Team Vess inbounded. No timeout. This wasn't regulation—it was the Rising Stars Challenge, and the heat of the moment was electric.
Nobody was going to kill the tempo just to draw up a play. The crowd would've booed them back into the locker room.
Yates dribbled past halfcourt, cool as ice. He'd flashed early—a logo three and a slick layup for 5 points—but Yates wasn't here to hunt buckets. He was a playmaker, happy to set the table. Tonight, the spotlight burned on Ryan and Frye, the MVP a two-man race. Yates knew it.
He could feel it in the air—the tension, the weight of eyes, the moment swelling like a storm before the break.
He flicked the ball to Frye on the right wing and jogged to the corner, clearing the stage.
Ryan slid over to guard Yates, while Amin stepped up, chest-to-chest with Frye. Frye's eyes narrowed, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.
Not Ryan? He smirked, ego flaring.
"Nah, I want you," he barked, waving Yates for a screen.
