While Aaron and Omar were in a corner celebrating, a very different conversation was being generated between two other members of the team.
"Why didn't you pass me the ball as I ordered," Maurice said once he was close enough to Dominykas so that no one could hear them.
"You were marked and the other one wasn't," was all Dominykas could say, slightly furrowing his brow at the comment from Maurice.
"I don't care; if I tell you to pass it to me, you pass it to me," clenching his teeth, Maurice said those words slowly.
"Oh, or else what?" Dominykas asked in his direction while flexing his muscles and pushing Maurice.
At that, Maurice kept silent, not knowing what to say or do.
"Heh," was the dry laugh from Dominykas while he passed next to him, slightly bumping Maurice's shoulder as he returned to his position to resume the game.
"This hasn't ended," Maurice thought, swallowing his anger, knowing that eventually he will have his revenge against Aaron.
After that, he also returned to the court, ready to demonstrate why he was the leader of this team.
Once the game resumed, Maurice was more aggressive and proactive in his runs, something that did not go unnoticed by his teammates and the coaches.
"Maurice is more proactive than usual," Artie mentioned to his friend, who was also seeing the same thing he was looking at.
"He feels the threat," was all the coach said, also seeing the change from Maurice. "If Aaron hadn't asked for the ball, most likely Dom would have ended up passing it to Maurice," he finished saying, remembering past games in which the firepower fell completely on Maurice's form.
"Is that good or bad?" Artie asked, wanting to know what his friend thought about that.
"A threatened Maurice means he will take the games more seriously," Arbitello said while his eyes returned to rest on Aaron, who was blocking the routes of the player in front of him without ever losing sight of the ball.
"On the other hand, it surprises me how quickly Reed has been adapting to playing as a power forward," coach Arbitello said with a surprised tone upon seeing how well Aaron was performing in a position relatively new to him.
"Derick did a good job teaching him the mechanics and movements," Artie couldn't help but explain, remembering the practices of the last month before the regular season began.
"Not only that," coach Arbitello couldn't help but mention, remembering how after regular practices Aaron and his friend who was on the freshman team would stay an hour longer than scheduled to practice their movements.
"What do you mean?" Artie interrogated, not fully understanding what his friend meant by that.
"It's nothing," coach Arbitello finished saying, shaking his head and concentrating on what really matters, which is the game being played at these moments.
Looking at the scoreboard clock, he saw that 4 minutes of the 2nd quarter had elapsed, with exactly 4 minutes remaining for halftime. "I'm going to take Reed out," he mentioned quickly without even turning to see the reaction of Artie, who put on a face of surprise at that.
"Why, if he's doing well?" Artie asked with incredulity, looking at Joe as if he had grown two heads.
"We shouldn't over-demand him yet at this stage," was the clinical response of the coach, having wide experience working with young players every season. "It suits us for him to have enough energy for the second half of the game, and besides," he finished saying while with his gaze he pointed toward a seat in which a player could be seen who was anxious.
"You're going to change him for Roland?" Artie interrogated, to which coach Arbitello simply nodded. "Although Reed is doing well, Brown is a senior and what he needs most now is game time if he wants to play in college," he finished saying, keeping his true thoughts to himself.
What he didn't say is that he simply didn't see any of them arriving to dedicate themselves professionally to this sport; among all of them, only Maurice has offers from some D1 programs, but they are small programs without much exposure.
That was the cruelty of professional basketball, where less than 1% of NCAA players manage to step into the NBA, where only 60 new players enter and hundreds more are expelled from there without pity or glory.
Arbitello saw every year how hundreds of the players he coached left high school with great dreams of becoming the next superstar of the league, only to end up with crushed dreams and some playing in foreign leagues in the best of cases.
But even so, he never had the heart or intention to tell them that and break their dreams, so while they can still keep enjoying the game, he would let them play and enjoy until they can't do it anymore.
"Brown!" Artie suddenly shouted, making the mentioned player lift his head abruptly and see the signal to approach.
"You're going in to replace Reed," was all Roland heard from the coach while he unconsciously released the air he was holding and nodded, ready to enter.
"You understand the play, right?" the coach said, pointing again to the board with the play he explained in the first quarter break to the players, to which he nodded quickly.
"Good, go warm up so you can enter." Before the coach could even finish saying that phrase, Brown was seen taking off his jacket and jogger and beginning to stretch and run along the edge of the court.
While that was happening, on the court the game continued developing in a tug-of-war between both teams, with neither of them ready to throw in the towel yet.
At a given moment, the Gaels team managed to win a rebound of the ball and head quickly toward the Royals' basket.
"Damn," Dominykas couldn't help but curse upon seeing that he was at the opposite hoop, leaving the low post of his own team practically unprotected, and running as fast as he could toward there.
But seeing that he wouldn't arrive in time, a feeling of guilt filled his chest until he saw a player from his team run frantically toward their own basket without showing panic or even giving up toward what were possibly guaranteed points by the other team.
Without losing concentration, Aaron ran as fast as he could with large strides, making his feet resonate loudly throughout the court to the hoop, while he saw how the shooting guard of the opposing team, instead of throwing the ball to the hoop, decided to do a more impressive dunk.
With a smile on his face, imagining the exclamations and shouts of the people who came to see the game, he couldn't help but fantasize about how he should celebrate that basket the moment his feet stepped on the ground again.
But while he was fantasizing, he couldn't see how a player from the opposing team ran and jumped seconds after him, only to then slam his hand against the ball, making the ball go out of bounds.
"Thump," was the sound that echoed throughout the gym the moment the ball collided with the other player's hand and went out of bounds.
Such was the impression of the shooting guard that he ended up falling to the floor the moment the ball was blocked, and lifting his gaze, the only thing he could see was the back of the player who had ruined his play with the number 15 on it.
Indignant, he raised his hands toward the referee, who at that moment was near him. "Foul!" he shouted in his direction, letting him see that he was lying on the floor.
"I didn't see anything," the referee said pointedly, who was present at the same moment that block occurred.
"But..." the player wanted to keep insisting until he saw that the referee quickly took the whistle to his mouth.
"Get up before I give you a technical foul, boy," the referee said in a cutting tone, giving it to be understood that he would not change his decision at all.
"TSCH," at that he couldn't do anything else but click his tongue in evident annoyance while he stood up for the resumption of the game.
But as soon as he stood up, he saw how the player who had ruined his play left the court and was replaced by another, at which he didn't know what emotion to put: relief because they got rid of him, or anger thinking how the Royals would underestimate his team.
On the other hand, as soon as his feet touched the ground, he saw how coach Arbitello made signals to him with his hand and to Roland on the sideline ready to enter the court.
Understanding what the coach wanted to do, Aaron jogged toward the sideline, and as soon as his feet stepped on the line, he saw how Roland entered quickly onto the court without even giving Aaron a second look.
While that was happening, he could also hear the boos from the All Hallows fans.
"BOO!!" could be heard throughout the stands, while he could hear what one was saying who was near him.
"That was a foul!!" he shouted, dismayed, with his hands over his mouth, showing his frustration over the last play on the court.
"Sit down, Reed," Artie said quickly, preventing Aaron from continuing to hear what the stands were saying and sitting him down while passing him a towel and a bottle of water.
"Thanks," Aaron couldn't help but exclaim the moment his hand grabbed the cold bottle of water, and without wasting time, he unscrewed it and took it to his mouth.
"Gulp, gulp," was all that could be heard from Aaron while in a single swallow he took half a bottle before removing it from his mouth.
"Ah," with a sigh of satisfaction, Aaron began to dry himself with the towel until he heard the coach's voice directed toward him.
"Good job with that last block," the coach praised without bashfulness, knowing how valuable that block was at that moment.
"I only did my job," was Aaron's simple response, dismissing its importance as if that block were not something worth remembering.
32-29, current score.
The Gaels managed to reduce the lead the Royals had achieved to only 3 points, a situation that put the Royals' nerves on edge since any three-pointer would make both teams end up tied.
"You will rest all the 3rd quarter so you are ready for the 4th," coach Arbitello said toward Aaron, letting him know the strategy he had planned for the team.
"Understood," was Aaron's simple response while his gaze focused on the play that was happening right now.
At that moment, Omar was in possession of the ball and tried by all means to get rid of his mark and run to score at the hoop, but seeing that it didn't give results, he passed it immediately to Corey so he could organize the play while he sought to create enough space.
Receiving the ball, Corey wasted no time and set out to observe the whole court searching for any opening or free player, but not being able to see any, he decided to advance with the ball, being quickly flanked by two players from the opposing team.
Taking advantage of that and seeing that one took his mark off Roland, he quickly passed him the ball. "Roland," he called his attention to pass him the ball since he found himself with enough space to be able to shoot the ball with almost no interference from the other team.
As soon as he had the ball in his possession and was preparing to shoot, a voice cut him off in the middle of his movement. "Here," Maurice said in an authoritative tone, asking for the ball.
Without talking back, Roland passed the ball to Maurice despite the fact that he was heavily marked, but regardless of that, he took advantage of his strength to force a shot which simply ended up impacting the backboard and ending up in possession of the other team.
"Fuck," Maurice cursed under his breath, running quickly toward his own side of the court, but this time they couldn't prevent the opposing team from scoring, shortening the point gap to only 1.
32-31, current score.
Turning his gaze, Maurice saw how the coach furrowed his brow and gave him a look that they would talk later, to then turn his head and refocus on the game.
Meanwhile, seeing that, Aaron couldn't help but want to return to the court as soon as possible, fearing that the team might lose the first game of the season.
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