Prologue
Sweat ran down my forehead and stung my eyes, forcing me to raise my hand to wipe away the salty liquid. That was all that my opponent needed. When I raised my left hand to my eyes, he exploded to take advantage of the opening. Before I could recover, he'd already gained the extra step he needed to break through.
Despite what many may think, actually going around a defensive player with the ball is not that easy. It is actually very rare occurrence over the course of a game. Even against an average defender, avoiding him and actually getting to the basket is very difficult. Against a good one, it's damn near impossible. The best ways was to give up the ball, move away from it, and wait for it to come back. Nobody ever won a game by consistently blowing by his man. Instead, it was about creating space. Creating enough space to shoot, or enough space to pass, or if your defender was really that good, creating just enough space to take a breath.
That being said, I'm sure, for a moment, my opponent thought he had won.
I had no intention of letting him think so, let alone actually score the basket.
As my defender began to pass me, I swung my right foot around, pivoting on my left foot. I let my arm trail for a second before shooting out and knocking the ball away.
I didn't wait to find out if my teammate had actually gotten control over the ball. Instead, I sprinted the other way towards the other basket. Which resulted in a big mistake.
The ball has a tendency to bounce around and more often than not, it usually bounces back to the player who had lost it. Especially if the defender is not ready to pick the ball up. Such was the case here.
I turned to look for the ball, but instead, I saw it bouncing off my teammate's leg and back to my opponent. He picked it up, and without hesitation, he rose up to shoot the ball. My teammate tried vainly to block the shot, but was too late. The ball arced into the basket, accompanied by a whoop from the player that I had guarded.
Now, I'm not adverse to a little trash talking during the games. As a matter of fact, I do a little trash talking now and then. It adds another layer to the game; suddenly, there's more at stake. Because now, you have made it personal. But, there's a boundary to how far talking actually goes. Once somebody crosses that line, there's bound to be an ensuing fight.
And this guy was toeing that same line.
My opponent had scored, and he turned to his teammates and started yelling, give me the ball, he can't guard me. I tried to pay no attention, but it was difficult. The ball came to me, and Loudmouth gave me a wide berth, so I shot and drained the 18-foot jump shot. Still, this guy wouldn't quit.
"He's no threat to me."
"We're going to win, don't you understand that?"
"He's got nothin'."
Had he known who I was, I'm sure he would have been a little more careful in choosing his words.
The score had opened up to 9 to 5 in their favor and now Loudmouth was talking more than he was playing. He constantly nagged at me every time I got the ball or every time he got the ball. And finally, I decided I had enough.
"Hey, you wanna watch that mouth of yours?" I let more than little edge drift into my voice.
"Man, shut up."
Not much of a response, but enough to really get on my nerves.
"We're killing you guys."
A four-point difference in a basketball game really mattered little so I let him know that.
"Not for long."
His response was a mere scoff.
I looked at him derisively. "Come out and guard me."
I received the ball, and saw him grinning at me full of contempt. Nonetheless, he stepped forward and lowered into a defensive crouch.
The biggest problem with trash talking to someone you don't know is precisely that you don't know what they are capable of. Such was the case here, and the poor guy had no time to react as I exploded to my right. I was already a step ahead of him and as he began to recover, I crossed the ball over to the other side. Having been caught off balance twice, he tried to reach for the ball. I didn't let him even think he could take the ball. I spun back to my right, pivoting on my right foot. By this time, I had completely shaken him off and had a clear jump shot that I nailed cleanly.
Boy, was he pissed.
He barked at his teammates and demanded that they give him the ball on the possession. They complied, and I think a part of that had to do with them wanting to see this guy get embarrassed.
Regardless, he took me out to the top of the free-throw line and went to work. He started his dribble on his right side and began dribbling back and forth between his right and left hands. He juked right and crossed back left.
The key to playing solid defense is being able to anticipate what the offense will do. A great defender, however, will skip that process, and be able to force the action, and make the offensive player to what he wants him to do. I, while not being a great defender, consider myself to be better than most, and able to, sometimes, force the action. Which is what I did here.
I saw him cross the ball over to his left hand, and I reached forward with my right hand and overplayed him on that side. He switched the ball over to his right and shot forward.
I knew I could have taken the ball from him right there. But a steal wouldn't have been as satisfying.
I let him get as far as he wanted to before forcing him to take a shot. He leaped, and undoubtedly expected me to do so. I didn't. As he went up, a flash of surprise shot across his face as he realized nobody had come up with him. In his indecision, he hesitated, albeit only for a second, but enough to let me make my move.
I waited a heartbeat before finally following him into the air. He released the ball on his way down, but I was on my way up. I ferociously battered the ball away and out of bounds. I landed and turned to him with a cold glare. I could've said something, but leaving things unsaid at this point was probably more effective in making my point.
In my excitement, I managed to knock the ball clear out of bounds, and the other team retained possession. This time, my opponent took me down low by the basket. He started throwing elbows in an attempt to establish position and as an outlet for is anger. I tried to give as good as I got, but my opponent outweighed me by 10 pounds. I tried to get an arm across his body in an attempt to deny him the ball, but in the process, got caught by a vicious elbow to the throat.
I thought my windpipe had collapsed, but fortunately, it was not nearly that bad. It did, however, leave a nasty bruise, I found out later.
Not only that, it also provided my opponent with the time and space needed to score the basket.
Eyes blazing, I called hoarsely for the ball. I tried to clear my throat, but it did nothing to soothe the pain, instead, set the nerves tingling again. I let the pain feed my anger and used the anger to focus on my opponent and the basket standing twenty feet away.
I began my move on the right wing. I knew I was better than him, and now was the time to show him just how much better. I cuffed the ball in my right hand and held it behind me at my hip. I leaned forward and let my gaze drift to my left. When I saw my opponent relax, I let a feral grin play on my lips and jabbed my right foot out, along with my right arm. Loudmouth reacted to cover the right side, but anticipating just such a reaction, I crossed the ball over to my left and avoided him. I stole forward gracefully, like a panther. Loudmouth's teammate came to help but I simply switched the dribble back to my right hand. Loudmouth had recovered and returned, joined by another defender, and I leaped forward, coming to a jump stop with the ball firmly in two hands now. I exploded to the basket and stretched out with my right arm, slamming the ball viciously into the metal rim. I returned to the ground and glared again, coldly, at the boy who was my opponent. I grinned maliciously and shook my head, mouthing silently the words, it's over.
I am Akira Sendoh. And this is my story. My story in which I was named Tensai, although prematurely, and how I learned to live up to that name. How I learned to become the best of the best. How I fulfilled my mandate bestowed upon me by others. I, Tensai...