Los Angeles | 2009
Bradley's POV
"Alright boys, huddle up," Coach Heath commanded, his voice echoing in the polished, familiar space of the Northwood gym. We walked straight up to him and gathered around, the pre-game energy a low, thrumming hum in the air.
"Leo, David, Bradley, Patrick, and Marcus will start the game," he announced, his eyes scanning each of our faces. "We will substitute as per stamina considerations. Now, we have the home court advantage, and the opponents are a fledgling group of amateurs who, as far as I can tell, have a parent as their coach. We can win this, but don't get cocky." His gaze landed on me, sharp and direct. "I'm talking to you, Bradley. We have to win, but we do not humiliate our competitors. Am I clear?"
The memory of the tournament final, of my dad's stern lecture, was still fresh. "I get it, coach," I relented. "I won't try anything out of spite."
"Good. Then you all have a game to play. Alright, on three… one… two… three… KNIGHTS!"
"HOORAH!" we all roared back.
Our opponents this time were the Saint Mary Junior High squad, wearing green jerseys. As they warmed up on the other end of the court, my initial assessment was confirmed. They were mostly kids who did not look athletic or as well built as us, and I couldn't blame them. Northwood had an established team and took their work seriously, but that was not the case for all schools.
Out of the eighteen league games played during the season, I knew that, at max, seven would be against teams that could truly challenge us. The rest were just practice. Saint Mary, unfortunately for them, fell in the latter category. It was the perfect match for me to test the team's new discipline and coordination in a live-fire exercise.
We headed for jump ball next, David aligned perfectly on the center court his opponent center was clearly shorter than him and the jump ball result was already prophesised to end in David's victory. As the whistle blew and the ball went in the air David leaped and tipped it straight into Leo's hand who did not immediately launch himself he casually dribbled over to their side and then passed the ball over to me.
I took it and announced "L-5.1" they all immediately understood and set up their positions. It was time to test the system we had spent the last month perfecting.
I brought the ball to the top of the key. We were in our 5-out formation— Player 1 (Brad) at the top, Player 2 (Leo) and Player 4 (Marcus) on the wings, and Player 3 (Patrick) and Player 5 (David) in the corners. I initiated the first play.
It was a simple Top to Wing Pass. I fired the ball to Leo on the right wing. The moment the ball left my hands, I executed my part of the play: a hard passer basket cut all the way through the key, my path a sharp diagonal line aimed at the hoop, designed to draw the defense inward. I didn't stop, continuing my run until I filled the opposite corner.
As I cut, I watched my teammates execute their roles perfectly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Patrick (3) and David (5) fill up the positions closer to the basketball, their movements fluid and automatic. The defense, forced to account for my cut and their rotation, was a half-step slow to react. Leo saw the opening my cut had created. He whipped a pass to David, who had rotated into the high post. David caught it, made one power dribble, and laid it in for an easy two points. It was perfect.
We ran the same initial action on the next possession. I made the top to wing pass and cut through. This time, my defender followed me, trying to deny a return pass. It was the wrong move. His decision to stick with me left the lane wide open. Leo, seeing the opening, didn't hesitate. He drove hard to the basket for a layup of his own.
We used our 5 out game plays to stretch their defense to its breaking point. Every pass had a purpose; every cut was designed to create an advantage somewhere else on the floor. I'd hit Patrick in the corner for an open jumper. Leo would use a screen from David to get free on the wing. We were playing a brand of selfless, intelligent basketball that they had no answer for.
I felt a deep, profound satisfaction watching it unfold. This was the vision. This was the "unbreakable unit" I had imagined. It wasn't about one player's talent; it was about the coordinated effort of five players thinking and moving as one.
With the ball on the right wing, I signaled to Leo (Player 2). He nodded, understanding the call. He initiated the Wing to Corner Pass, firing the ball to Patrick (Player 3) in the corner. The moment the ball left his hands, Leo executed his role, making a hard basket cut all the way through the key to fill the opposite corner. As he did, I watched the rest of the machine click into place: Patrick (3), David (5), and I (1) all filled up the positions closer to the basketball, a fluid, synchronized rotation that left the defense completely bewildered. Patrick saw the opening and hit David on the rotation for an easy layup. It was beautiful.
But it wasn't always that clean. On the next possession, we tried it again, but this time the pass was not fast enough. Marcus, who I'd subbed in for Patrick, hesitated for a split second, and a Saint Mary's defender got a hand in the passing lane, deflecting the ball and leading to a turnover. Another time, the cutting didn't take place properly; Leo and I nearly collided as we filled the open spots, clogging the lane and forcing a bad shot.
I could feel a flicker of frustration from the guys, but I held the line. "It's okay! Reset!" I'd call out, clapping my hands. "Watch the timing! See the space!" I was a coach on the floor, and I could see them slowly but progressively syncing with each other.
They'd make a mistake, but then on the next play, David would set a crushing screen, or Leo would make a perfect backdoor cut. They were learning, adapting in real time. The quarter was a messy, grinding affair, with moments of brilliant execution followed by clumsy errors. We weren't dominating them with flashy plays; we were just methodically wearing them down, building our chemistry one possession at a time. By the time the buzzer sounded, we had a small, hard-earned lead.
End of First Quarter: Knights 12, Saint Mary 7
The second quarter began, and I decided to introduce the next sequence in our 5-out motion offense.
Leo, Player 2, initiated the Wing to Corner Pass, firing the ball to Patrick in the corner. As instructed, the passer also basket cut all the way through the key and filled the opposite corner. But the rotation was sluggish. Marcus was a half-second late filling the top spot. The passing lane was clogged, the timing was off. Turnover. Saint Mary scored on the other end.
This was the process.
There were instances where the cutting didn't take place properly or where the pass was not fast enough. But I held the line. "It's okay! Recover!" I called out, clapping my hands. "Trust the system! Trust each other!"
They were slowly but progressively syncing with each other. We ran the Wing to Corner Pass again. This time, as 2 cut through, I watched as 3, 5, and 1 all filled up the positions closer to the basketball in a fluid, automatic rotation. The defense was completely lost in the shuffle, leaving David open for an easy basket.
We started mixing in the other plays. The Corner to Wing Pass, where the passer basket cuts and replaces themselves, became a reliable way to get a quick, high-percentage shot. The halftime buzzer sounded with us comfortably in the lead.
The third quarter was where it all came together. The initial rust and hesitation were gone, replaced by a humming, confident energy. They weren't just running plays anymore; they were reading the game.
We ran the most complex play in our new system, the Wing to Top Pass. Marcus, on the wing, made the pass to me at the top. He immediately made his basket cut and then filled the corner of the same side he cut from. Just as he did, Patrick, who was in the other corner, filled up closer to the basketball, and Marcus seamlessly took his place, with 3 replacing them in the corner. The defense was a step behind the entire time, their rotations frantic and useless. The play ended with a wide-open three-pointer for Leo.
This was no longer a group of individuals. This was a team.
This being their first team match after the summer, they were shaping up to be a team to be reckoned with. They were moving with a shared mind, a devastating, five-man weave of constant motion that the Saint Mary's squad had no answer for.
End of First Quarter: Knights 40, Saint Mary 25.
As the fourth quarter was about to begin, Coach Heath blew his whistle and motioned for me, Leo, and David to come to the sideline.
"You three are done for the day," he said, his tone firm. "Good work. You built the lead; now let's see if the rest of the team can hold it. I want to see what our bench can do."
He then turned to the other players. "Adam, you're running point. Patrick and Marcus, you're staying in. I'm switching everyone else out."
I took a seat on the bench between Leo and David, my role suddenly shifting from player to analyst. I watched as Adam took my place on the court, a look of grim determination on his face. Wasn't that a surprise he had shown up on court the day after I kicked him out. He was in the coach's office for almost 30 minutes but when they came out the coach had made it clear that Adam would remain on the squad provided he maintains decorum and diligence.
The coach had schooled me with his eyes, so I had kept my mouth shut then. Later on, when he called me to his office he explained that Adam had quite literally tattled on me. I was livid at that admission, but I explicitly told the Coach why I did not like Adam on the team. The Coach thankfully agreed. He admitted that Adam would be on the roster for the first two matches and if there was no significant improvement on his behalf he would be let go. I was sure of his incompetence, so I agreed and left. Now I sat silently as I watched him struggle against amateurs.
The final quarter played out in a much tamer fashion than the previous ones. Without the constant threat of our fast breaks and complex plays, the game settled into a more traditional, half-court rhythm. Adam was an okay, if uninspired, point guard. He ran the basic plays, passed the ball to the open man, and didn't take unnecessary risks.
I was more interested in watching Patrick and Marcus. They were the anchors of this new lineup, playing with the same intensity and discipline we had drilled into them all week. Patrick was a beast on the boards, and Marcus hit a couple of key mid-range jumpers that kept our offense afloat.
The Knights won with a final score of 48 to Saint Mary's 34. It wasn't a spectacular finish, but it was a solid, professional victory that gave our bench players valuable, confidence-building minutes on the court. It was a win for the whole team, and that was exactly what we needed.
We shook hands with the Saint Mary Squad, and then the gym fizzled out, the noise of the game fading into the echoing quiet of the emptying space. I looked up into the bleachers, and my eyes immediately found her. Alex was still here. I waved at her, and she waved back, a small, proud smile on her face. She had insisted on seeing the first match because she may not be able to see the ones that come after, due to her own packed schedule. The fact that she had still shown up lent a warm feeling to my chest.
"Great work, boys," Coach Heath said, his voice booming with satisfaction as he patted us on the back. "If we keep up this momentum, we will be making the playoffs quite handily. We will discuss the breakdown of the game during practice tomorrow. For now, you have all earned a good rest."
I told the guys I would see them tomorrow and then headed off.
I packed my kit and, after wiping myself dry with a towel, walked over to meet Alex at the bottom of the bleachers. "Your place or mine?" I asked, my voice low and easy.
She gave me a once-over, a teasing, witty smirk playing on her lips. "Well, considering you're drenched and would probably need a bath, how about your place?"
I looked down at my sweat-soaked jersey and laughed at my own stupidity. I had no spare clothes. "Yeah, you're right. I need a change of clothes. Come on, let's go. Harris should be here already." I glanced at her. "You've told your mom, right?"
"Yeah, she knows I'll either come home with you or will be back in the evening from your place," she replied. "I'll still call and tell her about it once we reach your home."
"Sounds great. Let's go then."