The heat of the midday sun bore down on the court as the Red Hawks squared off against the Northside Ballers. The two teams stood on opposite sides, their expressions locked in determination. The energy around the park had shifted—this wasn't the second round anymore. Every game now had the intensity of an elimination match, and the small crowd gathering near their court knew it.
Lucas glanced at his teammates. Jaylen looked calm as always, his tall frame loose but ready. Miguel, on the other hand, was bouncing lightly on his feet, his trademark smirk plastered across his face. Lucas didn't need to remind them to stay focused; they all knew what was at stake.
Across the court, the Northside Ballers were locked in a quick huddle. Their standout player, a lightning-fast guard with a cocky grin, was gesturing wildly, hyping up his teammates. Lucas had seen him play earlier, weaving through defenses like they weren't even there and hitting tough midrange jumpers with ease.
"That guard's gonna be trouble," Lucas said under his breath.
Miguel scoffed. "Let him try something. I'll clamp him."
Jaylen raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You sure about that? He looks like the kind of guy who eats clamps for breakfast."
Miguel rolled his eyes. "Relax. I got this."
Lucas smiled faintly. "Just stay on him. And if he starts cooking, we'll adjust."
The referee stepped onto the court, whistle in hand. "Alright, teams, you know the drill. First to 11 wins. Scoring by 1s and 2s. Call your own fouls, and keep it clean. Let's play."
The Ballers started with the ball, and it didn't take long for their star guard to make his presence felt. On the very first possession, he hit Miguel with a nasty crossover, slipping past him and pulling up for a midrange jumper that sailed cleanly through the net.
"1-0," the guard said, grinning as he jogged back on defense. "Better stay on your toes, kid."
Miguel clenched his jaw, dribbling the ball up the court. "Alright, let's go," he muttered.
Miguel attacked the guard on the next possession, using a quick hesitation move to get a step on him. He drove hard to the basket, finishing with a smooth layup.
"1-1," Miguel said, glaring at the guard.
But the guard wasn't rattled. On the next possession, he dribbled into the lane, drawing Lucas's attention before kicking it out to his teammate in the corner for an easy two-pointer.
"3-1," the guard called out, laughing. "Y'all better step it up."
The game stayed close as both teams traded buckets. Lucas hit a clean catch-and-shoot jumper off a Jaylen screen, and Miguel added another driving layup, but the Ballers' guard continued to wreak havoc. He hit floaters over Jaylen, dished out crisp assists, and even baited Miguel into committing a foul on a pump fake, earning a free throw.
"Man, this dude's annoying," Miguel muttered, wiping sweat off his face as the score climbed to 8-7 in favor of the Ballers.
Lucas clapped Miguel on the back. "Just stay with him. We're not out of this."
With the score tied at 9-9, the game was on a knife's edge. The crowd around the court had grown, and even Tim Hardaway had wandered over to watch, his sharp eyes taking in every play.
Lucas dribbled up the court, motioning for Jaylen to set a screen. Jaylen moved into position, planting his feet firmly as Lucas used the pick to get free. The Ballers' defenders scrambled to switch, leaving Miguel momentarily open on the wing.
"Ball!" Miguel called, clapping his hands.
Lucas fired a sharp pass to Miguel, who caught it in stride and jab-stepped, forcing his defender to backpedal. Miguel hesitated for a split second, then dribbled toward the baseline, drawing two defenders with him.
"Back to me!" Lucas shouted, slipping into open space at the top of the arc.
Miguel whipped the ball back out, and Lucas caught it cleanly, his feet set for the shot. He faked, forcing the Ballers' guard to close out hard, then quickly passed to Jaylen in the post.
Jaylen backed his defender down, pivoting smoothly as he looked for an opening. When the defense collapsed, he kicked the ball out to Miguel in the corner.
Miguel caught it, but his defender was all over him. He dribbled out of trouble, then passed back to Lucas near the wing.
"Reset!" Lucas called, bouncing the ball as he scanned the defense. The Ballers were scrambling but still holding firm, their guard locking eyes with Miguel as if daring him to make a move.
Jaylen stepped forward, setting another screen to give Lucas space. This time, Lucas used the pick to swing the ball back to Miguel, who quickly passed it back to Jaylen as he rolled to the basket.
Jaylen caught the ball but immediately saw two defenders closing in. He turned and fired a pass back to Lucas, who was now wide open at the left wing.
"Take it!" Jaylen shouted.
Lucas caught the ball in rhythm, his Bronze Catch & Shoot badge activating as he squared up and released the shot.
The ball soared through the air, spinning perfectly before snapping through the net.
"Game!" Lucas shouted, pumping his fist as the crowd erupted in cheers.
Miguel ran over, grabbing Lucas by the shoulders and shaking him. "That's what I'm talking about! Ice in your veins, man!"
Jaylen grinned, offering Lucas a fist bump. "Clutch shot. Perfect setup, too."
Lucas nodded, his heart still pounding. "That was all you guys. Perfect screens, perfect passes. Team effort."
Across the court, the Ballers gathered near their bench, their heads hanging low. Their star guard shook his head in frustration, muttering something under his breath.
Lucas walked over, extending a hand. "Good game."
The guard hesitated for a moment, then shook Lucas's hand. "Yeah… good game. You guys are tough."
As the Red Hawks walked off the court, the buzz of the crowd followed them. Lucas caught sight of Tim Hardaway on the sidelines, nodding approvingly as he clapped along with the spectators.
Miguel noticed too, nudging Lucas with his elbow. "Hardaway's still here. Think he saw that shot?"
Lucas smiled faintly, his chest swelling with pride. "Maybe. But even if he didn't, we're one step closer to the finals."
Jaylen slung an arm around both of them, grinning. "Semifinals, boys. Let's keep it rolling."