Score: 17–17
Division Cup: Vorpal Basket vs. Roanoke Storm
The players huddled around Ethan, their jerseys damp with sweat, breathing sharp. The court lights above them burned hot. Fans shouted in the distance, but inside the circle — it was calm.
Coach Fred stood awkwardly at the back, still chewing on his protein bar, pretending to nod along.
Ethan knelt down in the center, clipboard resting on one knee. His tone was calm, yet sharp like steel.
Ethan said, "Listen up. We're not playing basketball their way anymore. From here on out… we don't match their rhythm. We shatter it."
The boys leaned in.
Louie frowned.
"You mean… like play messy?"
Ethan nodded once.
"Exactly. The Storm is clean. Surgical. They run off tempo predictability. So we strip that from them. We drag them into chaos."
Kai raised a brow.
"So we just start going wild?"
Ethan shook his head.
