Los Angeles | 2009
Patrick's POV
Life just seems so ethereal now. Ever since Dad and I shifted to L.A., I have found myself doing the most unexpected things. When we first came to the U.S., I always felt like an outsider. Even though I'm half-American, the lifestyle, the way people acted... it just didn't sit right. I guess Mum and Australia left a deeper mark on me than I thought.
The two years I spent in Milwaukee were just… grey. A time of letting life pass me by. A part of me still feels the emptiness from back then, but seeing Dad drinking away, I couldn't bring myself to be that hedonistic. He needed me. I had to be strong, to keep holding on.
But somewhere along the way, I completely forgot to enjoy myself. Two years in Milwaukee and not one friend to call my own. How pathetic. It was only when Dad got a job in L.A. that I found myself wondering if this would be any different.
When we landed and I saw our new home, I thought it was just more of the same. But then I met him. Leo. A cheeky, persistent bugger, that one. Even though I showed no interest in socializing, he dragged me to his pickup basketball games. In more ways than one, he forced a friendship on me, but it was one I couldn't deny myself reciprocating.
That friendship then led to me somehow being a small forward on my junior high basketball team. Trust me, mate, no one is more shocked by the bizarreness of it all than I am. I used to play rugby, for Christ's sake, and here I am now, tossing a ball into a net. But somewhere along that strange journey, I found friends, a love for the game, and finally, a life.
Are you listening, Mum? I'm happy. And I hope I will be for a long time to come.
The sound of the whistle brought me back to the present; we were in the middle of a jump ball. This was it. The final match of the year against the top seed in the tournament. A win here would be massive for our playoff positioning. I looked at my teammates. Bradley, Leo, and David were stoked, their faces alight with a fierce, focused energy.
I sized up our opponents. Brentwood Junior High. The name alone carried weight—a posh, elitist school where the rich and famous of L.A. sent their kids. They certainly looked the part. All the kids on that blasted team were on average taller than us. Their center was another African American kid, a mirror image of David in height and build. My assignment, the Caucasian kid, was a good couple of inches taller than me, with a wiry strength. This was going to be a real test. I love me some challenge.
The ref tossed the ball. The jump ball was won by the Brentwood team. Their point guard, one of the Latino kids, brought the ball up with a smooth, arrogant confidence that grated on me instantly.
The first quarter was a brutal, grinding war. It was a perfect match of attrition, where their physicality was competing with our skills. They tried to use their size advantage immediately, feeding their big center in the post. I watched as he tried to back David down, a clash of two titans, but David, his jaw set, held his ground, forcing a tough, contested shot that clanged off the rim.
We came back the other way, and Bradley immediately put us into our motion offense. He drove hard, drawing two defenders, and then whipped a pass to me on the wing. My taller defender closed out fast. I didn't hesitate; I just swung the ball to a cutting Leo. He caught it in stride, took one explosive dribble, and went up for a layup. The Brentwood center came over to block it, but Leo, mid-air, twisted his body, switching the ball to his other hand and finishing with a slick reverse layup that kissed off the glass and in. I was awed by his layup; the speed, the body control... it was a level of finesse I'd never seen from any of our opponents.
My guy tried to post me up on their next possession, using his height to try and bully me under the basket. It was a mistake. He might have been taller, but I had a lower center of gravity and years of rugby training. I held my ground, absorbing the contact with a grunt, and forced him into an awkward, off-balance hook shot that missed badly.
This time, the battle for the rebound was a chaotic scrum. I saw David get position, his body a solid wall, and just rip the ball out of the air from between two Brentwood players. I was awed by his rebounding; he didn't just get rebounds, he claimed them. It was like the ball belonged to him, and everyone else was just borrowing it.
We traded blows like that for the entire quarter. Every basket was earned. Every rebound was a street fight. Their guards were tall and could shoot, forcing us to close out hard on every possession. David and their center were locked in a colossal battle in the paint. Leo used his explosive speed to get past his taller defender, but their help defense was quick, forcing him into tough, contested shots.
And Bradley… Bradley was the conductor, trying to orchestrate our symphony of movement against their wall of size and strength. It was the hardest I'd seen him have to work all season. He hit a tough pull-up jumper with a hand in his face that quieted their bench for a moment.
The buzzer sounded, ending the quarter. I was gasping for air, a fresh scratch stinging on my forearm, but a grin was plastered across my face. This wasn't a blowout. This wasn't like the previous games. This was a real, honest-to-god fight.
End of First Quarter: Knights 11, Brentwood 12
The second quarter started, and the intensity, which I thought was already at its peak, somehow ratcheted up another notch. Bradley switched into what Leo called his "Blitz mode."
He wasn't just playing point guard anymore; he was a predator. He baited their guard, Mateo, into a lazy cross-court pass, and then just appeared in the passing lane, a blur of motion for a timed steal. He was gone. It became a perfect fast break in sync with Leo and David, a three-man weave of passes that ended with Leo laying the ball in before Brentwood knew what hit them.
The game got even more physical. Down low, David and the opponent center, Darius, were locked in a brutal war. After one particularly nasty shove from Darius on a rebound, David responded with a hard box-out that sent the big man stumbling. The ref's whistle blew. Double foul.
"You can't handle this, big man!" Darius yelled as they lined up for the in-bounds. "Just try and stop me," David growled back, his voice a low rumble.
The trash talk was infectious. My man, Kevin, was in my ear constantly. "You're out of your league, shorty."
I just smiled. On the next possession, the ball swung to me on the wing. I faked a shot, then drove hard to my right. As Kevin scrambled to keep up, I hit him with a hard crossover, a move I'd been drilling for weeks. He stumbled, his ankles crossed. It was a clean ankle break. I rushed into the open space he'd left, but their second man defense was already rotating over. Instead of forcing it, I stopped, pivoted, and nailed a still stunted but workable fadeaway jumper.
The surprise on my own teammates' faces was almost as satisfying as the basket. But my triumph was short-lived.
On their next possession, Brentwood ran a play for Kevin. He came off a screen, caught the ball on the three-point line right in front of me, and drained a perfect shot. He jogged backwards down the court, his eyes locked on mine. "You just sit tight and watch me wreck your team," he taunted.
Bradley answered with one of his impossible, contested three-pointers, but they came right back with a powerful drive from their other shooting guard, Javier. It was a back-and-forth brawl, our speed and skill against their size and relentless pressure.
The buzzer sounded for the half. I was breathing heavily, my body aching, but a wide, exhilarated grin was plastered across my face. This was a proper fight.
End of First Half: Knights 26, Brentwood 29
I was beginning to feel the stamina drain in my body, and it was then that Coach decided we needed a break.
"Listen up, boys, we are substituting," Coach Heath called out during the short break between quarters. "Pat, Marcus, David—you guys are too tired, so take some rest." I let out a grateful sigh, my lungs burning. "Bradley and Leo, you stay in but remember not to tire out early. We need to lead by at least four points for this strategy to work."
I took a seat on the bench between David and Marcus, chugging water as the third quarter began. And from the sidelines, I watched as Bradley and Leo put on what I can only consider to be a magic show.
It was like they were the only two players on the court, moving with a synergy that defied logic. The rest of our teammates on the floor understood their role: get the ball to Brad and Leo as soon as space is created. With Brentwood's point guard, Mateo, and their other guard, Javier, also benched, the Knights' duo had a clear advantage.
Bradley and Leo showcased how much a cut above the rest they were by throwing crazy passes at each other. On one play, Bradley drove the lane, drawing three defenders, and then, without even looking, flipped the ball behind his back to a cutting Leo for an easy score. I didn't even see the pass until it was already in Leo's hands. It was unreal.
But the opponent team was no less competitive. Their backup guard, a small, incredibly fast kid, used a dizzying crossover to get past one of our subs and scored on a beautiful, high-arching floater. A few possessions later, their power forward, Sean, hit a tough, fadeaway jumper over James that was pure skill. They were fighting, but they were fighting against a force of nature.
Bradley was also challenged by their center, Darius, who was a wall in the paint. Unable to get into the paint and score as much, Bradley simply switched to shooting from beyond the paint. He started pulling up from mid-range, his jumper automatic. Then, towards the end of the quarter, he entered his blitz mode again. He hit a three-pointer with a hand in his face. On the next possession, he came off a screen and hit another. The crowd was amazed by the back-to-back three-pointers.
Leo, still persistent, tried to take on Darius one-on-one, driving for a layup. But Darius was too tall and knocked the ball out of his hand.
"That all you got, big man?" Leo badmouthed him immediately, a defiant smirk on his face. "Gotta be overcompensating for other stuff being too small, huh?"
Darius's face turned thunderous. Leo had gotten into his head.
The buzzer sounded, ending the quarter. I looked up at the scoreboard. My smile had no boundaries at seeing how effective these two were.
End of Third Quarter: Knights 42, Brentwood 37
For the start of the fourth quarter, Coach Heath stated the inevitable. "Brad, Leo, you're benched. Patrick, Marcus, you're in with David."
I stood up and walked, understanding his strategy immediately. We had a three-point lead, and their starters, especially Darius, were exhausted. Coach Heath told us to employ an extreme passing and running strategy, a fresh wave of energy designed to run their tired opponents into the ground.
But stubbornly, the opposing Center Darius stayed in. He immediately got the ball on a post-up and scored a tough layup through contact. As he ran back, he jogged past our bench and sneered directly at Leo. "I guess everything about you is short, huh?" he taunted, his eyes flicking down. "Short height, short playtime, and that thing down there, too." He chuckled and kept running.
"Let me in, coach!" Leo furiously asked to be put in, jumping to his feet.
"Sit down, Johnson," Coach Heath denied it, his voice calm but absolute. "Don't let him get in your head. Our plan is working."
He was right. Our passing game was forcing Brentwood to chase, but they were a top-seeded team for a reason. They kept fighting, hitting tough shots, and slowly, our lead started to evaporate. With two minutes left, they hit a jumper that cut our five-point lead down to just two.
"Naird," Coach said quietly. "Get in for Adam. Settle them down. Win the game."
Bradley walked onto the court, the energy of the gym buzzing in our ears. He took the inbound and dribbled the ball slowly up to the other side, a deliberate, calming rhythm. He stopped at the top of the key, his eyes locking with Darius.
"You guys played great," Bradley said, his voice just loud enough for Darius and their guard, Mateo, to hear. "This is probably the most anyone has challenged us so far. But… it's not enough."
I saw the anger flare in Mateo's eyes. Brad positioned himself to shoot, and just as I'd predicted, Mateo leaped, desperate to make the heroic block. It was a pump fake. As Mateo came down, Brad rose up in the space he'd left and nailed a three-pointer.
The quarter accelerated from there. On our next possession, they double-teamed Brad. He used one of his bullet passes towards me, I found an open spot at the elbow and scored on a perfect mid-range jumper. A possession later, David finally won his physical altercation against Darius, ripping a rebound away from him and scoring on a powerful putback.
They were fouling now, desperate. But the momentum was ours. With thirty seconds left, Brad came off another screen from David and nailed another three-pointer, the final dagger.
The final buzzer sounded, sealing our hard-fought victory. It wasn't the humiliating beatdown from past matches, but a tough, grinding win against a worthy opponent. And somehow, this felt even better.
Final Score: Knights 58, Brentwood 55
All of us cheered into the air, we fought hard, played hard and won. This exhilaration and joy is what I felt missing in my life. Having it now and sharing this with my friends I could never put these feelings into words. I remembered my mum, I missed her. If she saw me right now she would leap with joy too…right?
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Let the Powerstone Barrage Begin