work that keeps a team together."
A few staff members began to murmur in agreement, highlighting Fermín's name quietly acknowledging the wisdom in Diego's words.
Just as a few more names were scribbled onto the shortlist, the atmosphere in the room began to settle. The tension, once thick and electric, now eased into something quieter more thoughtful. The staff, one by one, leaned back in their chairs, quietly processing the day's whirlwind of talent, drills, and numbers.
Kumstrim was just about to speak again, his hand halfway to lifting the results sheet, when a familiar voice cut through the air.
"I'd like to add someone," Vinnie said, arms folded.
All eyes turned toward him.
"Actually, two," he clarified. "First Kris. I don't know if some of you overlooked him because he didn't exactly shine in the physical drills, but the kid tied for the best shooting performance of the entire tryout."
He paused for a moment, scanning the faces in the room before continuing.
"And for the same reason… I want to recommend Nikola as well."
The room remained quiet, no one objecting. A few silent nods followed. The numbers were there undeniable. Even those who hadn't paid close attention earlier were now flipping through their papers again, eyes finding the stats they'd missed.
Shooting spoke louder than speed sometimes.
With the momentum shifting, and nothing more to add, the room slowly fell into a thoughtful silence once again.
Kumstrim finally stepped forward, his voice clear and resolute.
"I think this will be it for today," he said, placing the results back onto the table. "We've selected fourteen prospects so far for the next day. That's a strong group. Good work, everyone."
Chairs creaked. Papers were gathered. Footsteps echoed gently across the floor as people began to filter out of the room, conversations hushed, minds already racing ahead to the evaluations tomorrow would bring.