The timeout felt like being underwater. Coach Martinez was drawing something on his clipboard, his mouth moving with words that Darius could barely process because his mind was somewhere else entirely. Fifteen-point deficit. His teammates scattered on the bench, some drinking water, some staring at the floor, all of them locked in their own individual frustrations.
Darius looked at them. Really looked at them. Ty was shaking his head like he couldn't believe they were losing to a C-tier school. Connor was stretching his hamstrings, his face neutral but his eyes distant. Jerome was wiping sweat off his face with a towel, his jaw tight with the kind of tension that came from knowing you weren't playing well but not knowing how to fix it.
"Alright, listen up," Coach Martinez was saying. "We need to—"
"Coach, can I say something?" Darius interrupted, his voice cutting through the huddle.
Coach paused, his eyebrows raising slightly. Players didn't usually interrupt coaches during timeouts. But something in Darius's tone made him step back.
"Go ahead."
Darius stood up, looking at each of his teammates. "We're getting killed out there because we're playing like we don't know each other. But that's not true. We've been training together for weeks. We know how Ty likes to come off screens. We know Connor's timing on backdoor cuts. We know Jerome's favorite spots in the post."
Ty scoffed. "Man, knowing something and executing it are two different things."
"I know," Darius said quickly. "But we're not even trying to execute. We're all just trying to get ours individually. And yeah, I get it. We all want to make first string. We all want Coach to notice us. But you know what he's noticing right now? That we're down fifteen to a C-tier school."
The words landed heavy. Nobody responded immediately.
"Look," Darius continued, his voice getting more urgent. "Just try it for this game. Play as a team. Move the ball. Set screens for each other. Make the extra pass. If it doesn't work, if we still lose, then fine. Go back to doing your own thing next game. But at least try it once. Because right now, what we're doing? It's not working."
The silence stretched out. Jerome was the first to speak, his deep voice carrying skepticism. "And you think playing together is suddenly gonna fix everything?"
"I think it's better than what we're doing now."
Connor leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "He's got a point. We look like trash out there individually anyway. Might as well look like trash together and see what happens."
Ty shook his head but there was a small smile on his face. "You're crazy, freshman. But whatever. One game. That's it."
The other players nodded, some more reluctant than others, but they were agreeing. Coach Martinez watched this entire exchange with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. But Darius could see something in his eyes. Recognition maybe. Or curiosity.
"Alright then," Coach said simply. "Let's see what happens when you actually play like a team. Darius, Connor, Jerome, Ty, and Marcus. You're starting the second half."
They broke the huddle and headed back onto the court. The Riverside Valley crowd was loud, sensing their team was about to blow this game open. But something had shifted in the Lincoln Heights huddle. Small. Intangible. But real.
The third quarter started with Riverside Valley up 47-32. Fifteen-point deficit. Eight minutes to make something happen.
Darius brought the ball up, and instead of everyone standing and waiting, Connor immediately set a screen for Ty on the weak side. Ty used it and cut to the basket. Darius saw it and fired a bounce pass through traffic.
Ty caught it in stride and finished with a layup.
Riverside Valley 47, Lincoln Heights 34.
Ty jogged back and pointed at Connor. "Good screen, bro."
Connor nodded. "Good cut."
It was small. Just a two-point basket and a couple of words. But it was different.
Riverside Valley brought it back, and their offense executed cleanly, getting an open three-pointer that swished through.
Riverside Valley 50, Lincoln Heights 34.
Back to sixteen points.
But Darius didn't panic. He brought it up and immediately called for movement. "Motion! Let's go!"
Connor set a screen for Jerome, who flashed to the high post. Darius hit him with a pass. Jerome immediately looked for Ty cutting baseline. The pass was there. Ty finished with another layup.
Riverside Valley 50, Lincoln Heights 36.
Jerome pointed at Ty. "That's what I'm talking about!"
Ty pointed back. "Keep feeding me, big man!"
On the bench, Marcus nudged Devon. "Yo, they're actually playing together out there."
"About time," Devon muttered, but he was smiling.
The game continued, and slowly, gradually, the chemistry started appearing. Not perfectly. There were still missed rotations and bad passes and moments where old habits crept back in. But more often than not, the ball was moving. Screens were being set. Players were communicating.
With four minutes left in the third quarter, Darius drove into the paint and kicked it to Connor in the corner. Connor shot-faked his defender, drove baseline, and kicked it back out to Marcus who had rotated to the top of the key. Marcus swung it to Ty on the opposite wing.
The ball had touched four different players in five seconds. Riverside Valley's defense was scrambling, trying to recover to each new threat.
Ty rose up and hit a three-pointer.
Riverside Valley 54, Lincoln Heights 45.
Nine-point game.
"Let's go!" The entire Lincoln Heights bench was on their feet now, not just the guys waiting to sub in, but everyone. They were clapping, shouting encouragement, feeding energy to the players on the court.
"That's how we do it!" Marcus was yelling from the sideline. "Keep moving it!"
Coach Martinez made a substitution, bringing in Devon and a couple other players. As Ty came off the court, Coach pulled him aside. "What changed out there?"
"Freshman convinced us to play like a team," Ty said, still breathing hard. "Said to try it for one game."
Coach looked at the court where Darius was directing traffic, pointing players to different spots, calling out screens before they happened. The game was still moving, the ball still flowing even with the new rotation.
The players who came in had seen what was working. They'd felt the energy shift from the bench. And without anyone explicitly telling them, they continued it. Devon set screens. The new guards made the extra pass. Communication happened naturally.
With one minute left in the third quarter, Lincoln Heights had cut the lead to six.
Riverside Valley 60, Lincoln Heights 54.
The Riverside Valley coach called timeout, his face showing frustration. His team had dominated the first half by exploiting Lincoln Heights' selfishness. Now that selfishness was gone, and his C-tier squad didn't have an answer.
Coach Martinez gathered his team during the timeout. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it. This is real basketball. This is how Elite Eight teams are supposed to play."
He looked directly at Darius. "Good leadership out there. Keep it up."
As they broke the huddle, Connor jogged next to Darius. "Yo, this is actually working."
"Because everyone's buying in," Darius said. "Everyone's trusting each other."
"Yeah, but you started it. You convinced them it was worth trying."
The third quarter ended with the score at Riverside Valley 62, Lincoln Heights 58. Four-point game. The atmosphere in the gym had completely flipped. What started as a potential blowout had become a legitimate contest.
On the bench, Coach Martinez sat down next to his assistant coaches. "You see what just happened?"
"The freshman changed the culture," Assistant Coach Williams said, shaking his head in disbelief. "In one game. Mid-game."
"That's not normal," the other assistant added. "Most players can't do that. Most players don't even think to do that."
Coach Martinez watched as Darius sat on the bench, not resting, but actively talking to his teammates about the next quarter. Pointing out what Riverside Valley was doing defensively. Suggesting counters. Encouraging guys who'd made mistakes.
"He's got something," Coach said quietly. "I don't know what it is yet. But that kid's got something special."
The fourth quarter was about to start. Four-point deficit. Eight minutes to complete the comeback.
And for the first time all game, Lincoln Heights looked like they actually believed they could do it.