Two starkly contrasting styles of play developed inside the blacktop court as the race to 21 points progressed.
One team used the synergy and strategy of an organized basketball team, making fluid half court plays, and moving the rock seamlessly.
The other was a wonderful exhibition of individual talent. A lot more isolation, but more excitement, and more creative individual freedom.
Tremaine didn't think, at first, that their opponents would fully buy into this streetball style, so he intended for his team to do a more team oriented style. But with the game almost halfway in, Tre was slowly regretting his oversight...
Well there's no going back now.
After Sean Nguyen sank a jumper with Tre all over him, their lead had gone up to two, 11-9.
Sean's teammate Kristian started the next possession, with a pass to the corner to DJ. He did not fit the streetball mold, since he was never the type to dazzle individually, and was more of a complementary scorer, and facilitator.
He was the true definition of a great, low usage role player in high school, that hits threes, defends well, and makes plays at both ends of the floor.
Although the opportunity to shine individually was presented to him this way, he still had trouble making much use of it, because he was never a good isolation kind of player.
Deshaun had been hounding him from the start, knowing that Kristian had been almost invisible this game. Sometimes, he gives ample help when the ball handler gets to his side. But he expended most of his energy on offense, where their motion offense was on full display.
Kristian resolved himself to try though.
He attacked Deshaun's right side, using his left hand as a shield, and his deceptively quick first step.
However, what waited for him was Tremaine Mills, outstretched hands from the other side.
'Fuck! I didn't see it!'
Tremaine swiped the ball away, taking advantage of Kristian's loose ball handling. But luckily for Kristian, Sean Nguyen was there to fight for the ball back!
Tremaine knew what could happen, and was ready for it.
He tipped the ball out to the three point line, and in classic Deshaun Richardson fashion, he was at the right place, at the right time.
Friends are forever.
"Nice tip!" Deshaun then straight away launched a jumper from behind the line.
Splash!
The game was tied at 11.
Curtis Walters inbounded the basketball and just passed it to Tremaine instantly.
As he scanned the field, he realized that his team was stagnating. Both Curtis and Samuel had been struggling to even hold the ball for more than a second, and Tarik was unreliable at best with the ball in his hands.
Deshaun was the only safety net for his team.
Tremaine couldn't muster a sigh of relief, and focused on the task at hand.
He swung the ball over to Deshaun, and called for an off-ball screen from Samuel, to get the mismatch with Quandre.
Should I just start attacking Quandre under my own terms?
A devious smile slowly started to creep on Tremaine's face as he moved far back out to beyond the three point line, where he received the ball again from Curtis.
"Shoot now, Tre." Quandre started talking trash. "Release your inner selfish demon."
"If I shoot you'll regret it." Tremaine was looking Quandre straight in the eye, without breaking his dribble. He was directing traffic, isolating himself and Quandre in the right wing.
Quandre was squatting, his arms wide, showing his entire muscular wingspan.
"Try me." Quandre was combative.
"Hehe." Tremaine sped up his dribble, and attacked his right near the baseline. Once he was side by side with Quandre, he suddenly stopped his momentum with a hesitation dribble.
"Urgh!" Quandre was strong, but he was not a fast defender. He was barely able to stop his momentum when Tremaine angled to attack his other side, while he was still facing the other way.
He forcibly tilted his body around, only to find himself tripping on his own foot, and Tremaine once again going another way.
'Huh?'
Tremaine was already on his way to the rim once Quandre's back crashed into the hot cement court. He was utterly confused, and yet, thrilled at the same time.
Play stopped right after Tre laid it into the basket with a high arcing layup.
All of the players standing at the side came over to the court and helped their brother up. Tremaine got back to Quandre too, along with everyone on the court.
"Man, you alright?" Khalil was always the first responder. "Sam, can you check in on him?"
"I'm a rich, first aid guy, excuse me!" Finally, the certificates Samuel earned in his free time could be put to use. That was among his proudest accomplishments in his life. "Quandre, you might have demolished me on the asphalt courts, but I'll still check on you."
"Don't kill him, amigo!" His close friend Miguel chuckled.
"Nope, only a couple of scratches on the elbows and arms. Nothing to worry about."
"No need for shit like stitches right?" Quandre was already up, but despite his massive size and thug-like attitude, he's absolutely terrified of needles.
"Hmmm…" Samuel acted like he's thinking about it carefully.
"Fuck you!"
At the sidelines, assistant coach Atkins was excited about the real reason why Quandre tripped himself up. All of them saw it, even the players on the floor, since they were pretty much on the same side of the court.
The smaller guard took a hesitation dribble, feinted to switch his attack to the left, before moving back to the right in one sequence. Atkins thought that if it wasn't a fast, deceptive dribble, and a convincing fake, Quandre wouldn't have stumbled.
But it had to be a low inside-out dribble.
Quandre managed a last gasp swipe before he stumbled, but it was in vain, since Tremaine's inside-out dribble utterly destroyed his chances in one fell swoop.
What a nasty ankle breaker.
Atkins had no doubt that the head coach liked what he saw. Quandre had been a street baller and someone without much experience in it sent him reeling to the ground and murdered him.
Once Quandre was up and running again, the game resumed, with Tre's team taking the lead of the game.
Inwardly, Tremaine was thrilled. A move like that shouldn't work against an opponent who's as locked in as Quandre.
He'll take it.
Their team will win.
***
Extras:
Samuel Andrews was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
He knows that he's not the only one struggling so badly, but his intuition was telling him that he might be suffering the worst.
It's not like he chose to not be able to play ball in the streets.
Their house was situated in the middle of a massive farm of more than 100 hectares. And within the massive clearing that had their house, along with several more structures, was a hardwood court— where he, and most of the people close to the family, played basketball in their free times.
Oh shoot.
Samuel Andrews forgot that Quandre Thornton was backing down on him.
GG.
Why do I have to guard this guy of all people???