The gym buzzed with a different kind of energy that afternoon—tense, focused, electric. It was the last practice before the finals, and every player on the team knew it. Coach Daniels stood in the center of the court, clipboard in hand, eyes scanning the boys as they warmed up with crisp layups and quick passes.
"Bring it in!" he called, his voice booming across the gym.
The team jogged over and circled around him, sweat already glistening on their foreheads. Ryan and Ben stood shoulder to shoulder, both feeling the weight of what was ahead—and the pride of what they'd achieved so far.
"We're not just playing for a win," Coach began, looking each of them in the eye. "We're playing for respect. For growth. For each other. And I couldn't be prouder of how far you boys have come."
There was a beat of silence before he added, "Ryan. Ben. You're in the starting five."
Ryan blinked. For a second, the words didn't register. Then his chest tightened with a mix of excitement and nerves. He caught Ben's eye and grinned as his friend grinned right back, the both of them trying—and failing—not to look too pleased.
"You've earned it," Coach said simply. "Now let's talk strategy."
They moved over to the bleachers, where a projector had been set up to play tapes of the opposing team—Oakridge High, known for their aggressive offense and relentless pressure.
"Watch number 14," Coach pointed out as the footage rolled. "He's fast, unpredictable, but he gets frustrated when pressured. If we force turnovers early, we break their rhythm. Ryan, you're sticking to him like glue."
Ryan nodded, locking in.
Ben leaned forward, studying their center—a tall, muscular player who dominated the paint. "He leaves the left side open when he spins," Ben pointed out.
Coach smirked. "Good eye. That's where you come in."
Practice was different this time. It wasn't about drills or running laps—it was tactical. They ran through set plays, broke down weaknesses, and sharpened every movement like a blade. Ryan felt more connected to the team than ever—there was a flow now, a trust. Every time he called for the ball, it was there. Every time Ben called a screen, Ryan moved without hesitation.
"You've grown a lot," Coach told them during water break. "Not just in skill—but as teammates. That's what wins games."
As practice wrapped up, Coach gathered them once more.
"Tomorrow, we play at Oakridge," he said. "Their court, their crowd. But that doesn't change who we are. You stick to the plan, trust each other, and I promise—we can win this."
Ryan looked around at the guys—faces full of sweat, hope, and grit. He wasn't the new kid anymore. He was part of something. Part of a team.
As they packed up, Ben bumped his shoulder lightly against Ryan's.
"Starting five," he grinned.
Ryan chuckled. "Let's make it count."
Outside the gym, the evening sun painted the sky in soft orange. As the boys headed home, one thing was clear—the real game started tomorrow. And they were ready.