Monster (2)

A pleasant, floating euphoria washed over me.

Dunking right over two defenders clinging to me. I'd recalled my role model Vince Carter's play and just gone for it—and it worked.

Still, it wasn't perfect.

Carter would've sliced in even sharper, faced the rim head-on, and slammed it down with pure power. Me? My dribbling was still too raw, so their pressure pushed me wide, and I barely managed to finish the dunk.

Whatever. Success is what matters right now.

I headed to the free-throw line, finally noticing the chaos around me.

Baesung High's coach stood there, mouth agape. The shoe seller uncle froze mid-celebration with his arms raised in victory. And...

Oh, Coach Park Eun-ho came to watch too.

Even he was scratching his head in stunned disbelief.

Whatever. That could wait.

Right now, this free throw was everything.

Maybe it was the backlash from nailing those two threes. I'd missed all three free throws so far today.

Focus. Focus!

Thump! Thump! Thump! I bounced the ball hard, staring down the rim.

Slightly bending my knees for the bounce, I flicked my right arm to release. But my lower-body balance was off, so the shot veered—ting! It clipped the inside of the rim and bounced high.

Damn it...

Four straight free-throw misses.

They grabbed the rebound, so I backpedaled toward backcourt—beep! Baesung called timeout.

Missing four free throws in a row...

Averages for players hovered around 70% on free throws. Same as soccer pass success rates. This was like whiffing four passes straight—total amateur hour.

Hell, I'd probably hit more jumping for it.

Free throws were tricky; balancing felt impossible.

Anyway.

I could hear Chang-min ranting from our bench, telling the others to move their asses more to help me out. Then a shout erupted from across the court.

He'd racked up his third foul early in the second quarter—six minutes left—and was in foul trouble. Coach had planned to bring him back late in the third, but he wasn't having it.

Lee Sang-ho burned with determination. It was passion in a good way, but to a vet like me who'd seen it all, he was green as hell.

Too hot-headed. Body hot, head cool—that's the key.

Sure, that fiery youthful drive could shine, but this was overkill. Not awakened; just hyped. Poke him wrong, and he'd explode into mistakes.

Time to give him a taste of heat.

Game restarted with Baesung's possession.

Lee Sang-ho charged my spot with grim resolve, like he wanted a one-on-one to flip the momentum.

I smirked. “Don't push it, bowl cut.”

“Get torched here again, and coach might bench you for good. ...If you're challenging me, I'm not the guy to go easy.”

He flinched.

I'd tweaked Shin Hyun-chul's iconic line into trash talk, and sure enough, he lost his cool fast.

He raised his hand, demanding the ball from their point guard.

Whoosh! Inbound pass sailed in.

Figuring no chance in post-up, he faced up to blow by me. Tricky.

Thud! Thud! He drove in, shielding the ball, keeping it tight.

I was shocked.

What the hell's this dribble? No way to pressure the ball!

His arm shoved my body for space, even locking my arms down.

Impossible to contest like this! This bastard hid some freak skill...?

I held on as best I could, but just stalled—no real block.

“Ngh...!”

Did my frustration open a gap? He bulldozed through with heavy dribbles. I slid over to cut his path, but had to give some room.

Then—beep beep beep! Whistle blared.

“Huh.”

Figured I'd crowded his drive too hard.

But the ref pointed to their court.

He jumped in outrage. Fourth foul now—expected reaction.

Ref tapped his elbow, signaling.

Ref grabbed the whistle again. Lee Sang-ho's eyes bulged as he yelled.

No dice. Ref deemed it unsportsmanlike—beep! T-signal with both hands.

Technical foul. Ejected on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠five.

Lee Sang-ho's face drained to dirt-gray.

I rubbed my stinging side where he'd clipped me.

What? Thought it was some killer skill.

Just dirty fouls.

Lee Sang-ho's ejection pushed the game past the point of no return.

Without his minimal checks, I went full beast mode. Our Sangwon guys stepped up too.

Whoosh! Inbound to me.

Baesung doubled instantly, trying to kill the play before it started.

Chang-min, who'd passed from the left 45, cut hard to the basket. With their double on me in the short corner, that cut path gaped open.

“...”

I hit Chang-min on the run.

Their guard, watching the line, got dragged in chasing him.

Chang-min spun 180, kicking out to Shin Subin near the free-throw line.

Open mid-range jumper—cash. Points.

End of second: 52-34. Gap widened.

Third quarter flowed the same. Lead ballooned.

Park Eun-ho had filled him in. Lee Won-il gawked.

Coming from a top-3 college coach, that carried weight.

Lee Won-il shook his head, beyond his common sense.

Park Eun-ho spoke low. “Won-il, you know Joel Embiid?”

Park grinned.

“...!”

“Whoa...!”

Lee Won-il zoned out, staring blankly.

I rampaged everywhere.

Rookie mistakes slipped in sometimes. Dumb double-dribbles. Bold three-steps called traveling.

Didn't matter. Win was win.

Baesung quit midway through third. Fourth, we eased off; they clawed back. Not enough.

Final: 81-52. 29-point blowout.

I dropped this line:

Monster stats, straight up.

Game over, we had to clear out quick. Second match incoming.

Perks of first game: locker room time.

Shhh! Cool water hit my scalp.

I savored the afterglow.

Damn, that felt good.

High school level, so stats didn't faze me.

Confirming my talent? That thrilled me.

Not locked in yet, though.

Past life, I thought I had it—till Messi, Hazard, Ronaldo, Mbappé showed up.

Basketball same. Had to see the real deals first.

Anyway, training paying off—nice.

Screech! Out of shower, teammates in street clothes, waxing hair.

“You guys really hitting the amusement park?”

They grabbed bags and bolted.

Sports specialty kids thanked me sincerely.

Chang-min explained.

“Ah.”

“Good trend.”

Shouldered my bag, ready to bounce.