Thursday Night Grind

The rhythmic bounce of a basketball echoed through the quiet neighborhood as Lucas jogged back home from school, his mind occupied with thoughts of practice, his own training, and the upcoming game against Lakeview.

A light autumn breeze rustled the leaves along the sidewalk, and for a moment, he allowed himself to just breathe. The grind never stopped, but there were moments—small ones—where he felt at peace.

He turned the corner and saw his house in the distance, warm light glowing through the windows. It still felt weird sometimes, being back in this home, this time, this body.

When he had first woken up as a 12-year-old again, the shock had been overwhelming. Now? He had adjusted. But moments like this still caught him off guard.

In his past life, by now, he had given up. His hoop dreams had died on a cold gym floor, the snap of his knee ending everything in an instant.

But now? Now, he had a second chance.

He exhaled slowly, then stepped up to the front door, shaking off the weight of those thoughts. No use dwelling on the past. Focus on what's ahead.

The scent of spices and slow-cooked meat filled the air as Lucas stepped into the house. His mom, Maria, stood by the stove, stirring a large pot of beef stew, while his dad, Steven, sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee.

Maria turned with a smile. "Mijo, just in time. Dinner's almost ready."

Lucas set his backpack down. "Smells good."

Steven raised an eyebrow over his coffee mug. "You actually coming home before dark for once?"

Lucas chuckled. "I'm gonna go train after dinner."

Maria sighed, shaking her head. "You never stop."

Lucas shrugged. "Can't afford to."

Steven leaned back in his chair. "You've been working hard, I'll give you that. But you do know there's more to life than basketball, right?"

Lucas met his dad's gaze, knowing the question wasn't meant to criticize but to check in.

"Yeah," Lucas said. "But basketball's what I got right now. And I don't want to waste this chance."

Maria set the ladle down and walked over, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We just don't want you burning yourself out, mijo."

Lucas offered a small smile. "I know. I promise I'm good."

His mom studied him for a moment before nodding. "Alright, but eat first. You can't be training on an empty stomach."

With a full stomach and fresh energy, Lucas made his way to the nearby Harrison Park courts, the cool air filling his lungs as he dribbled his basketball against the pavement. The streetlights illuminated the court just enough, casting long shadows as he settled into his solo training.

Tonight's focus? Tough shot-making and endurance.

Warm-Up Routine:

Dribble Moves (10 minutes) – Crossovers, hesitations, behind-the-backs. Keeping control tight.

Form Shooting (50 makes) – Focusing on mechanics from close range.

Midrange Work (50 makes) – One-dribble pull-ups, step-backs, floaters.

Three-Point Shooting (50 makes) – Catch-and-shoot, off-the-dribble, deep range.

Conditioning Finish:Full-Court Sprint into Layup (10 reps)

Suicides into Free Throws (5 reps)

Each shot, each rep, felt like a piece of something bigger.

He wasn't just shooting.

He was preparing.

The sweat dripped from his forehead as he pushed through the exhaustion, his body growing tired but his mind laser-focused.

With every made shot, he imagined Lakeview.

With every sprint, he thought about his past life.

The one where he never got this chance.

Where he sat on the sidelines, bitter, watching others play the game he loved.

Not this time.

Not ever again.

After an hour and a half of work, Lucas finally let himself breathe. His legs were heavy, his arms sore, but there was something satisfying about that.

The walk home was quiet, just him and his thoughts.

In his old life, he never would've done this—trained late at night, worked this hard. He had been too comfortable, relying on raw talent, thinking things would just fall into place.

But talent wasn't enough.

Work ethic, discipline, and the will to improve—that's what separated the good from the great.

And Lucas wasn't aiming to be good.

He was aiming for greatness.

As he reached his house, he stopped and looked up at the sky for a moment.

The past? It didn't own him anymore.

He took a deep breath, then stepped inside.

Tomorrow? More work. More progress.

Because the grind never stopped.

The gym buzzed with energy as the Lincoln Park Middle School Panthers finished their warm-ups, the sounds of sneakers screeching and basketballs bouncing filling the air. The week had been intense—practice after practice, film study, and individual work—but today was Friday, which meant one thing: scrimmages.

Lucas cracked his neck as he jogged toward the baseline where Coach Harrison stood, clipboard in hand.

"Alright, listen up," Coach called out, gathering the team. "We're a week away from our first game, and I need to see where we stand. Today, we're running full-court scrimmages, mixed squads again. You're not just playing to win—you're playing to prove to me that you belong on the court next week."

Miguel smirked, spinning the ball in his hands. "So basically, it's time to cook."

Jamal scoffed. "Man, last time we played, you got locked up."

Miguel rolled his eyes. "Once. And that was a fluke."

Jaylen clapped his hands. "Let's settle it now."

Coach nodded, flipping the clipboard. "Alright, teams are as follows."

Scrimmage Teams

Team A:

PG – Lucas Turner

SG – Dante Owens

SF – Jamal Watson

PF – Marcus Hall

C – Evan Price

Team B:

PG – Miguel Soto

SG – Trey Daniels

SF – Brandon Lee

PF – Jaylen Carter

C – Jordan Lewis

Lucas gave Miguel a look as they took their positions.

Miguel grinned. "Hope you like defense, 'cause I'm dropping buckets on you."

Lucas smirked. "We'll see."

Coach raised his whistle. "Four-minute quarters. Game on."

The ball went up, and Evan easily won the tip, tapping it to Lucas.

Lucas immediately pushed the pace, darting up the floor. Jaylen tried to cut him off, but Lucas faked left before slipping a no-look bounce pass to Jamal, who caught it and slammed home an easy layup.

"Damn," Trey muttered. "He really saw that?"

Miguel grabbed the inbound and immediately went into attack mode, crossing over Dante and bursting past him.

Lucas switched over to help, staying in front as Miguel stopped at the elbow and launched a fadeaway jumper.

Swish.

Miguel jogged back on defense, smirking. "Hand down, man down."

Lucas chuckled. "Alright, bet."

Both teams went at it, pushing the tempo and testing each other's defense.

Lucas fed Evan inside for two easy post buckets.Miguel hit a deep three off a Jaylen screen.Jamal threw down a putback dunk after Marcus missed a layup.Jaylen bullied his way into the paint, scoring through contact.

With 30 seconds left, the score was tied 18-18.

Lucas brought the ball up, his mind running through options.

Miguel locked in defensively, ready to cut off any easy passes.

Lucas signaled for a high pick-and-roll with Evan. As Evan rolled to the basket, Lucas saw the help defense collapsing on him.

Instead of forcing a pass, he pulled up from three.

Release. Spin. Net.

21-18. Game.

Miguel groaned. "Bro, you don't even shoot threes like that!"

Lucas smirked. "Had to hit you with the unexpected."

Coach blew the whistle. "Solid work. Take two minutes, then we switch squads."

Lucas sat on the bench, gulping water, his mind shifting from the game to something bigger.

If he wanted to make it, really make it, he needed money.

Lucas wiped the sweat from his forehead, thinking.

Basketball was everything to him, but if he wanted to go far, he needed resources—better training gear, travel money for tournaments, maybe even a personal trainer one day.

But how was a 12-year-old supposed to make money?

Job? Too young.

Selling sneakers? Didn't have enough cash to start.

Streaming? Maybe, but it'd take forever to build an audience.

Then it hit him.

If he played out of his mind, people would notice. Scouts, trainers, maybe even local sponsors. It wasn't the NBA, but it was a start.

Some kids got invited to elite basketball camps when they dominated. Camps meant exposure. Exposure meant opportunities.

Lucas clenched his fists.

That's the move. Stand out. Make noise. Get noticed.

Miguel plopped down next to him. "Bro, you good? You look like you're plotting world domination."

Lucas smirked. "Something like that."

Miguel laughed. "Just don't forget about me when you're famous."

Lucas bumped fists with him. "Only if you actually pass the ball."

Miguel groaned. "Man, here we go again."

Coach blew the whistle. "Alright, back on the court!"

Lucas stood up, shaking off his thoughts.

First, win these scrimmages. Then, take over the season.