The roar of the sports complex seeped through the walls of the bus long before the engine stopped. For Aaron, that sound was a familiar frequency; it wasn't just noise, it was the vibration of competition, the electric hum of hundreds of teenagers seeking to win the long-awaited tournament. The atmosphere inside the vehicle was a strange mix of youthful confidence after yesterday's victory and a contained nervousness for what was to come today.
Aaron took off his headphones. He had been listening to a relaxing music playlist, trying to keep his heart rate low. He knew that adrenaline was a resource that had to be managed with care. Looking out the window, he saw the imposing building of the complex. Flags from different states waved at the entrance, and the parking lot was packed with school buses and recruiters' vehicles.
"We're here," Aaron announced in a low voice.
Omar, who had fallen half-asleep leaning against the seat, sat up abruptly. He had traces of drool on his cheek and messy hair. Looking outside, his eyes widened.
"Holy cow, Aaron. Look at that. There are more people than in the Thanksgiving Day Parade."
As the Royals got off the bus in single file, led by a Coach Arbitello wearing an impeccable gray suit and a steely gaze, the atmosphere changed. As soon as the New York team set foot on the asphalt, the conversations around them dropped in volume. Murmurs began to snake through the crowd.
"That's the kid," whispered a player from a Virginia team, pointing at Aaron. "The one who had seven blocks and hit triples while playing center."
"They say he's a freshman. No way, look at how he walks. It looks like he's already been here a thousand times."
Aaron ignored the comments. His eyes, however, were fixed on the other side of the parking lot. A group of players in maroon and gold uniforms was getting off a shiny black bus. The King's Fork Bulldogs. They moved with a heavy, almost predatory cadence. Among them, one figure stood out above all. It was Davante Gardner.
Seeing him on video was one thing; having him twenty meters away was another reality. Gardner wasn't just a tall center; he was a force of nature. His shoulder width was almost double that of an average player, and his physical presence seemed to claim all the space around him.
"He's... he's a mountain," stammered Omar, who for a moment lost his usual talkativeness.
"He's a mountain," Aaron nodded, adjusting his bag straps. "But mountains don't move fast. If we make him run, if we force him to decide in milliseconds, his own weight will be the anchor that sinks him."
Warm-up
Inside the stadium, the activity was feverish. The complex housed multiple courts divided by curtains, but Court 1 was where the true pressure was felt. The stands were already at half capacity, and among the audience, Aaron spotted college recruiters. The scouts were in the same position as yesterday, with their notebooks open and cameras ready. One gave him a brief nod of the head, while the other, more professional, simply adjusted his glasses.
"To the court! Movement, movement!" Artie shouted, blowing his whistle.
The Royals began their routine. Aaron felt his muscles warm after the brief stretching. He started with simple layups, focusing on the softness of his touch near the rim. Meanwhile, on the opposite half, the Bulldogs were performing an exhibition of physical prowess that seemed specifically designed to intimidate.
Dion Bivens, the Virginia shooting guard, was an electric athlete. In a warm-up play, he threw the ball against the backboard, jumped with explosive power, and slammed it down with both hands, making the entire hoop structure groan under the impact. The crowd exploded in applause.
"They want to send a message," Corey murmured as he passed the ball to Aaron.
"Let them waste their energy on the show," Aaron responded calmly, launching a mid-range shot that barely grazed the net. "We are here to play basketball, not for a dunk contest."
Maurice, however, did not share Aaron's philosophy. Seeing Bivens' dunk, Maurice tried to respond with a dunk of his own, but the ball hit the back of the rim and went flying toward the center of the court. The awkward silence that followed was broken by the laughter of some Bulldog players.
"Concentrate, Maurice!" Coach Arbitello shouted at him, visibly annoyed. "Routine shots!"
Aaron sighed. He knew Maurice's ego would be a problem today. Maurice saw King's Fork as an opportunity to "reclaim" his throne after Aaron's brilliance in the previous game. That mentality was dangerous. In a tournament of this level, playing for yourself was the fastest way to go home on the losers' bus.
At one point, both teams crossed paths to perform layup lines. Gardner and Aaron ended up just inches apart. Gardner let out a mocking chuckle while looking at Aaron's thinner shoulders.
"Hope you ate a big breakfast, kid. You're gonna need every calorie to try and move me out of the paint."
Aaron didn't even blink. "I don't plan on moving you, Davante. I plan on going around you."
Suddenly, the referee blew the whistle three times, a signal that cut through the air like a blade. It was the moment of truth. The five starters headed to the center circle. The Royals' lineup was set: Corey as point guard, Omar as shooting guard, Maurice as small forward, Aaron in his natural power forward position, and Dominykas as the starting center in charge of the dirty work.
Dominykas stood in the center facing Gardner. The Lithuanian looked strong, muscles tensed, but next to Gardner, he looked almost thin. Aaron positioned himself to the side, knees bent and center of gravity low. His eyes weren't watching the ball, but Gardner's hips; he knew the giant's first movement would tell him where the tip-off would go.
"Up!" the referee shouted, tossing the ball into the air.
Gardner jumped with brute force, using his shoulder to create space and unbalance Dominykas in the air. It was a veteran move, subtle but enough for Dominykas to lose his timing. Gardner tipped the ball back, directly into the hands of Dion Bivens.
"Defense! Transition now!" Aaron roared, being the first to cross half-court to prevent the easy basket.
King's Fork didn't waste a second. Bivens brought the ball up as if he were on a track, applying their Run and Gun system. Gardner ran down the center like a freight train, positioning himself deep in the paint and sealing off Dominykas with his massive back. Bivens, with enviable court vision, threw him a high entry pass.
Gardner received it with his back to the basket, felt Dominykas' contact, and without hesitation, executed a power post-spin toward the center of the lane. Dominykas tried to hold his ground, but the inertia of 130 kilos moving with purpose displaced him a step back. Gardner scored a short hook with a softness that contrasted with his rugged appearance.
0-2. King's Fork strikes first.
"Told you that you couldn't stop me," Gardner hissed at Dominykas as he headed back to defend.
Aaron approached Dominykas before the inbound pass and put a hand on his shoulder, conveying calmness. "Dom, don't try to stop his first impact alone. It's not possible. Let him turn toward the center. I'm going to be covering your back from the weak side. If he thinks he has a clear path, I'll show up for the block. You just force him to turn toward where I am. Trust me."
On the next possession, the Royals brought the ball up under suffocating pressure. Bivens hounded Corey every inch of the court. Maurice called for the ball on the left wing and, true to his impulsive style, tried to beat his defender with a between-the-legs dribble that ended in a forced mid-range shot. The ball hit the iron with a dry, metallic clank.
"Rebound!" Arbitello shouted from the sideline.
Gardner positioned himself to capture it, anchoring his feet to the ground, sure that no one could take it from him. But Aaron, with the freedom to move all over the perimeter, circled the paint from the opposite side, taking advantage of his superior speed. Just as the ball descended, Aaron jumped from an angle Gardner didn't expect, stretching out his long arm and tipping the ball out to the hands of an Omar who was ready at the three-point line.
"Second chance! Move the ball!" Omar shouted, giving the ball back to Corey.
Corey, understanding the rhythm Aaron wanted to impose, saw how he made a fake entry and then quickly flared out to the opposite corner. Gardner, slow in his recovery after the missed jump for the rebound, couldn't get out to cover the perimeter. Aaron received Corey's pass, squared up in a fraction of a second, and released the ball with a perfect arc.
Swish! The sound of the net was like music to the Royals' ears.
3-2. New York's first blow came at the hands of their star rookie.
The game continued with electric intensity. The Bulldogs scored again thanks to a quick drive by Bivens, who took advantage of a defensive lapse by Maurice. But Aaron was already analyzing the patterns. He realized that King's Fork depended entirely on the defense collapsing on Gardner to free up their shooters.
In the next Royals' offensive play, Aaron moved up to the top of the key to receive the ball from Corey. By playing power forward, Aaron drew his defender out of the paint. He made a shot fake, put the ball on the floor with a low, quick dribble that left his defender frozen, and penetrated toward the heart of the zone.
The Bulldogs' defense collapsed toward him, including Gardner, who jumped with arms high to intimidate him. Aaron, in the air, kept his composure. He saw Maurice alone in the right corner. He knew that if he fed Maurice's ego now, he would be more committed to the defense later. He threw a surgical chest pass that sliced through the Virginia defense.
Maurice received it, took a second to set his shot, and hit the triple unopposed.
6-2. The Royals were ahead and the chemistry was starting to flow.
"Good pass, kid!" Maurice said grudgingly as they ran back to defend, briefly bumping palms with Aaron.
However, Gardner was not going to stand idly by. In the Bulldogs' next play, he called for the ball in the low post again. This time, when he started his turn toward the center of the lane, Aaron kept his word to Dominykas. As soon as Gardner jumped for his right-hand hook, Aaron appeared like a shadow from the weak side.
It wasn't a brute force block; Aaron simply put his hand in the trajectory of the ball just as it was leaving Gardner's fingers. A subtle touch that diverted the shot just enough for it to hit the top of the backboard and fall into Omar's hands.
"Run, Omar! Run!" Corey shouted.
The fast break was straight out of an NCAA manual. Omar threw a long pass to Corey, who was already crossing half-court. Corey, seeing Aaron running down the center lane with a long, elegant stride that left behind a Gardner who was barely starting his retreat, threw him an alley-oop pass near the rim.
Aaron jumped, caught the ball in the air, and slammed it down with a two-handed dunk that made the Royals' bench jump as if they had won the tournament. The roar in the stadium was deafening.
8-2.
Coach Arbitello nodded, jotting something down on his whiteboard. He knew the first quarter would end close due to Bivens' undeniable quality and Gardner's persistence, but Aaron's plan was working: they were wearing down the Virginia mountain mentally and physically.
At the end of the first quarter, the scoreboard showed 18-17 in favor of King's Fork after a final run of free throws, but as Aaron walked toward the bench, he noticed Gardner. The giant was sitting, panting heavily, sweat soaking his uniform and a look of deep frustration in his eyes.
Aaron sat next to Omar and accepted a bottle of water. His breathing was controlled, his eyes still fixed on Arbitello's board. "This is only the beginning," Aaron thought. "Their strength means nothing if they can't predict where we'll be."
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