Jace Carter had been playing basketball at an elite level for so long that he'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be challenged. Really challenged. Not just by a good team or a solid defender, but by someone who refused to back down no matter what he threw at them.
He brought the ball up court, his jaw set tight, his eyes sharper than they'd been all game. The amusement was gone now. The casual confidence had shifted into something more dangerous. More focused.
Five-point game. Five minutes left. Time to end this.
Darius picked him up at half court, his stance lower than before, his hands even more active. Sweat poured down both their faces, their jerseys soaked through, but neither showed any sign of slowing down.
Jace drove hard to his right, using his shoulder to create separation. Darius absorbed the contact and stayed with him. Jace crossed back left, his handle tight and controlled. Darius recovered, sliding his feet perfectly.
Finally, Jace rose up from eighteen feet, his release quick and pure.
The ball went in.
Riverside 101, Bayview 94.
Jace jogged back, and as he passed Darius, he said something under his breath. "That's seven points. Don't get comfortable."
Darius didn't respond. He just caught the inbound pass from Eli and attacked immediately.
He crossed half court and went into a pick and roll with Eli. When Jace and DeAndre hedged, Darius rejected the screen and drove middle instead. The defense scrambled to recover, and Darius kicked it to Daren on the wing.
Daren caught it, shot-faked Terrell into the air, then drove baseline for a layup.
Riverside 101, Bayview 96.
"Five points!" Coach Anderson shouted from the sideline, his voice hoarse from yelling all game. "We're right there! Keep fighting!"
The Bayview crowd was deafening now. Students were jumping up and down. Parents were on their feet. Even the opposing fans were standing, recognizing they were witnessing something special.
Jace brought it back up, and this time he didn't waste any motion. He called for an isolation at the top of the key, and when his teammates cleared out, he went to work.
He dribbled left, testing Darius's balance. Darius stayed centered. Jace crossed to his right, then immediately back left, his speed explosive. Darius stayed with him, his conditioning from all those early morning workouts paying off now.
Jace stopped and pulled up from three-point range. Darius jumped, his hand reaching toward the ball, contesting perfectly.
The shot went in anyway.
Riverside 104, Bayview 96.
Eight-point game again. Four minutes left.
Jace looked at Darius as they ran back, and something passed between them. Not words. Just acknowledgment. Yeah, you're playing good defense. But I'm still going to score.
Darius brought it back up, his mind working in perfect sync with the Hustle System now. He didn't need the text appearing in his vision anymore. He could feel where his teammates were, where the defensive gaps would appear, what the right play was before it even developed.
He drove hard into the paint, forcing Riverside's defense to collapse. When three defenders converged on him, he kicked it to Marcus in the corner.
Marcus caught it and shot without hesitation.
Three-pointer. Good.
Riverside 104, Bayview 99.
Five-point game. Three and a half minutes left.
"That's what I'm talking about!" Malik was screaming from the bench, jumping up and down with Kenny and the rest of the reserves. "Keep it going! Don't let up!"
Jace pushed the pace now, attacking before Bayview could get set. He crossed half court and immediately went into his pull-up jumper, the shot he'd been making all game.
But this time Darius was there faster, his closeout perfect, his hand up without fouling.
The shot missed.
Eli grabbed the rebound and immediately looked up court.
Darius was already running. The pass came long and perfect. Darius caught it near the three-point line with Jace chasing from behind.
Instead of going to the rim, Darius stopped suddenly at the elbow and shot a pull-up jumper.
Swish.
Riverside 104, Bayview 101.
Three-point game. Three minutes left.
The arena was shaking now. The noise was so loud you couldn't hear yourself think. Parents were hugging each other. Students were losing their minds. Even the Riverside fans were looking nervous.
On the bench, Terrell Hayes turned to their coach. "Should we call timeout?"
"Not yet," the coach said, his voice steady but his eyes betraying concern. "Let Jace handle it. He always does."
But Jace was feeling something he rarely felt on a basketball court. Pressure. Real, genuine pressure that made his heart beat a little faster and his palms a little more sweaty than usual.
He brought the ball up and called for a screen from Brandon. When it came, he used it to create space and rose up for another three-pointer.
This time Darius fought through the screen and got a hand up just as the ball left Jace's fingertips.
The shot hit the front of the rim and bounced out.
Marcus grabbed the rebound.
Bayview pushed again. Darius brought it up and immediately swung it to Daren, who drove and kicked to Eli. Eli caught it in the paint, turned, and shot over Brandon's contest.
Good.
Riverside 104, Bayview 103.
One-point game. Two and a half minutes left.
The Riverside coach finally called timeout.
As both teams walked to their benches, the energy in the building was electric. The impossible comeback was one possession away from being complete. Bayview, written off as dead fifteen minutes ago, was about to tie or take the lead.
On the Riverside bench, Jace sat down and grabbed his water bottle, his eyes distant. Terrell sat next to him. "You good, man?"
"Yeah," Jace said quietly. "I'm good."
But he wasn't thinking about his teammates or the timeout or even the score. He was thinking about the last five minutes. About how every time he'd tried to put the game away, Darius had been there. About how every shot that should have killed Bayview's momentum had either missed or been answered immediately.
About how, for the first time all season, someone had matched his intensity and refused to break.
His coach was talking, drawing up plays on the clipboard, but Jace wasn't really hearing it. His mind was going somewhere else. Somewhere deeper. Somewhere he only went when the game demanded absolutely everything he had.
The timeout ended. Both teams stood up and walked back onto the court.
Jace caught the inbound pass and brought it up slowly, his dribble rhythmic and controlled. The crowd noise was still deafening, but to Jace, it was starting to fade. The anxious faces of his teammates were becoming less distinct. Even Darius's defensive pressure, which had been suffocating all quarter, felt like it was operating in slow motion.
Everything was slowing down.
Everything was becoming clear.
Jace crossed half court, and as he looked at the basket sixty feet away, something clicked inside him. A switch flipped. The part of his brain that worried about the score or the pressure or what would happen if they lost just... turned off.
All that remained was the game. Pure and simple. Him, the ball, and the basket.
He was entering the zone.