The locker room felt heavier today.
It wasn't nerves. It was weight—the weight of expectations, the pressure of what came next. This was the semifinal, and their opponent was no joke.
Coach Reilly stood up first.
"This is it. One game away from the finals. One step away from everything we've worked for. But today's not going to be easy. You're playing Easton University."
Even saying the name pulled the room tighter. Everyone knew Easton—a team stacked with veterans, future NBA picks, and a head coach who'd been to the tournament final three times in the last five years.
"They're faster, older, and more experienced," Reilly continued. "But they don't have your heart. They don't have what we have."
Then he turned to Ryan.
Ryan stepped up, clipboard in hand.
"They press full court. They trap off the dribble. They run sets that punish hesitation. But you know what they hate?" He paused. "Ball movement. Relentless cutting. Communication."
He looked around at each player.
"We run them out of breath. We make them work. And when it gets close—and it will—we don't blink. Let's go get this."
Fists clapped together. The team roared.
Game time.
Tip-Off – Straight Into the Fire
From the opening whistle, Easton came out like wolves. Fast breaks, tight man defense, blitzes on every screen. They hit their first three shots, and UCLA was suddenly down 6–0 before they'd even gotten into rhythm.
"Talk to each other!" Ryan barked from the sideline. "Get into motion!"
On the next possession, Jordan called the play. Backdoor cut, kick-out, Carter for three. Splash.
That settled the nerves.
Then Jordan picked up a steal and took it coast-to-coast.
6–5.
Still, Easton pushed. Their point guard was lightning quick, driving the lane, forcing help, then dishing to their seven-foot center who slammed it home.
By the end of the first quarter, UCLA trailed 20–14.
They weren't getting outplayed. They were just getting outpaced.
Second Quarter – Adjust and Strike
Ryan pulled the team in.
"They're rushing us. You want to slow them down? Punch them in the mouth with spacing. Five-out offense. Stretch the court. Let them chase."
He turned to Malik. "You're running point for this stretch. Keep the tempo under control."
Malik nodded, already bouncing on his toes.
Back on the court, the change was immediate. UCLA slowed the tempo, using the shot clock, running two or three passes before attacking.
Carter hit another three. Then Malik slipped a bounce pass through traffic to Tyler for a layup.
Then, the bench stepped up.
Jalen blocked a shot, sprinted the floor, and got rewarded with an alley-oop that brought the crowd to its feet.
Ryan pumped his fist on the sideline.
Halftime score: Easton 39 – UCLA 36.
They were still behind—but in control now. The pace had shifted.
Halftime – The Calm Before the Storm
In the locker room, sweat dripped down faces. Shirts clung to backs. Breaths came heavy.
Ryan knelt by the whiteboard.
"They're beatable. You see it now. Their guys are looking tired."
He circled two names.
"Their center is already gassed. Their point guard is forcing shots. Keep your rotations tight. Talk on defense."
Coach Reilly added, "This next quarter will decide the game. You match their punch here, and the pressure turns to them."
Ryan looked at Jordan. "Time to lead."
Jordan nodded. "Let's finish this."
Third Quarter – Blow for Blow
The third quarter felt like a prizefight. Every basket was answered. Every steal was met with a block. The crowd was electric, feeding off the back-and-forth action.
Jordan hit a floater. Easton's forward answered with a corner three.
Carter nailed a jumper. Their guard hit a fadeaway.
UCLA finally took their first lead, 52–51, after Tyler stripped the ball and slammed it down in transition. But Easton answered immediately with a fast-break three.
The buzzer ended the third quarter with UCLA trailing again: 58–55.
It was all going to come down to the final ten minutes.
Fourth Quarter – Rise or Fall
Ryan gathered the team for one last huddle.
"This is it. We knew it wouldn't be easy. But this right here—this is where we find out who we are."
He looked around, voice firm.
"I don't care if you're the starter or the last guy off the bench. You make the play when your number's called. You play for the man next to you."
He turned to Jalen and Malik.
"You're going in. Energy. Hustle. You two change the tempo."
To Jordan: "Keep pushing. Even when you're tired. You fall, you get up. Every. Time."
They broke the huddle with a shout.
The Final Ten Minutes – All or Nothing
The fourth quarter started with urgency. Easton tried to hit them hard early—fast drives, quick shots—but UCLA was ready.
Malik stole the inbounds pass and dished it to Tyler for the and-one. The gym exploded.
Tie game: 61–61.
Easton's center dunked. Jordan answered with a mid-range jumper.
63–63.
Then came the turning point.
Easton tried to trap Carter at half court. He faked the pass, spun between defenders, and hit Malik cutting baseline. Layup.
Next possession, Jalen jumped a passing lane, dove for the ball, and saved it mid-air to Jordan—who found Carter for a dagger three.
68–63. Momentum flipped.
Ryan was yelling, clapping, voice hoarse.
"Finish it! Lock in!"
With two minutes left, Easton made one last push. A three-pointer and a fast-break layup brought it back to 70–68.
Timeout UCLA.
The huddle was tight. Focused.
"They're desperate," Ryan said, voice calm. "You've got the game in your hands. Run 'Hammer.' Malik gets it to Jordan in the corner. Carter screens. Jalen—crash the glass hard."
The play worked to perfection. Carter's screen freed Jordan just enough, and he drilled the three.
73–68.
One minute left.
Easton missed a three, and Jalen secured the rebound. The clock ticked down.
Final possession.
Ryan let them run free. No plays. Just trust.
Carter dribbled out the clock, then lobbed a soft alley-oop to Tyler, who flushed it with two hands.
Final score: UCLA 75 – Easton 68.
The crowd erupted. The bench stormed the court.
They were going to the finals.
After the Game – The Quiet Victory
In the hallway after media interviews, Ryan leaned against the wall, drenched in sweat, clipboard in hand.
Ivy came walking toward him, holding a bottle of water.
"Genius move putting Malik and Jalen in early," she said. "You flipped the whole quarter with that rotation."
He smiled, tired but satisfied.
"They were ready. I just gave them the chance."
"You looked like you belonged out there," Ivy said.
He chuckled. "Starting to feel like it."
She stepped closer. "You know, if this is you at the start of your career…"
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"You're going to change the game."