Freddie watched the Pac-12 tournament from his dorm. The University of Southern California Trojans were pulling away from the Washington Huskies. It was just one turnover after another. At one point; Freddie thought about just turning it off. He powered through it, however, in order to show some form of solidarity for the team.

The game itself was a microcosm of the entire season. Gibby was good, Rudy was great, and Jerome was amazing; however, they were still freshmen. Injuries had forced the Huskies to play three true freshmen in big time games. Regardless of the heights one could reach in high school; there was, simply, no comparison to the pressure of a collegiate basketball game. Through no fault of their own, the team never seemed to put it all together.

While Gibby had a great deal of talent he, also, had the misfortune of being a freshman. His talent was still raw and he was one of the smaller Power Forwards in the conference. Being too small as a freshman was apparently a very common ordeal in collegiate athletics. Rudy was a punishing Small Forward. He had more power than most others at his position. However, he was lacking in ability to hit jump shots and Free throws. Against teams with better defenses he couldn't get to the rim. The teams that couldn't keep him out of the paint would, simply, foul him. He had become an offensive liability.

Jerome was the guy that could do it all. He could cut to the basket and finish at the rim. He could stop on a dime and pull up from three. He could lock you down on the perimeter. He was the only person on the team to earn any all-conference honors; making the pac-12 all conference 2nd team as Point Guard. It was almost prodigious. Any faults that he had were far too miniscule to be seen by Freddie's untrained eyes. Hank Middleton, the shooting guard and Frank Travers, the Center were seniors and were graduating this year. While they weren't particularly bad, they were wholly unremarkable.

There was a lot of talent on the floor. However, they just seemed like five guys on the court instead of one team. Freddie supposed that it was REALLY bad if, even he could see it.

Finally… the game ended.

Mercifully… the season ended.

Freddie read the score:

Final
USC: 87
UW: 65

Freddie shook his head and finally turned off his TV. He fell back on his bed. He thought of going to the University of Washington website to check the final standings but he didn't need to. He knew the record: 13 – 18; tied for dead last in the conference. He had just witnessed the end of the season: First round exit. He supposed that it wasn't all bad though.

Being forced to play early may suck now but in-game experience is invaluable. They'd certainly be looked to as the on-court leaders next season. Gibby was a work out warrior so he'd definitely get bigger. Rudy was very vigilant so he'd work harder than anyone else to get better with his shooting. For all of his leadership flaws, Jerome is still a brilliant basketball mind and he is very diligent. He won't get complacent. He isn't the type to rest on his talent.

The team as a whole was right on the edge and, Freddie knew that they would not hesitate to leap. Freddie decided that he wouldn't be left behind.

He decided that he'd turn in early for the night. He brushed his teeth and stared at his reflection in the mirror. While staring himself in the eyes he muttered to himself, "I won't hesitate either."

A couple of weeks later, Freddie and Gibby sat in the locker room after another weight training session. It had been tense for the first few days following the tournament due to Gibby's and the team's bad season and similarly poor showing in the Pac 12 tournament. They'd worked out in an uneasy tension. However, both of them knew that it would have to be brought up eventually. Gibby would have to acknowledge it in order to effectively change the flaws in his game. Freddie would have to acknowledge it because if he hoped to join the team next year then it would certainly come up again.

"So…" Freddie started as he changed into his jeans, "Rough season for you guys huh?"

"Hmm?" Gibby seemed to not be paying attention, "Oh yeah. We never seemed to play as a team. It wasn't necessarily a lack of leadership but…"

"A lack of effective leadership, maybe?" Freddie responded.

Gibby could only shrug, "I don't know. Having a majority of your starting five be true freshmen isn't exactly stacking the odds in your favor." Gibby thought again and could only shrug again, as he reached into his bag and retrieved his deodorant, "Anyway, enough about all that. How's your training going?"

It was Freddie's turn to shrug, "Well I seem to have hit a late growth spurt? Apparently it's normal for kids who are working out a lot to have one. I'm up to 6 feet now."

"Changing your wardrobe must have sucked." Gibby chuckled, tossing his deodorant into his bag and taking a seat on the bench.

"It wasn't so bad… Had to buy new pants but I can still wear my old shirts, they fight a little tight but they fit nonetheless." Freddie pulled his shirt over his head, noticing that it had become more than just a bit tight, "and eventually I'll have to get some new shirts too."

Gibby waved his hands dismissively, "I know about all of that. I'm doing your conditioning. What about your other training."

"Ahh," Freddie nodded, "Well, as I assume you know already, I took Sam up on her offer to help me with my on the court skills."

Gibby scrunched up his face, "Why would you assume I knew that already."

Freddie raised his eyebrows, "Really, Gib?"

Gibby raised his hands, "Fair enough, but no; Carly hasn't told me a thing about it."

Freddie nodded and leaned against his locker, "In any case, yeah, Sam and I have been training."

"That's pretty decent of her, considering that; you know, you're mortal enemies." Gibby pointed out, sarcastically.

Freddie couldn't argue that point, "That may be so but… You said it yourself. She was good enough to be a pro one day. Also, with you guys in the middle of a season I couldn't exactly count on you to help me."

Gibby couldn't find any basis to argue the point, "Well, how is she doing? I haven't really been able to keep up with them since we were in the middle of the season, and all."

"Well-"

"C'mon Freddie! What was that chiz!?"

They'd been at it for three hours. It was closing in on 8 o'clock that evening and the only break had been for ten minutes when Sam had to take a phone call. They'd been working on something called "shooting off the dribble"

It apparently had a number of other names but the most common were: "Stop and Pop" and "Pull up Jumper". But shooting off the dribble was going to be the term that he would hear the most during practices. They had already determined that he was good enough at hitting open shots. He could effectively hit open jumpers at 15 ft. One of the goals that he wanted to reach before the next tryouts was: increasing his range to 22 ft. Sam instantly told him that was dumb. She challenged him to take smaller steps and become effective from 18 ft.

He was currently trying… failing at hitting his 18 foot jumper.

"Listen Bentonio," Freddie could only squeeze his eyes shut in exhaustion, "You know the rules of the practice sessions."

"We'll only increase range if you can hit ten pull up jumpers in a row from that range." They recited in unison, even though Freddie could only say it through gasps and wheezing.

Freddie caught his breath and stood upright, "But c'mon Sam! We've been going for three hours without a decent break."

Sam sighed in disgust, "Fine, Whatever wimp. Go get some water and come back when you find your spine."

Freddie didn't appreciate the insult but couldn't find the strength to do more than drag his half dead carcass to the vending machine. Once he retrieved the water and guzzled down half of the bottle he made his way back to the courts to find Sam shooting. He could only watch her, mesmerized at how fluent she looked while putting up her shot. She stood at the free throw line. She then, took three dribbles and laid the ball in. She grabbed the again and walked it back to the free throw line. She aligned her shot and released.

Swish

Suddenly she jogged to retrieve the ball and dribbled to the top of the key. Turned around and set once again. This time she jumped before she shot.

Swish.

She sprinted to the ball and retrieved it once again and dribbled to the space between the top of the key and the three point line. The dreaded mid-range area. Suddenly she curved and dribbled around the perimeter and took two steps forward and pulled up and released the ball

Swish.

Freddie had been attempting that shot for the past three hours. He'd lost count of how many he'd missed but he certainly remembered looking bad while doing it. And yet, she performed it almost flawlessly. Hell, for all he knew it was absolutely perfect, but he'd be damned if he let Sam know that.

Instead of sprinting back to retrieve that ball she grabbed one of the other balls off of the rack. She dribbled with her back to the rim and picked up the ball. She faked one way and turned to the other side and rose and released the ball.

Swish.

She picked up another ball and performed another crossover move. Instead of driving to the basket though, she stepped to the side and rose once again,

Swish.

This time she dribbled around her back and rose again.

Swish.

This time a spin followed by a pump fake. Then her jab step came again. Then she jumped and released once again.

Swish.

She had been running with him since they'd started. While he felt like he was going to die, he looked on in awe as she continued pulling off moves and making shots as if she had just stepped into the gym.

"Why'd you stop, Sam?" Freddie asked before he could convince himself not to.

Sam chuckled to herself, thinking that Freddie had become delusional, "I haven't stopped anything." She punctuated her point by sinking yet another shot.

Freddie shook his head, "That's not what I meant. Why did you stop playing basketball?"

Sam stopped and faced him, with a hint of a scowl. "You know why I stopped Benson."

"No, I know why you lost your scholarship." Freddie thought over his response, "Rather, I know what action cost you your scholarship. But why not just walk on to the team here."

"Why do you care, anyway Benson?" Sam scoffed, as she walked over and sat on the bleachers "I've already got a scholarship." She looked up at him, "Besides, I've already decided that I'm going to walk on to the team next year."

"What? Really?"

"Yep," Sam shrugged, "I suppose the game never really leaves you. I'm making a lot of big changes this year."

"A lot?" Freddie inquired. He thought about sitting down but decided against it. He wasn't sure he'd get back up.

"Yeah," Sam responded. "I've decided to change my major to culinary arts."

Freddie's eyebrows rose in astonishment, "Wow, what brought this along?"

"Well, you know that I have to do community service for that incident that happened during training camp for volleyball. Well, there's this girl there, Diana, that majors in culinary arts at some small school in Eastern Washington. She cooks for the homeless in that area and she taught me a few things and I really liked it." Sam was about to order Freddie back to the court when she felt it vibrate on the seat next to her. She glanced at her phone.

She heaved a heavy sigh and pocketed her phone, "Alright. That was Diana so I gotta run. We cut this one short so you can meet me here tomorrow!"

"Cooking huh?" Gibby mused, "I can see that." Gibby stood up, "More importantly, She's gonna play ball again. That's so sick!"

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to see her beating on someone else for once." Freddie said smiling to himself.

"But yeah so your effective range is at around 18 feet now?" Gibby asked.

"Well I'm currently hitting about 7 out of 10 from pull up jumpers but if the shot is open, then I can hit it almost every time." Freddie picked up his gym bag and threw it over his shoulder. "I'm still trying to get my effective range up to three point range. Hopefully, when I get to tryouts I'll be able to be an option from behind the arc."

"Sounds like the only big hurdle will be trying to learn the playbook."

"Oh yeah." Freddie said as he closed the locker, "Rudy and I have been going over some of the basics of the playbook."

"Wait! What!? Really!?" Gibby asked astounded

"Yeah, none of the finer points, of course." Freddie stated, "And I get it, can't give away the wrinkles of your offense to people who aren't on the team. But now I feel like if I do make the team next year, I won't be so lost."

"Wow, you're really diving into this huh?" Gibby rubbed his chin as he closed his locker without putting on his shirt. "I mean I knew you wanted to win a bet but I didn't think you actually wanted to seriously turn this into such a big thing."

Freddie contemplated telling him to put on a shirt but there've been plenty of people that walked around shirtless. Why should he spoil Gibby's fun?

"Well of course. This is about more than winning a bet. It's about me being pigeon holed into a role since I was in middle school. It's about transcending, not only the expectations of you and Carly and Sam and my mother and literally everyone who's known me for the past five years, but also transcending my own expectations." Gibby simply leaned against his locker after draping his gym bag across his torso.

Freddie continued to rant, "When I left high school, all that was left for me was a shitty job and a shitty life." Freddie ran frustrated fingers through his hair, "My tombstone would read: Here lies Freddie. He was good at computers."

Gibby rubbed the back of his neck, "Fred the computer science field is nothing to sneeze at. In that field you could-"

"What Gib!?" Freddie retorted, gesticulating wildly, "Rise to the top of the Pear Research and Development division!?"

Gibby thrust a hand into the air in frustration, "There are plenty of people who would dream to have that!"

"Dream of having a dead end job that just consumes your life!?" Freddie released a violent scoff, "They can have it! That job is lonely… it's empty… and I'll do whatever I have to, to avoid that loneliness. I've been that lonely before. I've been that empty before. I can't go back there Gib! I refuse to go back!"

Gibby couldn't find a suitable retort.

"For all of my complaining about how everyone saw me, I realized that I had no one to really blame for that except for myself! I never expected to be anything more than a tech geek and so… that's all I was! Well now I'm taking responsibility for it! I'm making the change that only I can make!" Freddie pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated at being doubted.

Once he regained his composure, Freddie continued, "It's larger than basketball, for me… larger than a bet, for me… It larger than beating Sam, for me. It's about knowing that all that crap about being whatever you want to be isn't just crap. I plan on leaving college as, not only a victor over Sam, but also as a victor over myself. I can be a part of something special."

Gib raised his eyebrows, "I'd say iCarly was pretty special."

"iCarly was great but at the end of the day, the internet is infinite. There will be a thousand web shows that will bury it. But winning here; winning anywhere? That lasts a life time. I want to be a part of something bigger than myself. I had a setback this year but I will overcome it… I have to." Freddie released a breath.

Gibby offered him a smile and clapped him on his shoulder, "Sorry man, I shouldn't have put it that way. All I meant was that I didn't know how far you were willing to go." He began to head to the door.

Freddie followed after him, "Look Gib, I didn't mean to blow up on you like that. I just-"

Gibby raised his hands, "Look man, it's no big deal. It's not even a bad thing." Gibby looked over at Freddie, "It's actually a great thing. It means that there's an actual passion for the game building inside of you and more importantly a passion for yourself building inside of you. With those two things, Fred my man, you're a lock for the team." Gibby smiled and Freddie returned the favor.

They'd decided to get something to eat and walked across the campus to the Husky Den. Gibby noticed all of the females that were sending them flirtatious waves and fleeting glances. He slapped Freddie on his shoulder, "Check it out Fred." Freddie glanced around noticing the eyes that seemed to be glued to them, and yet, never on them. "Even if you don't make the team, there's still some benefit to your training, eh?"

Freddie found himself flustered, "They're probably just looking at you Gib." Freddie posited, "You are shirtless, after all."

"Oh yeah? Check this out." Gibby started to veer away from Freddie. Freddie reached out to stop Gibby but was waved off, "Trust me."

Freddie tilted his head, confused, and turned and continued to walk towards their destination. He looked around and was surprised to find that there were a great many eyes still on him. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. This was certainly a new thing for him. He figured that Gibby had been dealing with this for a while to have noticed that, not only was it happening, but also that it was happening to Freddie.

"Yo Freddie, wait up!" Freddie slowed his gait to allow Gibby to catch up with him. "Well?"

"Wow, I can honestly say that that has never happened before."

"Six foot tall with a muscular build?" Gibby scoffed, "Most girls'll go wild for that." Freddie considered Gibby's words "Add in the fact that you might be on the team? You'll have your pick of the litter, so-to-speak."

Freddie had never been that type of guy, but he'd be lying if he said the idea wasn't interesting at the very least. He looked around and decided to return a few of the waves. May as well play the game for now, right? He smiled a waved a bit more before he was approached by a girl who looked strangely familiar.

"Hi, you were in my Spanish class, right? Freddie?" Freddie tilted his head in thought. Gibby just looked on, amused. The girl continued, unfazed by Freddie's confusion and Gibby's mirth. "My name's Ellen." She reached out for a handshake, which Freddie hastily accepted. Freddie felt something slip into his hands but was cut off by someone calling from across the courtyard before he had a chance to see what the girl had given him.

"Ellen!" her friends started yelling for her, "We're going to be late!"

"Aw, shoot! I'll talk to you later, Freddie." She said tossing him a wink for good measure before scampering off to her friends.

Gibby stepped up to Freddie's side, "Well?"

Freddie looked at the paper in his hands and saw ten digits scrawled on the paper. He chuckled to himself, "I can honestly say that's never happened before."

Gibby let out a booming laugh, "Like I said… team or no team… the perks are undeniable."

Freddie could only nod as he looked at the phone number in his hands.

"Another long year has finally ended for Washington basketball. Jerome Humphries had a solid season at certain points, but this team has shown that they are, indeed, a young team. Three of the starting five were true freshmen and their most experienced starter, who, was at shooting guard, Frank Travers, is leaving. Still, they have waiting in the wings; much heralded recruit from three years ago: Steve Jenkins. He will be back and maybe, just maybe, The former four star recruit will finally suit up to start for the Huskies; that may give U-Dub the push to make that transition to something that is much more than finishing at the bottom of the conference and losing to USC early in the Pac-12 tournament. So next on ESPN College Gameday, we see other hopefuls-"

The T.V changed and it snapped Jerome out of the trance that he had fallen into while watching what the analysts was saying about his team. His team that got rough shot against a downtrodden (Well, usually.) University of Southern California squad. Led by the team's only legitimate NBA prospect, Dane Morrison. He scored 32 points and pulled bucket after bucket out of that hat of his. Jerome's throat is still sore from all the yelling he did.

"What. A. Year." Said Rudy as he sat back in his seat at the husky den. It was "Selection Sunday". The night of the year that, whether you were in or out, every NCAA basketball team watched. They'd see if their name was on the list of 65 teams selected to battle it out for a shot at the big game, or if they were left sitting in their rooms… or in places like the Husky Den, right off school grounds.

"Yea," Jerome murmured "Thanks, captain obvious."

Rudy sighed, "Rome, this is what happens with a young team."

"Usually I would agree with you, yes. But something is missing and I don't know where it is going to come from. A piece in the puzzle is missing from this board and I am hoping it comes soon before I leave this school. Either in my four years or-"

"You're not considering leaving early for the draft, are you?" Jerome for all this team's struggles won rookie of the year in the Pac-12. Giving in a strong 21 points per game 9 assists per game. All lead the conference freshman. He was already on notice as a one and done, but the NBA scouts had found ways around strict guidelines to get to him. Whether it was notices of great play in secret emails or even shout-outs from former NBA greats that is still attached with his team. Including one Charles Barkley.

"This Jerome Humphries kid, got people wanting more than just playing small ball in the middle of nowhere." Said Charles during a broadcast of NBA on TNT.

"Well, Charles," NBA Legend Shaquille O'Neal, Murmured. "As good as he has been; I still don't think he's ready-"

"I don't understand what you're talking about, ya big dummy!" Barkley exclaimed, "But you're wrong! This fella has to be at the top of most teams' draft boards! They must know that he will get better!"

"But how would you know that, Charles?" Interjected Ernie Johnson the host or "wrangler" between the analysts. "We have only seen a small sample from him."

"Ernie, you always talkin' about sample… but that sample has been impressive to the point, I have talked to NBA people that he would be top 5 draft pick if he leaves now!" Then Charles looks towards the camera. "If you are hearing this Jerome, get out of D.C. Now!"

"That right there Chuck… That right there proves that you have no idea what you're talkin about." Kenny Smith tried to say... "He doesn't even play in D.C. he's in Seattle… he plays for the Washington Huskies..."

"Washington right right... I seen this kid play and he is legitimate."

"But, you just got D.C. Mixed up with a team in the Pac-12..." Shaq murmured, attempting to forcibly interject his way into the conversation.

"Quiet down over there, Muscle Head! I am talking! Get yourself out of there and get your money now!"

"Look, Jerome," Rudy answered. "I know what people have come for you lately, but this opportunity that we have can still give you that top pick! We are this close to a National Title team. We just have to find that missing piece and make that push. There've been some trash players that have gotten high picks because they won… Now those bums are out of the league and have nothing to hang their hat on. Now, just think about it if you got a title in your hands. Think about it!"

"Hmm, I do like what Gibson brings..." Jerome stated, "He can really lock down the 4 position."

"Rome..." Rudy implored, wearily.

"And you, of course. You know that!" Jerome said dismissively.

"Yeeaah," Rudy said expecting Jerome to continue.

Jerome looked at Rudy with a confused look, "I hear we have so decent new guys coming in from high school."

Rudy sighed, exasperated "But what about Freddie?"

Jerome scrunched up his face as if his wings had turned sour, "What about that no talent hack?"

"Don't you think that's a bit harsh?"

Jerome scoffed, "I think I'm being generous," Rudy could only shake his head, "You saw him out there last year. Dude couldn't find his jumper if it was givin' him a wedgie and slappin him in the face."

Rudy just raised his eyebrows, "You say that man, but he was hangin' in there with everyone else the conditioning."

Jerome rolled his eyes, "Are we talkin' about that again? Come on dude, you know there's more to it than that!"

"Don't man, I seen his improvement!" Rudy had sat back in his seat, "You saw how fast he adapted; the kid's a quick learner."

Jerome narrowed his eyes, "And just how would you know that?"

Rudy figured that He probably shouldn't tell Jerome that he's been going over the playbook with people who aren't on the team… especially not Freddie, "He's… uhh… my Spanish tutor" it wasn't a lie, after all, "Whatever man, just know that he hasn't given up and he's trying out again…," Rudy watched Jerome lean back into his chair. "Just be ready for a surprise, and even that missing piece."

"Child please! Now pass me that buffalo wing!" Rudy chuckled as he slid the basket over to his friend's side of the table.