The next three days became a blur of sweat, practice, and figuring out how to make three very different players work together like a well-oiled machine. Lucas, Jaylen, and Miguel met at the park every morning, determined to refine their game for the upcoming tournament.
On the first day, Lucas made it clear they'd focus on game situations. The scrappy chaos of their mock game from earlier in the week wasn't going to cut it if they wanted to win.
"All right," Lucas said, clapping his hands as the three of them stood on the court. "No more pickup-ball messiness. We've got to treat every possession like it's game day. Score goes to 21 in the tournament, so we're practicing with that in mind. Make good decisions, move the ball, and play defense."
Jaylen nodded, stretching his long arms above his head. "Got it. You want me running screens like last time?"
"Yeah," Lucas said. "We'll keep running screens until they prove they can stop us. And Miguel…"
Miguel raised an eyebrow, dribbling idly between his legs. "Yeah, what?"
"You've got to pass the ball," Lucas said bluntly, though he kept his tone light. "I know you've got the handles to get past defenders, but you're not gonna win games solo. If you see me open, hit me. Same for Jaylen. Ball movement's key."
Miguel sighed, scratching the back of his head. "I hear you, I hear you. I'll work on it."
And to Miguel's credit, he did. The first day was rough—Miguel still dribbled himself into trouble a few times, and Lucas found himself shouting "Pass!" more often than he'd have liked. But when Miguel did make the right plays, the results were undeniable.
"Nice feed!" Lucas shouted after Miguel zipped a pass to Jaylen, who caught it under the hoop and laid it in with ease.
"See what happens when you trust your teammates?" Jaylen teased, grinning as he jogged back on defense.
Miguel rolled his eyes but smiled despite himself. "All right, all right. Don't let it go to your head."
By the second day, things started clicking. They focused on spacing, making sure no one clogged the paint while someone else was driving. Lucas worked on positioning himself just outside the arc, ready for catch-and-shoot opportunities whenever Jaylen or Miguel drew defenders into the lane.
"You're like a sniper out there, man," Jaylen said after Lucas drained yet another corner three.
Lucas grinned, feeling the Bronze Catch & Shoot badge working to his advantage. "Just keep setting those screens, and I'll keep knocking them down."
Miguel's passing improved, though there were still moments where he hesitated, trying to dribble his way out of a double-team instead of kicking it out to the open man.
"Miguel!" Lucas barked after one such possession ended in a turnover.
Miguel threw up his hands. "What? I thought I had a lane!"
"You've got to trust us," Lucas said firmly, pointing to the wing where Jaylen had been wide open. "If they're crowding you, someone else is free. Make the pass."
Miguel exhaled heavily but nodded. "Yeah. My bad."
By the third day, their chemistry had noticeably improved. Jaylen and Lucas had their pick-and-roll plays down to a science, and Miguel's decision-making under pressure was far better than when they'd started.
They also worked on defensive rotations, taking turns guarding each other to simulate what they might face in the tournament. Lucas found himself constantly adjusting their positioning, making sure they were communicating and staying disciplined.
"Call out the screens!" Lucas shouted as Miguel tried to cut through a pick set by Jaylen.
"I see it!" Miguel yelled back, sliding around the screen to stay with his man.
"Better," Lucas said as they reset for another possession.
By the end of the session, all three of them were drenched in sweat but feeling confident.
"We're getting there," Lucas said, bouncing the ball as they gathered near the sideline. "Still some stuff to clean up, but we're starting to look like a team."
Jaylen nodded, his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. "Just wait till the tournament. They won't know what hit 'em."
Miguel grinned, wiping his face with his shirt. "As long as we don't choke, we've got this."
That evening, Lucas sat at the dining table with his parents, his plate piled high with arroz con pollo. Maria and Steven had been in good spirits lately, partly because of Lucas's dedication to basketball and partly because of the buzz surrounding the tournament.
"Have you seen the tournament info?" Steven asked, setting his phone down beside his plate. "They posted the brackets online. Thirty-two teams in the U14 division. Looks like they're doing a random draw to decide who plays who."
Lucas's eyebrows shot up. "Thirty-two? That's way more than I thought."
Maria nodded, pouring herself a glass of water. "It sounds like a big event. Are you ready?"
Lucas grinned. "We've been working on plays, defense, everything. We're getting better every day."
Steven leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You know how the scoring works, right? First team to 11 wins. No time limit, so it's all about being efficient with your possessions."
"Yeah," Lucas said, spearing a piece of chicken with his fork. "We've been practicing for that. Running plays to get easy buckets, keeping turnovers down. If we play smart, we've got a good shot."
Maria smiled, though there was a trace of concern in her eyes. "Just remember, it's not the end of the world if you don't win. Do your best, and that's enough."
"I know, Mom," Lucas said, his tone reassuring. "But I want to win. First place gets $200. Second gets $100, and third gets $50. It's not just about the money, though. It's about proving we can do it."
Steven chuckled. "You've got the right attitude. But remember what I said—teamwork wins games. You guys can't afford to go solo out there."
Lucas nodded, grateful for his dad's advice. "We're starting to figure it out. Miguel's still got a bit of a hero complex sometimes, but he's getting better."
Maria arched an eyebrow. "Hero complex?"
Lucas laughed. "He likes to dribble too much. We've been working on it, though."
"Well, as long as you're working together," Maria said.
Later that night, Lucas sat on his bed, scrolling through the tournament's official webpage on his phone. The full bracket wouldn't be released until the morning of the event, but the sheer number of teams made his stomach churn with equal parts excitement and nerves.
Thirty-two teams. That was a lot of competition. But Lucas knew they had put in the work. They'd prepared for this.
Setting his phone down, he stretched out on the bed and stared at the ceiling