From the first possession, I know I’m not missing tonight.
Not after this morning.
Not with all that pressure looking for a place to go.
The game narrows fast.
Screen.
Split.
Finish.
Next trip down, kick out to Kane in the corner.
Three.
Then a steal.
Then a pull-up.
Then a chasedown block so violent the student section starts chanting my name like they invented me.
Good.
Let them.
By halftime I have sixteen and enough adrenaline in my system to qualify as unstable.
Kane slaps the back of my head on the way to the bench.
“That one was for toxic media, right?”
“That one was for being annoying.”
He grins.
“You’re welcome.”
Coach doesn’t mention the article once in the huddle.
He doesn’t need to.
Every guy in that circle can feel exactly what this game has become for me.
Not revenge.
Not ego.
Proof.
Second half gets uglier.
They start trapping high.
Bodying up.
Talking.
