After hearing the final buzzer, I fell on my knees, my whole teammates swarming me, the whole school going nuts. This was it, this is why I train. This is what I overwork myself for.
Commentator 1: and with that, we conclude this emotional rollercoaster of a match.
Commentator 2: rollercoaster indeed. One second memorium were all over starling and the next, starling wonder kid took over.
Commentator 1: and not just that, with the information reaching me now, he seems to be the MVP of the game.
Commentator 2: took him less than a half to display a master-class. A wonder kid indeed.
Commentator 1: and not just him, every single player put on a show, the light, the rainmaker, even the wall. They all did. This is a victory you call well deserved.
Look, I'm not one to complain, but come on, compare the names. Why am I stuck with kid?.
Jensen: second MVP in a row, you're on a crazy streak rival of mine
Me: (laughing) I told you I'll be coming for that top dog.
Jensen: (laughing) continue like this and you will.
Me: uhhh, did our boss just confess to me being a threat?.
Jensen: (laughing) yes he did.
Me: damn, must have taken a lot.
Jensen: (laughing) go meet up with coach, they're about to hand you with your MVP award.
Me: the cheap plastic?.
Jensen: the cheap plastic.
Me: okay captain.
The principal of the school along with coach fuckface and memorium's coach took pictures with me while handing over the award. It wasn't just a cheap plastic like I called it earlier, it was evidence of my genuis. We eventually got to the handshake part where opposing teams exchange handshakes and after that I just wanted to make my way to the shower.
Jensen: where you headed to?
Me: shower?.
Jensen: your woman wants to see you.
Me: are you the messenger?.
Jensen: I don't even know anymore at this point. Things we do for the ones we love I guess.
Me: (chuckling) where she at?.
Jensen: at the VIP stand. Just go straight. They also have a special shower section there
Me: mahnnn, why didn't you just start with that?.
I made my way to the higher grounds reserved for the VIPs, was a lot more quiet over there, compared to the noise the students were making on the court
I found Tephnine looking as divine as she normally does, while repping quite expensive clothing's. This girl sometimes.
Tephnine: wonder kid of mine
The voice she used in saying this made me knew at that point that every effort I made and every torture coach put me through were all worth it.
The smile she beamed at me, my God, I'm a lucky guy. I walked up to her with confidence holding my gold painted plastic award.
Me: I got this for you, babe. It's light, but it represents the fruit of all my efforts.
She didn't take the trophy, but her eyes never left mine. And the next thing I knew, She reached up, not for the trophy, but for the back of my neck, pulling my sweaty, victorious face down to hers.
The kiss was sudden, deep, and utterly possessive, I'll be calling this my private reward delivered far from the screaming masses. When she pulled back, her eyes were bright and fierce.
Tephnine: remember babe, You play for me, No one else, just me.
This wasn't the Tephnine I knew, but I knew one thing for certain, I'm seated for this new self. She went on with her hands still lingering on my neck.
Tephnine: That control, that arrogance, that brilliant move waving off the play, that is what I pay attention to. I watch every single move you make. You can keep the plastic trinket, I prefer you just showing the school what you really have to offer. And showing me you belong to me.
Speechless I was, love bounded I also was. Next thing I know, She stepped back to retrieve a small designer bag.
Tephnine: Now, we're going to a quiet dinner, and you're gonna tell me exactly how you used your superior intellect to crush both Starfield and Memorium. I want every single Intel from my man.
I offered Tephnine my hand, knowing the high stakes of her affection, and knowing she's probably the only one who wants the best for me
Me: Lead the way, boss. Let's go discuss my next opponent.
I won't be saying much in how the dinner went, just know we had a happy ending.
THE NEXT DAY, LUNCH BREAK****
The high from the victory was still humming through the hallways, and the word 'genius' had replaced 'fluke' in the school's vocabulary. I still felt the imprint of Tephnine's kiss, a reminder that my charge to the top wasn't just for me anymore, I had a new, demanding audience to please.
Team 11 decided to meet up at the cafeteria to continue from where we never started the day before.
Barry Cooper: So, the dock has two plastic accolades now, I assume you're feeling superior.
Me: oh hell yeah I am. Felt too easy.
Barry Cooper: of course It felt easy to win when the defense were busy chasing your sloppy dribbling.
Me: are you being deadass right now?. Sloppy dribbling?. That was all calculated exploitation Barry. But you wouldn't understand. Your brain is only capable of processing information within the pages of a book, not reality.
I wasn't just done, I needed something to hurt more. I needed something that landed squarely on Barry's academic pride.
Me: In fact, You're not a bookworm, Barry. You're just a Lexicon Larva, a plump, pale grub that feeds exclusively on dead words. You only emerge from your textbooks long enough to look confused by actual talent.
Barry's face went white beneath the cafeteria lights. That one hit deep, I could tell by the way he was clenching his fist.
Barry Cooper: You're a brute, Keima. A one dimensional idiot who can't see past the buzzer! Your grades are only salvaged by your athletic exemption. We both know you don't have the ability to survive the baticadious.
Me: (laughing) who said I did?. I just plan on leeching of you guys. I'm a parasite. I'll always find the easy way outta things.
Barry cooper: can you hear your self speak?. Is this the plan you have for your already crumbling future?.
Me: I guess. While you work your Brain out in a 9 to 6 business, I get drafted by a national basketball body. Like I said earlier. Easy way out.
Cynthia: okay, that's enough. Keima, you're not doing much to repair your already damaged image.
Me: (laughing) I know, sorry. But then again, what's the rush?. The text won't take place for another 3 months. Can't we just take our time and take things slow.
Chiamanda: unfortunately we can't.
Me: we defo can.
Barry cooper: I don't expect you to understand why we can't take breaks, you look like you've been taking em all your life.
Me: Amanda, do I need to reply?.
Chiamanda: no you don't. Barry please let's just focus.
Well what can I say?, we didn't, we ended the meeting with me choosing to use the first month of ours to teach them girly things and them using the second to prepare me thoroughly.
AROUND A MONTH LATER****
Coach fuckface: this is going to be the biggest game any of you have ever partook in all year. These guys are something of rivals to not only us, but Mr white West himself. They are fat bigger than memorium and even starfield.
Me:(whispering to Jace) exactly how many rivals do we have?.
Jace: we get new ones everyday, don't worry, you'll get used to it.
Coach fuckface: we will be traveling to Delta state today, with the match taking place tomorrow, Saturday.
Me: sorry coach, but what's the match about?, it just came outta the blue.
Coach fuckface: oh I keep forgetting it's your first year here. It's a charity event between our school and a school called Victory Academy. On the surface it's a normal charity match, but when you look below.
Jensen: it's just scary.
Jace: I don't even want to remember the events of last year.
Coach fuckface: the owner of victory academy is a man called Okoro, he's something of a business rival to Mr Dhark, and since they can't act like matured men and settle things themselves, they put pressure on their respective teams expecting victories. Trust me, we are allowed to lose every match except this, the repercussion of last year defeat is something I can't forget.
Matt: almost made me quit the team as a whole.
Me: okay that's depressing, I don't wanna partake in this.
Coach fuckface: too late wonder kid, you've been eating from the cake of fame, you'll have to pay the price of it.
Me: why do you make it sound like I sold my soul or something?.
The team, half the cheerleaders, and a bunch of specially selected students were picked for the travelling. This was the first time I'll be playing far from our state. The journey to Delta took approximately 4 to 5 hours, and the journey to Victory College took an extra hour. We arrived at exactly 5:35 pm. I will be sharing the story of our journey another time.
Now when coach said this man was a business rival of Mr white, he wasn't kidding. This school was going band for band with starling. Every single inch and square of the school was divine, just exquisite.
A security man ushered us to private rooms made specially for us, although we were made to stay five per room. Coach ensured to put the starting line up in one room. Jensen, Jace, Matt, Damian and me. I haven't introduced Damian. Just know he's a cool guy, our senior too.
AROUND 6:47 PM*****
Damian: these guys aren't your typical run off the mill players. From what I hear none of them fully school here.
Me: What'd you mean by that?.
Damian: he goes around just recruiting any talent he sees and offer them full scholarship. No strings attached.
Me: no strings?.
Damian: you don't need to worry about your academics, whatever you do as a honour student gets swept under the rug.
Me: the fuck?, where can I sign up?.
Damian: I'm being serious right now.
Me: I know, that's why I was trying to jeer you up.
Jensen: (walking in) meet up in their basketball court, coach wants us to run drills.
Damian: okay, we'll meet up.
Me: wait up for me, I don't know the way.
Again, their basketball court was a lot more lavish than ours. What kind of absurd rivalry is this?. It didn't even take 7 minutes for the students of victory Academy to start pouring out, I think they wanted to watch us train. These fucking useless bunches. We spent the next 10 minutes doing pushups and other 'light' exercises before coach moved to drills. About 40 mins later.
Coach fuckface: Rhys, Dario, Anayo, Milo and Asher, you're team wolves. Jensen, Jace, Matt, Keima and Damian, you're team motive.
Me: (whispering) motive?. The fuck.
Coach fuckface: remember, this is just a training match, no rough play, no aggressiveness, leave all that for tomorrow. Today, just stick to the drills and tactics I've giving out. Don't worry about them spying on us. Just show them they'll need a lot more to go against us. Are y'all ready?.
Team: yes coach
Coach fuckface: now break, every one to your positions. It started with six, then twelve and before I knew it, the stands were filled with a shit ton of their students, mostly girls though. You know what that mean right?. I'm about to perform a master-Class.
I stood beside Jensen and Jace at the baseline. We were the Vipers of the motive team.
Jensen clapped twice, the sound sharp and commanding, cutting through the low mumbles of the crowd. He was already in Captain mode. He had his shoulders squared, focus like a laser. He was Perfection. Gosh, God did take a break to specially create this bastard.
Jace, our Rainmaker, just bounced the balls off his feet, eyes fixed on the distant hoop. He was looking at it like a sniper with his scope on its target.
As for Me, I was the bridge. The chaos. The necessary disruption that linked their perfect lines.
Coach fuckface: Full court, five-on-five,
Jensen: motive!. Press break, transition, and finish. Let's go!.
The match kicked off with Matt snagging a rebound and instantly hitting Jensen with the outlet pass. Jensen's passes weren't about speed, they were about pin point accuracy. The ball arced from his hands, perfectly weighted, traveling to the waiting Jace on the wing.
The rivals in the stands leaned forward, hungry for a show. Rhys, playing point for the Wolves, was glued to Jace, anticipating the three-pointer he's famous for. Even Anayo stopped his casual trash talk to watch.
But Jace didn't shoot. He delivered a sharp-shooter's pass, a quick, horizontal whip that shot across the court, straight to me.
I'd been running the weak side, silent and fast, and the ball was suddenly in my hands, a jolt of energy. For a split second, I saw the confusion on Milo's face. The big center had been pulled wide by Jensen and now couldn't recover. The lane was open. This was mine, I took one aggressive stride, all instinct and fury, and drove straight into the paint. I didn't lay it up. I didn't need to be technically flawless. I needed to send a message to the beautiful eyes watching me right now. I took to the air and slammed the ball down with a two-handed, ferocious dunk that rattled the entire backboard.
The pass was perfect, but the finish?, that was all hunger. I landed, let the noise echo, and smirked at Jace as I jogged back, he nodded back to me as if understanding what I was going for.
Next, we focused on defense. The Wolves ran a weave, trying to force a mistake in our half-court coverage.
I watched Jensen and Jace work. They moved with an unnerving synchronization. Jensen read the play with his mind, calling out rotations like a chess master. Jace tracked it with his eyes, a deadly sniper waiting for a mistake. They cut off every logical angle, forcing the Wolves' movement to become stiff and predictable. They were perfect. Their teamwork was nothing short of top notch.
Asher tried to thread a pass to Milo. Jensen stepped to the left, poised to intercept with textbook form. He had it. The steal was his. But I saw the flicker. The hesitation in Milo's eyes, the moment he thought about cutting back, I can't explain It but my next move was something new even to me, the feeling was different, It wasn't like logic, it was just a raw, unreadable instinct. I darted in, using my chaotic speed, and tipped the pass to myself, swatting it out of the lane just a hair before Jensen could execute his perfect steal. I didn't steal it cleanly, I disrupted it. The ball bounced away, and Matt, our wall and our designated hustle man was there to scoop it up and ignite a quick break.
As I sped past, Jensen didn't glare at me for interfering. He just slapped my hand, a quick, hard high five before turning his focus back to the retreating defense. It was a silent, essential acknowledgment. I guess he really wasn't joking about taken this rivalry serious.
Coach made just one rule: 'The first team to score five baskets won the training match.'
We kept on with this till three other teams were beaten by us.
Taken things to to last team who were aggressively shuffled by coach. James, John, Rhys, Dan and Milo, our second best starters. The game wasn't as easy as we would have hoped for it to go but It turned out in our favour. The last basket made was the highlight of the match.
For the basket before that, I started, passing to Jensen. He hit Jace with his signature, mathematically precise pass. Jace took a mid-range jumper and swished it. It was too easy.
Jensen: Again!, Faster!
With the pressure of being one basket away from loosing, James team started attack with pressure and it didn't take much of an effort for Damian to steal the ball. He swiftly released it to me and I passed to Jensen, who fired back to Jace. Within two seconds Jace hit me with another bullet pass. Now I was at the top of the key, facing Rhys, who was watching my every move. I stole a peek at the stands and I saw some of their teachers also watching us. I knew one thing for sure at that point, we needed to send a final message and the final message has to be the clearest one.
I didn't just pass. I dribbled hard at the three-point line, facing Rhys down. I dropped a crossover that was unnecessarily flashy and theatrical, forcing Rhys to commit a step backward. I created the space, not with speed, but with the sheer nerve to show off. Then I rose, pulling up for a high arcing step-back jumper from mid-range.
The shot sailed high, perfect trajectory, and swished through the net with a satisfying snap.
I won't just stick to being the provider, I'll also be the destroyer. The sound of the swish was the loudest noise in the court. It cut through the silence of the rival students who were finally realizing that the team they were about to play wasn't just talented, they were an unstoppable, connected machine.
Jensen and Jace walked over, not saying a word, just giving me a shared nod. Ready.
The coach's whistle blew, ending the drill. The warm-up was over.
The guns have been loaded, the enemies are in sight. Now it's time for war.
TO BE CONTINUED******