Chapter 129 – Building the Foundation

The late afternoon sun filtered through the massive windows of the UCLA gym, casting golden streaks over the polished hardwood floor. The echo of basketballs bouncing and sneakers squeaking filled the space, as the team ran drills under Ryan's careful watch. He stood on the sidelines, clipboard in hand, absorbing every movement with intensity.

Though he was officially Assistant Coach Whitmore, the players had started calling him "Coach R." A sign of respect. A signal that he was no longer just the new guy learning the ropes, but someone they trusted.

He was earning his place.

"Alright, bring it in!" Ryan called out, his voice carrying through the gym.

The players jogged over, breathing heavy, sweat glistening on their foreheads. Jordan stood among them, already stepping up as a natural leader. The work they'd put in during their solo training month had paid off—Jordan was leaner, faster, sharper.

"Good hustle today," Ryan started, scanning the faces in front of him. "But this season is going to be a marathon. We've got more than just one tournament—there's the Fall Invitational in three weeks, the Holiday Classic in December, and if we do our job right, we'll make it to Nationals in spring."

The gym buzzed at the mention of Nationals.

Ryan continued, "Each of those is going to test us in different ways. Some games are about finesse. Others are about grit. But all of them come down to how well we play as a team. And that starts now."

A few players nodded. Others exchanged quick glances.

"I'm not here to be Coach Reilly's shadow," Ryan added. "I'm here to be your coach too. To push you. To challenge you. But also to have your back."

That earned him a few claps on the shoulder, and a couple grins.

As practice resumed, Ryan walked around the court, correcting footwork here, suggesting tweaks there. He took a moment to kneel beside one of the freshmen struggling with defensive rotations and showed him step-by-step. By the time the drill restarted, the kid was already improving.

Later, in the locker room, Ryan stayed behind with a few players who wanted extra shooting reps. That's when he really started seeing the layers—who had raw potential, who needed confidence, who played with heart even if the stats didn't show it yet.

That evening, after most of the players had cleared out, Ryan stayed behind with Coach Reilly, who had been quietly observing.

"You're settling in," Reilly said, tossing Ryan a towel. "The way they listen to you... that's not something you can fake."

Ryan took a breath and leaned against the wall. "I just want to earn their respect. Build something real."

"You're doing that," Reilly replied. "And they'll need you more than ever this year."

Ryan nodded. "We'll be ready."

As he stepped outside into the cooling evening air, Ivy was waiting for him just past the gym doors, leaning on a railing, holding two smoothies.

"Told you they'd warm up to you," she said with a soft smile, handing him one.

"They're getting there," Ryan replied, grateful for her presence. "Thanks for being here."

She bumped her shoulder lightly against his. "Where else would I be?"

They walked together across the campus, the buzz of the city in the background. Ryan glanced back at the gym once more, feeling the weight of something big beginning.

He wasn't just the kid from Rosehill anymore.

He was Coach Whitmore. And this was only the beginning.