The locker room door swung open and the Ironwood players stumbled in, sweat dripping, lungs burning. The noise from the arena faded behind them, replaced by the low hum of the overhead lights and the steady sound of heavy breathing.
Tank dropped onto the bench first, his jersey clinging to his shoulders. "Man, that first half felt like a whole season," he muttered, grabbing a towel.
Ethan sat beside him, rubbing his wrists. "They move like machines. You make one mistake, they punish it."
Tyler paced in front of his locker, shaking his head. "We had them. Twice. But every time we pull ahead, they crawl right back in."
Jaden sat in silence, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. His chest still heaved from the last possession, but his mind was miles away, replaying every shot, every pass, every second of hesitation.
He could still hear the echo of the ball hitting the rim on Ray's last shot. The miss that kept the score tied. It wasn't relief he felt, though. It was pressure.
Coach Hale stepped into the room a moment later, clipboard in hand. The players straightened up, but he didn't speak right away. He just walked slowly to the center of the room, his eyes sharp and focused.
When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, steady, almost quiet. "You know what I saw out there?"
No one answered.
"I saw a team fighting," Hale continued. "I saw heart, hustle, and pride. But I also saw moments where we lost who we are."
He set the clipboard down on the bench, his tone sharpening. "Southpoint doesn't play emotional basketball. They play intelligent basketball. Every pass, every screen, every step is planned. They don't care about highlight plays or crowd noise. They care about efficiency. You want to beat a team like that? Then you match their mind with your discipline and their patience with your trust."
Tank nodded slowly, still catching his breath. "So we slow it down?"
Hale shook his head. "No. You stay aggressive. But you stay smart. There's a difference."
He turned to Jaden. "Hunter. You've done a lot out there. You've led well. But leadership isn't just fire. It's control. Ray Hale's trying to pull you into his pace. Don't let him. You dictate the rhythm."
Jaden lifted his head, meeting Hale's gaze. "I got you, Coach."
Hale's eyes softened slightly. "Good. Because this second half is where leaders are made."
He looked around the room, making eye contact with each player. "Tyler. Keep shooting. If you're open, you take it. No hesitation."
Tyler nodded. "Yes, Coach."
"Ethan. Keep talking on defense. You're the anchor. Tank, stay big inside. Make them feel every rebound."
Tank cracked a grin. "They gonna feel it, Coach."
The tension in the room loosened slightly. A few quiet laughs broke through. Hale let it breathe for a moment before speaking again.
"Listen," he said, voice lower now. "Whatever happens out there, you've already earned the right to be here. Every scout, every fan, every opponent knows Ironwood now. But that doesn't mean anything if you stop now. So finish it. Together."
He stepped back, letting the silence settle. The players sat still for a moment, letting the words sink in. Then Jaden stood, rolling his shoulders, eyes sharp again.
"Let's finish what we started."
The team rose with him. No yelling. No big speeches. Just the quiet sound of sneakers tightening and tape wrapping around wrists.
Hale watched them with a faint, approving smile. "Ten minutes, Hawks. Make them count."
As the players headed toward the tunnel, Jaden lingered for a second longer, staring at his reflection in a locker mirror. His chest was still rising and falling fast, but his eyes were steady.
Ray Hale might have control, but he had something else.
Something no stat sheet could measure.
Heart.
He took a breath, grabbed his towel, and followed the team out.
The second half waited.