The whistle blew again, marking the start of the match against Jason's team. The atmosphere in the gym grew heavier, as if everyone knew this game would be different. Murmurs spread through the stands, and excitement was palpable.
Jason advanced confidently, dribbling with the air of a predator, a dominant male. Behind him, a solid boy and girl completed his team. Their formation was clearly built on complementarity. On our side, we had speed, coordination, and above all... strategy.
Mia, fast and precise, moved the ball with agility, easily dodging defenders. Isabella, calm and calculating, controlled the spacing and positioning with almost surgical instinct. As for me, I spent the first few minutes observing, analyzing their weak points. I didn't care about their game; I had a plan. Jason would be the key — he just didn't know it yet. I think I had him figured out.
Jason, with his calm and confident demeanor, tried a quick drive by forcing his way through, slightly pushing me with his shoulder. I didn't react, but I noted the strength in his play.He said:— Hope I didn't hurt you.I replied:— Not at all. Honestly, I don't feel any power coming from you.
He smiled at my words. Was it fair play? No. It was personal. I wanted to trash talk.
— You're good, but you're not on my level. Who can touch me? he said with a cocky grin after scoring. Mia and Isabella looked worried seeing that.
Isabella said:— We're falling behind. If this keeps up, catching up will be much harder.
I just responded with a calm smile. The kind of smile that relaxes you and inspires confidence.
Mia intercepted a poorly aimed pass and ran along the sideline. I positioned myself near the basket, drawing a defender. Isabella seized the opening and slipped through unnoticed. Mia made a quick, accurate pass. Isabella caught it and scored effortlessly. Two points. Our supporters cheered.
Jason smiled. He didn't like being put under pressure. On the next turn, he attempted a long-range shot. I intercepted the ball and ran. He chased me.— You're going nowhere, he said.
To shake him off, I did an ankle breaker. He fell. I dunked while he was still on the floor.— Stay down. That's where you belong, I said.
I could see a vein bulge on his face. His teammate threw him the ball, and he headed to the basket again. I followed and whispered:— No wonder Mia doesn't want a loser like you.
The ball bounced off the rim. I grabbed it quickly.— Bad stance, bad timing. You should give up on Mia, I whispered again, just loud enough for him to hear.
The provocation made him furious. I saw the anger in his eyes. He came at me harder, blocking my way several times, nearly fouling. But that was what I wanted. Just a bit more, Jason. He was doing exactly what I'd planned. I stayed calm. I let it build. Because the more tired he got, the more my provocations rattled him, the more disorganized his team became.
At one point, he had the ball. After several intense back-and-forths, he was sweating and panting, trying hard not to be thrown off. I was guarding him. He took a long shot to score. He looked at me as if to say my words didn't affect him — or so he thought.
I said:— Eh, that's it? That's all you've