Better Team Wins

Rules are simple. Whichever team reaches 21 points first, while holding at least a two point lead, wins.

Fouls were pretty much reliant on the somewhat unreliable honesty system, and there were no free throws to show for it.

Since there were no referees, both teams were pretty much not calling fouls that were normally called in officiated games. It was different for hard, obvious fouls.

Their only reward would be a reset.

Tremaine still caught an elbow to the face from opposing center Abdoulaye Eze, despite his attempts to evade him at the rim, causing him to miss the layup that followed.

Tremaine touched his jaw, and felt that the hit could leave a bruise later…

'I want to win even more now, so this bruise upon my handsome face will be worth it.'

Tremaine and his team moved the ball around with a zip on the reset. All five of them were moving to different places of the floor, with some of them screening off-ball, some bouncing passes, and some cutting through the basket and kicking it out.

Their motion busted their opposing team's man to man defense, stretching them through various switches, and off-ball shenanigans. 

To be honest, Tremaine himself was surprised at how many intricacies this singular possession had. 

When Tremaine caught it just inside the arc, he immediately attacked to his left, and after two dribbles, picked it up and changed directions to the right via a mean euro step. He managed to leave both in the dust, breaking free into his way to the rim for the finishing touch. His forceful, evasion maneuver was fantastic, protecting the ball to his fullest of capabilities.

Both DJ and Abdoulaye were left in dismay.

The lead was now two baskets, after a motion offense possession ended up with a killer dribble penetration.

Applause from his teammates and the now slowly forming afternoon crowd reached Tremaine's ears. It was not the first time many of them saw a move like that, but it had always remained an exciting, and blood boiling spectacle for everyone involved.

Tremaine himself first witnessed a move like that when he was but a snotty five year old kid watching the NBA Finals… it was even replayed over and over in the instant replay screen…

How could he forget watching a veteran Giannis Antetokounmpo still doing his long ass eurostep strides straight to the rim before throwing it down with authority?

If only he could do eurostep dunks!

And those countless Manu Ginobili clips that aren't even in high definition that he watched as he grew up?

In his first life, he didn't use the euro step a lot, until he was a veteran journeyman that was starting to lose his below average physical tools.

Now, these dribble moves would be a pivotal advantage for his ascent to the NBA.

Deshaun was feeling the intensity rising. 

Should they switch to a more dribble drive offense?

The teams took the brief interval as a chance to replenish their lost fluids, and to talk about what they wanted to do for the rest of the match. 

"Should we just go dribble drive, with you at the helm?" Curtis beat him to it. All four of them knew that Tremaine was the hot hand, and him having the ball increases the chances of winning. "We'll do everything to support you."

"Do you all want us to play that way?" Tremaine did not intend to go and use a dribble drive strategy, but as a true believer of democracy, he would agree if his team wanted it.

"Dribble drive would be effective if there's a lead guard that could get things done the way you do." Samuel chimed in with his piece of advice. "Plus, me and Curtis are visibly struggling…"

"Man, you really are the star of this show, so why not be the heart of the engine as well?" Deshaun put his always sweaty hands on his best friend's shoulder. "I know you can help us shine too!" 

All eyes then panned to Tarik Diallo, who thought about it for a moment, before coming to peace with his decision.

"Let's do it, but please promise me you'll throw some lobs my way!" Tarik smiled, blinding everyone with his impeccably white teeth. "I'll do everything I can on both ends!"

Tremaine chugged some Gatorade, and grinned. He was not at all against the idea, albeit at first, he wished to continue with the way things were.

However, due to the requests of his teammates, he accepted the new style they'll be playing.

All they needed to win was 8 points anyway.

"We'll win, I promise y'all that!" Tremaine said with conviction. He breathed in deeply, and cracked his knuckles. His nerves of steel were ready now. 

Now, it's time to follow through his words, with results.

The restart was eventful for both sides.

Tremaine managed to throw an alley-oop to Tarik, before losing the next possession from a clean swipe from Sean Nguyen.

That swipe stopped their bleeding, and gave them a fighting chance.

Sean reset the possession from outside the arc, and he gazed at Tremaine's hawk-like eyes. As the game went on, he slowly realized that he had the hardest task to do.

Guarding Tremaine Mills.

But now, he was the one being guarded, and he at least wanted to show he was no slouch as an upperclassman… especially when it comes to his handle. 

His flashy playstyle fit the streets to a tee.

He started dribbling left, right, moving slowly, and not taking his eyes off Tremaine for a single moment.

His bright face burned with determination, finally facing him head on in isolation. 

Only Quandre stayed close, everyone else moving to the other side of the court. He was there just to provide a last resort.

Sean then attacked low, and fast to Tremaine's right, continuing to burst through even if Tremaine kept on step with his dribble. 

At around the free throw line, Sean changed his pace, and direction, with a behind the back dribble. This time he managed to shake Tremaine off with the momentum alone. 

The ones at the bench believed Sean would shoot here, since he's pretty much wide open right now. But his teammates believed otherwise, that he would instead attack and fight him until he reached the rim.

Tremaine regained his footing, and moved to stop the shot, but he made another mistake. 

It was just a fake.

No, I'll stop it!

Tremaine managed to take the ball off his hands, but it only enabled Sean to dribble again without a travel, this time towards the rim, leaving Tremaine reaching for air.

There was no help defense coming, and the conclusion to the possession was decided.

Or at least until Tremaine Mills decided so.

Tremaine dashed back to recover, with everyone's eyes solely fixed on him. He got there without a moment of hesitation, and got up right before Sean released the layup.

Sean was visibly rattled. However, he managed to release the ball at the exact moment before Tremaine swatted it away like a fly for the second time. 

The ball sailed harmlessly over the rim, causing not an issue for Tremaine… or is it?

"Right place, right time." Assistant coach Atkins applauded at the sidelines.

***

Extras:

Quandre had always been called Big Q back in his hood. He's massive, strong, and imposing. 

Somehow, when it came to making his tattoos, he bawled his eyes out for hours on end, and he was the most annoying customer the tattoo artist ever met.

Why? 

Because of the goddamn needles!

He's a beast of a man that is a veteran of many a fist fight, knife fight, but fucking needles scared him to no end! 

It was probably only the artist's integrity that forced him to finish the tattoo job.

"Hehe, my new tattoo is awesome isn't it? Shit didn't scare me a bit." Quandre flexed his first tattoo on his friends like it didn't take the artist several years of stress just to finish it.