First AAU Game Part 1/3

*Sound Effects*

**Language**

'Thoughts'

"Dialogue"

Coach Will and I reached the AAU gym ahead of schedule. I'd requested an early arrival to squeeze in a few more shots before the official warm-up. Coach, always supportive, readily agreed, and so we found ourselves in the gym an hour before the game.

The stillness of the empty gym enveloped me in a sense of calm. I knew this tranquility would soon give way to the buzz of arriving players and the electrifying atmosphere of the game. Undeterred, I continued honing my skills, putting up shots and working up a sweat. Repetition was my ally; practicing the same moves repeatedly might seem excessive to some, but I understood the significance of ingraining them into muscle memory. In the crucial moments when the clock was ticking down and pressure mounted, it was these practiced moves that could be unleashed instinctively, without the need for conscious thought. The quiet solitude of the gym transformed into a sanctuary of preparation, a space where the seeds of success were sown through dedicated repetition.

As I continued my pre-game routine in the gym, the atmosphere shifted gradually. The initial calm gave way to a subtle hum as more people filtered in. The echoes of sneakers on the court multiplied, and the rhythmic bounce of basketballs became a symphony of anticipation. Before I knew it, the once quiet space transformed into a bustling arena, packed with the excitement and energy of players, supporters, and spectators. The gym, initially a haven of solitude, now pulsated with the vibrant spirit of the impending game.

The gym buzzed with pre-game energy as our AAU team, the Lone Star Ballers warmed up for our first matchup against a local and relatively unknown team, the Rio Grande Rattlers. Despite them being unknown, the bleachers were packed with family members and friends, all there to support their respective teams. I couldn't help but feel a pang of envy knowing that my mom wouldn't be able to make it due to work. Nevertheless, I pushed those thoughts aside and focused on finishing my warm-up.

'Finally,' I thought to myself as I completed my warm-up. This was it, my first organized game, a far cry from the casual pickup games I was accustomed to. With my body feeling primed and ready, I joined my teammates to lend a hand and gauge everyone's readiness for the upcoming match.

Checking in with my teammates, I observed a mix of nervous excitement and focused determination. Each player was going through their own rituals – some fine-tuning their shots, others practicing defensive stances, and a few engaging in light banter to ease the pre-game jitters. It was a diverse tapestry of individual preparations, each woven into the collective fabric of our team's readiness.

Dylan, our versatile sixth man, was showcasing his signature crossovers, eliciting cheers from those who caught a glimpse. Isaac, our energetic bench player, had a contagious enthusiasm that reverberated through the gym as he encouraged his teammates. The camaraderie was palpable, and the synergy among us hinted at the countless hours we'd spent practicing and bonding.

As the clock ticked closer to game time, Coach Will gathered us for a final pep talk. The atmosphere crackled with a blend of anticipation and determination. It was not just a game; it was the culmination of weeks of preparation, a chance to showcase our skills and unity as a team. With a collective nod, we huddled up, ready to step onto the court and face the challenge that awaited us. The journey had begun, and each one of us was eager to contribute to the unfolding story of the Lone Star Ballers in our first AAU game.

*WHOOOOO*

The sharp blast of a whistle cut through the pre-game chatter, drawing the attention of both teams toward the mid-30s, scruffy-bearded referee.

"We're gonna start in 1 minute! Everyone that isn't starting, make your way off the court," he announced, prompting players to scatter towards the benches.

Our team gathered with Coach Will on our designated side as he retrieved silver jerseys adorned with a lone star symbol.

"Here y'all go," Coach Will distributed the jerseys, and I received mine with the number 11 – my favorite number. Its significance, tied to memories of my mom, evoked a brief but nostalgic smile. Quickly refocusing on the game ahead, I embraced the plain black jersey we wore, devoid of flashy designs but full of potential.

Immediately after donning our jerseys, we strode purposefully onto the court. As the anticipation heightened for the jump ball, every teammate assumed their position, and in the center stood Xavier, poised to ascend for the ball. Approaching the circle, I locked eyes with the player I would be facing. Gazing upward, I identified a formidable figure – a tall, athletic black player wearing the number 3 – 'Damn! What do they feed you?' I thought before awaiting the tip-off.

"You sure you're in the right age group?" quipped number 3.

"You're right, after this game, I'm gonna look like your father," I retorted. Trash-talking wasn't my usual style, but I figured I needed to toughen up, especially if the NBA was my destination.

"Bit-" he began, halting himself as he noticed the ball ascending into the air.

Xavier effortlessly claimed the tip-off, his height advantage evident as their center, a few inches shorter, struggled to compete in the jump. The ball was tipped towards Marcus who grabbed the ball before immediately send it back to me. As I made it passed half court, I saw number 3's fierce expression. 'Clearly, he wasn't too happy with what I said but hey he started it, so I might as well finish this.' I thought before making my way slightly beyond the arc. I immediately begin crossing from left to right keeping my handle low and tight, he was positioning his body to try to make me go left for the help defense. 

'This isn't gonna go how you think' I thought before quickly attacking his top foot causing him to attempt to shift his body quickly, however I was already gone. I noticed the help defense was playing closer to the basket, trying to prevent an open look to Xavier. I instantly rose up shooting a floater not before feeling a force from behind.

*WHOOOO*

I tumbled to the ground, my gaze fixed on the ball soaring through the air.

*Swish*

"Foul on number 3," declared the referee. Caleb and Elijah promptly reached me, extending their hands to lift me back up. As I rose, I caught the audible grumble from number 3, "soft ass muthafucka," he muttered loudly.

Disregarding his taunts, I headed to the free-throw line and commenced my routine: three dribbles, a deep breath in, a spin of the ball, a breath out, and then the shot.

*Swish*

"Too small," I remarked passing by number 3. Heading to the opposite side of the court, I readied myself to defend.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------A/N: Hope everyone's enjoying the story thus far. Just wanted to provide some context for those who might question the prevalence of trash-talking. Remember, this narrative unfolds in 2004, an era known for a tougher sports culture. Furthermore, the mental aspect is a crucial component of basketball, with trash talk often employed to disrupt opponents' focus and gameplay.

As always, I would appreciate any stones to help the story grow! Please let me know your thoughts so far in the comments!