Chapter 180 The Right Play

Chapter 180 The Right Play

Marcus POV

The trap came before Marcus crossed the free-throw line. The second defender stepped toward him the moment he came off the screen, trying to force the ball out of his hands.

Marcus didn't hesitate. One pass to the wing. Another pass to the corner. The three-pointer dropped cleanly through the net.

Philadelphia's bench jumped to its feet. As Marcus sprinted back on defense, Assistant Coach Reynolds clapped once.

"They're still sending two."

The head coach kept his eyes on the court. "Then make them regret it every time."

That became the story of the first half. Every time the defense collapsed on Marcus, someone else found an open shot.

The ball moved from one side of the floor to the other until the right look appeared. Nobody forced anything. Nobody held the ball longer than necessary.

Philadelphia's offense settled into a rhythm. Late in the first quarter, the trap came again. Marcus slipped the ball to the starting point guard before the second defender could close the gap.

The point guard attacked the paint, drew another defender, and dropped the ball off to Kevin for an easy dunk. As they ran back, Kevin pointed at Marcus."That's basketball."

Marcus smiled but kept moving. There was another possession waiting. A few trips later, the defense stayed home. No trap.

No extra help.

Just one defender standing between Marcus and the basket. He attacked without thinking. Two hard dribbles. A pull-up jumper. Nothing but net.

On the next possession, the help defender stepped toward him again. Marcus fired the ball to the rookie forward waiting in the corner. Three more points.

The defense couldn't decide which version of Marcus was more dangerous. Leave him alone, and he would score. Send help, and someone else would.

By halftime, Philadelphia had built a comfortable lead. The locker room stayed calm. The head coach walked to the whiteboard, picked up a marker, and wrote four words.

Trust the next pass.

He stepped aside."Keep making the simple play."

Nobody needed a longer speech. Everyone understood what had given them the lead.

The second half opened with a different challenge. The opposing coach assigned his best perimeter defender to Marcus and abandoned the traps.

The defender picked him up the length of the floor."You only look good because they keep doubling."

Marcus never answered.

The next possession, he came off a screen, planted his foot, and cut hard toward the basket. The point guard saw him immediately.

The pass arrived on time. Easy layup. As they ran back, the defender shook his head.

"Lucky."

Marcus only smiled.The scoreboard was the only answer that mattered.The lead slowly disappeared during the fourth quarter.

The other team started making shots. The crowd grew louder with every possession.

With less than two minutes remaining, Philadelphia led by only two.

The coach called out the next play. Marcus came off another screen. The trap returned.This time, he recognized it before it arrived.

The weak-side defender committed too early. Marcus skipped the ball across the court. One extra pass. Corner three.

Nothing but net.

Before the crowd finished celebrating, the opposing coach called a timeout. Marcus jogged toward the bench. Assistant Coach Reynolds folded his arms and nodded.

"Perfect."

The head coach looked down at the stat sheet instead of the scoreboard. "Twenty-eight assists." He held up the paper."That's who we are."

Nobody talked about points during the timeout. The conversation centered on spacing, movement, and trusting the next pass.

When the final buzzer sounded, Philadelphia walked away with another preseason win.

The locker room felt lighter than it had after any game that month. The rookie forward bumped Marcus's fist as he headed toward the showers.

"Keep finding me."

Marcus smiled."You keep making them."

"Deal."

Kevin sat beside him while unlacing his shoes."You know what changed?"

Marcus looked over.

"You stopped trying to beat five guys by yourself." He stood and slung his bag over his shoulder."That's when the game gets easier."

The words stayed with Marcus on the drive home. Dinner was already on the table when he stepped into the apartment.

Simone looked up and smiled.

"I watched the game."

Marcus pulled out a chair."So you saw me score fourteen."

She shook her head."I saw you control the game."

A quiet laugh escaped him."Coach said almost the same thing."

"Then maybe he's right."

They ate while talking about their day, drifting from basketball to the hospital and back again. It was an ordinary evening, and Marcus found himself appreciating how ordinary it felt.

Later that night, he scrolled through the postgame coverage before setting his phone on the nightstand. One headline caught his eye.

Marcus Hale Looks Comfortable Running Philadelphia's Offense.

He didn't open the article. Another opponent would be waiting in a few days.

Another defensive scheme. Another problem to solve.

The preseason was almost over.The games that counted were getting closer.