The golden afternoon light stretched across the cracked concrete of Barangay Burol II's basketball court as Tristan laced up his sneakers. The court, worn but loved, buzzed softly with distant sounds of kids playing and neighbors chatting in the streets nearby. Today was different from their usual practices; today, Tristan and the core of the Black Mambas were scouts in the making.
Coach Gutierrez had emphasized the importance of knowledge — to win against strong teams, it was not enough to prepare only physically. They needed to understand their opponents' styles, tendencies, and weaknesses. So, armed with notebooks, phones, and a keen competitive spirit, Tristan, Marco, Kyle, Gab, and Felix were ready to observe the other teams in Group A.
"Eyes open, ears sharp," Coach had reminded them at the start of the morning session. "We learn their game, their strengths, their holes. But most of all — we learn how to beat them."
Barangay Salawag: The Yellow Submariners
Their first stop was Barangay Salawag's community gymnasium, where the Yellow Submariners were already warming up. The team sported bright yellow jerseys with deep navy numbers that shimmered under the loud gym lights.
As they settled onto the bleachers, Tristan opened his notebook. "First impressions?" he whispered, scanning the court.
Marco grinned. "Big guys. Slow but strong. The kind you have to wear down."
Joseph added, "Yeah, their center, Jomar Reyes — I've heard he's a beast inside."
Gab nodded knowingly. "I saw some highlights. The guy crashes the boards like a wrecking ball, sets strong screens, and scores with soft touch, too."
Felix pointed to a leaner player running drills near the sidelines. "Number 7, Angelo Santos? Quick on his feet, good shooter."
Coach had instructed them to focus on individual talents but also look at team dynamics.
The game began, and the gym filled with cheers and whistles. The Yellow Submariners controlled the tempo, methodically breaking down their opponents, Barangay Paliparan Orange Sky. Jomar immediately stamped his presence in the paint, backing down defenders with brute force, grabbing rebounds relentlessly.
Tristan was scribbling notes furiously.
"Jomar likes using his left shoulder to drive," Tristan whispered to Marco. "Notice how he sets those strong picks and rolls almost every offense through him."
Marco studied their point guard. "He lulls the defense — slows the pace, drains the clock, then makes quick passes to get Jomar an inside look."
Joseph observed their shooting. "Angelo Santos is streaky; he missed a couple of open threes. If we pressure him, we can kill their outside game."
The Submariners' defense was also disciplined: zone switching, sagging off shooters but closing in on the paint aggressively.
"Watch how they protect their rim," Gab said quietly. "Jomar funnels opponents away from the basket, forcing tough shots."
Felix grinned. "Reminds me of what we want to be—tough down low, smart outside."
Just before the end of the first quarter, Jomar drew a foul and missed one free throw, grimacing. Tristan noted, "Looks like he loses focus after contact. Could be a psychological edge."
At halftime, the Black Mambas gathered briefly outside the gym.
Tristan spoke first. "Their strength is inside. If we try to match them physically, it'll get ugly."
Joseph glanced at his notebook and said, "We'll need double teams on Jomar—but that risks leaving shooters wide open."
Marco interjected. "Their shooters aren't consistent, though. Angelo missed three big shots. We can gamble on forcing Reyes to pass out."
Gab squinted. "They don't switch well on the perimeter. We could use pick-and-rolls to create mismatches."
Felix cracked his knuckles. "Mental game will count—if we can get Jomar rattled, maybe their whole offense crumbles."
Coach approached, nodding approvingly. "Good points. We'll build on this. Offensive sets that pull Jomar out. Aggressive perimeter defense. Pressure on ball handlers."
Tristan smiled. "Pressure and pace. Make them uncomfortable."
Next, the Black Mambas traveled to Barangay Salitran, arriving in time to watch the White Rabbits face the Purple Grenadiers.
The White Rabbits moved fast — crisp passes and electric energy. They ran full-court traps and relied heavily on quick transitions.
Tristan leaned over to Marco. "This team looks a lot like us. High tempo, aggressive defense."
Marco nodded. "Their guards push hard, looking for turnovers."
Gab noticed their offensive patterns. "They use a lot of pick-and-rolls with quick decisions. Cuts and screens are fast and sharp."
Joseph observed their defensive weaknesses. "Their half-court defense is reactive but can get stretched if teams move the ball well."
Felix added, "And they don't have a dominant big inside—mostly guards and wings. Could be easier to attack the basket."
"Watch those two guards," Tristan said quietly, pointing. "They're lightning on the break but can get over-aggressive on defense, leaving lanes vulnerable."
The White Rabbits' defense applied suffocating pressure on the ball handler. Twice, they forced turnovers with double teams and traps set just past half court.
Coach whispered to the group. "They rely heavily on communication and rotation—if we can confuse them with misdirection, we might create open shots."
Tristan smiled. "More reasons for us to keep our passes quick and sharp."
That same evening, the team headed to Barangay Sampaloc to watch the league's third Group A scrimmage: the Brown Bears against the Orange Sky.
The Brown Bears were the height of physicality. They looked like a team built to crash the boards and grind out every point. Their offense was simple: feed the post, get second-chance points, and defend aggressively.
Marco whispered, "These guys will push us physically."
Joseph agreed. "They're big and tough inside but lack range—no real three-point shooters."
Felix laughed, "That means we can draw their bigs away from the basket and open up drives."
Offensively, the Orange Sky were fast but undisciplined. Crisp pick-and-rolls turned to hasty shots or turnovers at times.
Tristan observed, "They push tempo but often force shots without spacing. We'll need to capitalize if they lose patience."
Gab pointed out defensive flaws. "The Orange Sky guards gamble on steals and often abandon their positions, letting opponents exploit lanes."
Tristan took meticulous notes on their rotations and reaction times.
Coach spoke quietly. "This is the kind of team that can surprise us if we underestimate their heart."
The van hummed through quiet streets, its occupants exhausted but energized from the day.
Joseph broke the silence. "The differences between these teams are clear. We can't play the same way against all of them."
Marco nodded. "We have to adapt—be physical when we need to, but also quick and smart."
Felix smiled. "I'm excited. Every team has holes we can exploit."
Gab added thoughtfully, "And we have to improve our mental game. The pressure, the endurance, the focus."
Tristan looked out the window, eyes fiery. "We've got the advantage—knowledge. But now, it's time to put it into action."
Coach turned back toward the team from the driver's seat. "That's exactly what I want to hear. Scouting isn't just watching — it's learning and preparing ourselves to be better."
The Black Mambas returned to their home court with refreshed eyes and sharpened minds.
Coach wasted no time. "We're going to break today's scouting into practice."
He directed Marco and Tristan to run ball-handling drills simulating the White Rabbits' full-court traps.
"Marco," Coach said, "you're the aggressive trapper. Tristan, work on controlling the ball under pressure and reading your options."
As the two duelled in swift dribbles and sharp passing, Coach shouted corrections, pushing them harder with each round.
Meanwhile, Gab and Joseph focused on post defense.
"Remember Jomar and the Yellow Submariners," Coach reminded them. "Force smart fouls, don't get blocked out. Work as a wall."
Felix took charge on defensive rotations. "Perimeter pressure is key. The shooters lose confidence when hurried."
Between sets, Tristan caught Gab's eye, voice low.
"Think we can contain Jomar if we double team smart?"
Gab grinned. "If we collapse quickly, force the ball out, then rotate fast—the shooters won't get open."
Marco interjected, panting, "And we can pick up the pace when we force turnovers, catch them off guard in transition."
Joseph smiled, "It all comes down to execution."
Felix nodded. "And mental toughness. We can't crack under pressure."
At the end of practice, drenched and breathless, the team circled around Coach.
He smiled wryly. "You've seen their games. You've analyzed their moves. Great start. But it's not enough."
"You have to own the court. Own every moment."
Tristan stepped forward. "We're ready to keep pushing, Coach."
Coach's gaze scanned the faces of his players—exhausted but determined.
"Good. Tomorrow we start video review sessions. Detailed breakdowns. We prepare for war."
Gab clapped his hands softly. "Let's get that championship."
The team echoed the sentiment — a quiet promise hanging heavy in the humid air.
The Black Mambas had done their homework.
The league was coming.
And when they met the courts again, they would be ready.