dmims Chapter 283: Gravity
Chapter 283: Gravity
The happy, excited feeling of winning by 76 points against Myanmar was completely gone. The loud cheers and the joy of the easy game had disappeared into thin air. It was now Tuesday morning. The bright sun shined through the windows of the hotel meeting room, but the Philippine Under-18 National Team felt very serious and quiet.
The fifteen players sat in their metal chairs, staring straight ahead. In front of them was a large white board covered in angry red ink.
Coach Dante Baldomero stood next to the board. He did not care about the huge win yesterday. He did not believe in momentum or resting on a good job. He only believed in fixing mistakes and getting ready for the next war.
"Yesterday was nothing but a light warm-up game," Coach Baldomero said in his deep, strict voice. He tapped his finger hard against the projector screen. The screen showed the bright red and yellow flag of Vietnam. "Today is not a warm-up. Today is a dangerous trap."
The players sat quietly in their practice clothes. Many of them were rubbing sore muscles. Giant Josh Manio was slowly stretching his lower back. Joco Palencia was spinning an orange basketball on his pointer finger. Joco tried to look like he was bored, but his dark eyes were sharp and focused.
"The team from Vietnam is totally different from Myanmar," Baldomero continued, looking at each of his players. "They do not just run blindly toward the basket hoping for a lucky shot. They are called the 'Golden Star Warriors' of Southeast Asia. They play a very modern, smart style of basketball. It is called 'Space and Pace.' That means they spread far apart on the court, they run very fast, and they live and die by shooting the three-point shot."
The coach clicked a small remote in his hand. A picture of a Vietnamese player popped up on the screen. The boy was wearing a red jersey with the number #8.
"This is Nguyen Van Minh," Baldomero explained. "He is 6 feet and 2 inches tall. He is their shooting guard. He is very dangerous. He made 42% of his long three-point shots in his home league this year. If you try to run around a screen slowly against him, he will shoot over you and punish you. If you leave him alone for even one second to help a teammate, he will punish you."
Coach Baldomero turned his head and looked directly at Marco Gumaba, the team's best shooter.
"This is going to be your kind of game today, Gumaba," Baldomero said. "The Vietnam team wants to have a fast shootout. They want to see who can score the most three-pointers. We are going to give them a war instead. But our war is built on size and strength. We are much bigger than them. They cannot stop our height."
Then, Baldomero shifted his sharp gaze to the team captain, the Ace.
"Herrera," Baldomero said sharply. "Do not get tricked into a running match with them. Do not try to run up and down the court fast just because they do. They want chaos. They want a messy, wild game. We must impose perfect Order. We will slow the game down. We will grind them into the dirt in the half-court. You must make them feel how heavy and big we are."
"Yes, Coach," Tristan replied quickly. His voice was very calm and flat, but inside his head, his brain was already running hundreds of different basketball simulations.
Nimibutr Stadium
1:00 PM
The giant stadium was much louder today than it was on Monday. The Philippines' massive victory against Myanmar had drawn a lot of attention from the local fans. Also, many Thai fans were arriving very early to get good seats for their own team's game later that evening. The crowd was buzzing and talking loudly about the Thai superstar, Suphawat. But right now, their critical eyes were watching the tall boys from the Philippines.
On the other side of the shiny wooden court, the Vietnam team was already warming up. They looked incredibly disciplined, like a group of perfect soldiers. They moved in sharp, straight lines. Every single player, from their small guards to their big center, was practicing shooting three-pointers from the corners of the court.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
The sound of the ball perfectly hitting the net echoed through the arena.
"They have a really great rhythm today," Gab Lagman noted softly. He was standing under the hoop, waiting in line to practice his layups. "They look very loose and relaxed."
"Let us see how loose and relaxed they are when you smash your heavy body into them," Tristan said coldly. He leaned down and tied the shoelaces on his basketball shoes as tight as he possibly could.
Coach Baldomero decided to use a different starting lineup for this game. He wanted maximum height and length on the court to bother the Vietnamese shooters.
The Starting Five for the Philippines:
Point Guard: Tristan Herrera
Shooting Guard: Marco Gumaba
Small Forward: Ash Galang
Power Forward: Aekley Vicente
Center: Josh Manio
Baldomero told his other stars, Joco Palencia and Gab Lagman, to sit on the bench and rest for the start of the game.
The referee blew his silver whistle loudly and tossed the heavy orange ball high into the air.
Josh Manio jumped up. He won the tip-off easily against the much shorter Vietnamese center, slapping the ball back to his team.
Tristan caught the ball and slowly dribbled it down the court. The Vietnam defense was completely different from the zone defense Myanmar had played yesterday. Vietnam played a tough, trapping man-to-man defense. Every time Tristan bounced the ball, the Vietnamese defenders would dig their hands in, trying to steal it.
Tristan held up his hand and signaled the play called Orbit Bravo.
Giant Josh Manio ran up and set a hard screen to block the defender. Tristan used the screen to run to the side.
However, the Vietnamese defender guarding Tristan was a very fast guard named Le. Le fought hard to squeeze over the screen. He did not give up.
Tristan was smart. He did not force a bad shot or a crazy drive. Instead, he threw a quick pass to Aekley Vicente, who was standing open near the free-throw line.
Vicente caught the ball, turned around, and shot a standard jump shot.
Clang.
The ball hit the hard metal rim and bounced away. It was a miss.
The Vietnam players grabbed the rebound instantly. They did not slow down to think. They pushed the ball forward as fast as they could run.
Nguyen, the dangerous number #8, sprinted hard to the right side of the court. He did not even look at the basket. He just ran to his spot. His teammate threw a long, fast pass to him.
Nguyen caught the ball in the air, landed on his feet, and shot a three-pointer before the Philippine defense could even get close to him.
Swish.
Vietnam: 3
Philippines: 0
"Get back on defense faster!" Tristan yelled loudly, clapping his hands together to wake up his teammates.
On the very next play, Tristan passed the ball inside to Josh Manio near the basket.
Manio caught the ball and tried to push his smaller defender backward. It looked like an easy, simple score. But it was not. Two more Vietnamese players suddenly swarmed around Manio like angry bees. They hacked and chopped at his arms and the ball.
Manio got confused and fumbled the ball out of his hands. It was a turnover.
Vietnam picked up the loose ball and ran fast again. They pushed it down the court. Another quick pass to the outside. Another deep three-point shot from the corner.
Swish.
Vietnam: 6
Philippines: 0
Coach Baldomero stood perfectly still on the sideline. His strong arms were crossed over his chest. He did not yell, and he did not call a timeout to stop the clock. He wanted to see how his boys would handle a bad start. He wanted to see if they would panic or think.
"Slow down! Everyone just slow down!" Tristan commanded his team. He took the ball from the referee to start the next play.
Inside Tristan's vision, his magical System was flashing bright red warnings.
[System Warning: Opponent Momentum is Very High]
[System Warning: Perimeter Defense is Failing]
Tristan looked across the court at Marco Gumaba.
They are packing all their players inside the painted area near the basket to stop our giant players, Tristan thought to himself. They are purposely leaving the outside open. They are daring us to try and beat them by shooting.
Tristan dribbled the ball to the very top of the three-point line. This time, he did not call for anyone to set a screen. He told everyone to clear out of the way. He was completely alone with the fast guard named Le.
Tristan did a quick hesitation dribble. He made his body freeze for half a second. It made Le freeze, too.
Then, Tristan exploded past him, driving hard and fast to his right side.
Just as Tristan expected, the entire Vietnam defense panicked. Three players in bright red and yellow jerseys stopped guarding their own men and rushed into the middle to stop Tristan from scoring.
Tristan jumped high into the air.
He did not look at the rim. He did not even try to shoot. Instead, he looked at the far corner of the court.
Marco was waiting exactly there. Marco's feet were perfectly set. His hands were ready.
While floating in the air, Tristan whipped a super-fast, blind pass all the way around the back of the defender. The pass flew like a laser beam.
Marco caught it perfectly in his shooting pocket. He took one breath in. He let one breath out.
Marco jumped up. His shooting form was beautiful and perfect.
Bang.
Vietnam: 6
Philippines: 3
"Do it exactly like that again!" Tristan shouted happily as they ran back to play defense.
The rest of the first quarter turned into a dizzying, wild shootout.
The Vietnam team simply refused to miss their shots. Nguyen was playing like his hands were on fire. He was hitting difficult step-back shots. He was shooting on the run. He played with a desperate, fiery energy because he knew this fast style was their only chance to upset the giant Philippine team.
But the Philippines had a secret weapon. They had the Orbit System.
And the Orbit System had something special: Gravity.
On the basketball court, "gravity" means how much a star player pulls the defense toward them. Tristan Herrera became a massive, heavy black hole.
Every single time Tristan touched the ball, the Vietnam defenders got terrified. They shrank their defense. They pulled away from the outside and crowded around him to stop him from dunking.
And every single time they shrank inside, Tristan used his amazing vision to find the open man on the outside.
He drove to the basket and passed to Ash Galang for a wide-open three-pointer.
He drove inside and passed to Aekley Vicente for an easy jump shot on the baseline.
But mostly, he found Marco.
Marco Gumaba had entered a special mental state called "The Zone." Everything he threw at the hoop went straight in.
Catch. Shoot. Swish.
Fake the shot. Take one step to the side. Shoot. Swish.
Because of Tristan's gravity pulling the defense away, Marco had the easiest shooting practice of his life.
By the time the loud buzzer rang to end the first quarter, the scoreboard showed a completely tied game.
Philippines: 28
Vietnam: 28
"Your defense is full of holes, like a cheap sponge," Coach Baldomero growled angrily in the team huddle. "You are just trading baskets with them. You score, they score. That is gambling. I hate gambling. We will stop gambling right now. Lagman, Palencia. Take off your warm-up jackets. Check into the game. Lock down the outside."
When the second quarter started, heavy Gab Lagman and super-fast Joco Palencia stepped onto the court. The entire tone of the game changed instantly.
Vietnam tried to run their fast, weaving passing offense again. Nguyen ran as fast as he could around a screen, looking for an empty space to shoot.
He ran completely blind straight into Gab Lagman's chest.
It was exactly like running full speed into a giant, solid kitchen refrigerator.
Nguyen bounced backward off Gab and fell onto the floor. Gab did not even move a single inch.
"This is a no-fly zone, little man," Gab muttered, staring down at the Vietnamese star.
Because Nguyen was trapped, the Vietnam team was forced to pass the ball around the outside. That was exactly what Joco Palencia was waiting for.
Joco watched the passer's eyes. When the pass left the player's hands, Joco jumped forward into the passing lane like a quick, striking snake.
Steal.
Joco tipped the ball away, grabbed it, and was off to the races. Nobody could catch him. He ran all the way to the other end and dunked the ball with two hands, screaming loudly as he hung on the metal rim.
Philippines: 30
Vietnam: 28
The tide of the game had officially turned.
With Gab and Joco playing incredible, lockdown defense, the Vietnam players could not score easily anymore. This allowed Tristan to take complete control of the game's speed.
Tristan slowed the game down to a crawl. He did not run. He slowly dribbled the heavy ball, watching the big clock tick down. 20 seconds... 15 seconds... 10 seconds. He was slowly draining the time, suffocating and destroying Vietnam's fast rhythm.
Then, when there were only 5 seconds left on the shot clock, Tristan would suddenly attack with lightning speed.
He called for Gab to set a screen. It was a simple pick-and-roll play. It was simple, brutal, and totally unstoppable.
If the defense switched, Tristan used his speed to easily run past the slower big man.
If the defense stayed on Tristan, Tristan threw a soft, easy pass to Gab for a wide-open layup.
By the time the halftime buzzer rang, the game was fully in the Philippines' control.
Halftime Score:
Philippines: 54
Vietnam: 42
"This is much better," Coach Baldomero said, pacing back and forth in the small, hot locker room. "But their best player, Nguyen, already has 18 points. Why is he still breathing? Why is he still allowed to touch the basketball?"
"He has a really quick shooting release, Coach," Marco panted heavily, wiping thick sweat off his forehead with a towel. "Even when I put my hand right in his face, he still shoots it perfectly."
"Then put two hands in his face!" Baldomero snapped back loudly. "Do whatever it takes! Deny him the ball. Do not let him catch passes. Make someone else on their team try to beat us."
The strict coach then turned his eyes to Tristan.
"Herrera. You already have 12 assists. That is good passing. But when we go out there for the third quarter, I want you to kill their hope completely. They are still hanging around because they think they can out-shoot us. Go out there and crush their spirit."
"Understood, Coach," Tristan said softly. He drank the rest of his pink electrolyte water. His dark eyes were cold and empty.
The third quarter began.
Tristan brought the ball up the court slowly.
He looked closely at Nguyen. The Vietnamese scorer looked very tired, covered in sweat, but his eyes were still determined to fight.
Tristan dribbled the ball casually. He was standing right on the painted logo in the very middle of the court, about thirty feet away from the basket.
Suddenly, without any warning, Tristan pulled the ball up and shot it.
It was a massively deep three-pointer. It was a shot from the NBA ranges.
The Vietnamese defender was standing five feet away and did not even react. He didn't think anyone would shoot from that far away.
Swish.
The entire crowd in the stadium gasped loudly.
Vietnam panicked and tried to answer back. Nguyen tried to shoot a tough, contested three-pointer over Gab's giant outstretched arms. The shot missed badly.
Tristan grabbed the heavy rebound.
He pushed the ball up the court fast. This time, he did not look to pass to Marco. He did not look for Gab.
He drove straight down the middle of the painted lane. Two defenders stepped in front of him. Tristan did a brutal crossover dribble between his legs. The move was so fast and sharp that the two Vietnamese defenders tripped over each other and nearly collided.
Tristan jumped and finished with a high, soft layup off the glass backboard.
On the very next play, Tristan caught the ball close to the basket. He was guarded by a much smaller player.
Tristan used his strong back and shoulders to push the smaller boy backward. Thud. Thud.
Tristan spun around, faded backward away from the defender, and shot a classic, unblockable fadeaway jumper.
Swish.
It was a personal 7-to-0 scoring run by Tristan Herrera in only ninety short seconds.
The score gap blew up.
Philippines: 61
Vietnam: 42
You could literally see the light of hope go out in the Vietnamese players' eyes. The gap in size and talent was just too huge. They had tried to fight back with pure heart and fast shooting in the first half, but now it was useless. The Philippines team was simply too big, too skilled, and far too disciplined.
The fourth quarter of the game was just a formality. The winner was already decided.
Coach Baldomero emptied his bench to let his star players rest safely. Bench players like Larson Callao and Emon Jacob got a chance to play for the last ten minutes. Even with the backup players on the floor, the Philippines kept their large lead easily because the Vietnam team was completely demoralized.
Final Game Score:
Philippines: 98
Vietnam: 75
It was not the massive 76-point destruction that they had against Myanmar yesterday. But it was a very solid, professional 23-point victory against a very good shooting team.
As the sweaty, tired Philippine team walked off the court and headed back toward the dark tunnel to their locker room, they suddenly heard a massive roar from the stadium crowd.
The home team, Thailand, was walking out onto the court to warm up for their evening match against the country of Laos.
Tristan stopped walking right near the tunnel entrance.
He slowly turned his head and looked back at the bright court.
Suphawat was there. The Thai star was playfully juggling a basketball between his hands and his knees again.
But this time, Suphawat was not smiling his usual cheeky smile. He stopped juggling. He looked up at the giant, glowing electronic scoreboard: PHI 98 - 75 VIE.
Then, Suphawat slowly turned his head and looked directly at Tristan standing in the shadows of the tunnel.
Suphawat nodded his head one single time.
It was a sign of respect. He was acknowledging the Philippines' big win. But behind that nod, the dangerous challenge was still there.
"He is watching you, Cap," Joco Palencia said quietly, coming up to stand right beside Tristan's shoulder.
"Let him watch all he wants," Tristan said in a flat voice, turning away and walking into the tunnel. "Tomorrow afternoon, he gets a front-row seat to his own funeral."
That night back at the Grand Rama Hotel, the routine was the exact same. The team ate another boring dinner of plain chicken breasts and dry brown rice. They sat in a small meeting room and watched the video tape of their game against Vietnam. Coach Baldomero spent thirty minutes pointing out all the terrible defensive mistakes they made in the first quarter, but he did give them a tiny bit of praise for fixing the problems in the second half.
Now, the hotel was quiet. Inside Room 402, Tristan lay flat on his soft bed in the dark.
Young Aiden was already fast asleep on the other bed. The rookie was totally exhausted from spending the whole afternoon chasing fast Vietnamese guards around heavy screens. He was snoring softly.
Suddenly, Tristan's cell phone buzzed on the wooden nightstand.
He picked it up. The bright screen hurt his eyes in the dark. It was a new text message from their secret group chat, named "The Big Three." The chat only had Tristan, Marco, and Gab in it.
Marco: Man, my legs feel totally dead right now. Chasing those Vietnam guys all over the court was exactly like trying to chase tiny, annoying mosquitoes.
Gab: Taking a freezing ice bath really helped my knees. We need to rest hard. We must be absolutely 100% healthy for the game tomorrow.
Marco: Did you guys see the score? Thailand completely destroyed Brunei tonight. 110 to 40. Suphawat didn't even play the 4th quarter. He just sat on the bench.
Tristan: I saw the score. He is resting his legs just for us.
Tristan put the phone face down on the table.
He closed his tired eyes. In his mind, he started to visualize a glowing basketball court. He moved little imaginary pieces around, like a game of chess.
Thailand was fast. They were even faster and wilder than Vietnam.
Suphawat was a pure basketball genius. He did not run plays; he just made things up instantly as he ran.
But the Philippines had something that the happy Thailand team did not have.
Tristan gently touched his chest, right over his heart.
They had the heavy burden of pressure.
The Thai boys played basketball just for fun. They played to make the crowd cheer and laugh.
The Philippine boys played basketball because Coach Baldomero had wired their brains to believe that losing a game was worse than death.
Suddenly, the magical blue light of the System popped up in the dark room.
[SYSTEM ALERT]
[Main Quest Updated: THE CLASH OF KINGS]
[Time Remaining: 17 Hours]
[Primary Objective: Defeat Thailand in the Group Stage]
[Opponent Ace Identified: Suphawat (Specialty: Speed/Agility Build)]
[System Recommended Strategy: The Trap]
Tristan opened his eyes and frowned at the floating blue screen. The Trap?
He tapped the screen to open the detailed view.
[Strategy Tip: The player Suphawat relies entirely on his internal rhythm to play well. Do not try to break the player physically. You must break his mental rhythm. Force him to pass the ball when he wants to shoot. Force him to shoot when he wants to pass.]
Tristan smiled a slow, cold smile in the dark room.
He completely understood. He knew exactly what he had to do tomorrow.
That night, when Tristan finally fell asleep, he dreamt of the basketball court.
But in his dream, he was not playing in the giant, shiny Nimibutr Stadium in Thailand. He was playing on the old, dirty, cracked concrete court back in his hometown of Dasmariñas, in the Calabarzon region of the Philippines. He could smell the familiar dust and hear the tricycles driving by in the distance.
In the dream, he was playing a one-on-one game against Suphawat.
But Suphawat was not wearing his bright red and gold Thai jersey. He was made entirely out of dark, smoky shadows.
Tristan moved his heavy feet to try and block him, but Suphawat just laughed and turned into smoke, floating right past Tristan's arms.
You cannot catch the wind, Tristan, the shadow whispered playfully in his ear.
If I cannot catch the wind, then I will just build a giant wall that the wind cannot cross, Tristan replied firmly in the dream.
Tristan woke up with a sudden start. His eyes snapped open.
He looked at the digital clock on the wall. It was exactly 6:00 AM.
It was Wednesday.
It was officially Game Day.
Today was the Philippines against Thailand. It was the ultimate battle for control of Southeast Asia.
Tristan sat up slowly on the edge of the bed. The cold air conditioning unit in the window hummed quietly.
He didn't feel nervous. He didn't feel angry. He felt incredibly, perfectly calm. It was the quiet, deadly calm you feel when you stand directly inside the center eye of a massive hurricane.
"Wake up, Aiden," Tristan said softly, picking up a soft white pillow and throwing it gently at the sleeping rookie's head. "Get out of bed. Today is the day we make history."