He whipped the ball cross-court – a dart aimed perfectly at James, who had instinctively drifted to the opposite wing, finding that sweet spot of open space defenders always seemed to forget about. Smack! Clean catch. Instantly, the two defenders who had colpsed realized their fatal error.
"Shooter!" one yelled as they scrambled desperately towards him, arms filing like windmills.
James didn't rush. He gave a slight pump-fake, just a twitch of the ball. Both defenders bit hard, sailing past him like they were unched from a catapult. Cssic.
He took one calm, deliberate dribble – yeah, the handle wasn't elite, but it was functional now, less like he was dribbling a hot potato – rose straight up, picture-perfect form, and released.
Swish. Money. Again. You could practically set your watch by it.
Robi, down low fighting for position he didn't even end up needing, just stopped, craned his neck to watch the ball fall through, and let out a low whistle, shaking his head as a massive grin split his face. "Bruh! Seriously! Does that EVER get old?" he boomed as they jogged back. "I swear, watching you shoot is like watching a magic trick." So gd you're on our side, man.
Makes rebounding way less stressful!" he chuckled.
James allowed himself another flicker of a smile as he backpedaled onto defense. Hearing that directly from Robi, the team's anchor inside, felt… grounding. "Just gotta keep practicing," he replied, his voice steady, managing to cut through the lingering echo of the swish. Keep it about the work, keep it simple.
Don't let the noise get too loud.
The scrimmage didn't let up. If anything, it got more intense, but it was a focused intensity now. You could hear it constantly: "Cutter!" "Screen right!" "Got help!" "Switch!" Pyers weren't just running patterns; they were communicating, anticipating, adjusting on the fly.
Passes weren't just thrown; they were delivered with purpose, hitting teammates in stride. The off-ball movement was sharper, pyers cutting with the expectation that the ball might find them, especially when James drew extra attention. The whole energy level felt dialed up, locked in. They weren't just going through the motions; they were forging connections, building this intricate web of trust and movement, all centered around their quiet offensive engine.
And James? He wasn't just a shooter anymore. When the defense inevitably overcommitted – which happened a lot – he'd whip a surprisingly crisp pass to an open teammate. He'd use his length to disrupt passing nes, getting deflections or steals that seemed to come out of nowhere.
And subtly, almost invisibly, he'd guide teammates with a quick nod, a pointed finger, shifting the floor spacing without saying a word. His quiet presence was becoming its own form of leadership.
Even Captain Kiyoshi seemed to be evolving alongside the team. You could see him on the sidelines, arms folded, but looser, less likely to jump on every single mistake. He was letting them py through things more, especially when the offense flowed through James. It was like he was learning to trust not just James's ridiculous shot-making, but his court vision too, and trusting the other guys – Ahsan, Sajid, Robi, even the bench pyers – to make the right reads around James.
