Page 87 of Off the Rim
The way he's played throughout this tournament, you wouldn't know he isn't fighting for a top spot on the draft roster. Instead, he's determined to make sure I have the highest point record in the tournament. He thinks it'll make it more likely for me to get an earlier draft pick. I'll go wherever I'm sent, and Ashton will find a way to follow me, but if I get drafted to Charlotte, it will make things a whole lot easier.
This isn't just about the game for either of us. This is about our entire future. Ashton has been dealing with so much and taking it all in stride. Standing up to his father, taking on the future of his family's company, and deciding to give up his NBA dreams to go to grad school, it's a lot. But he's on this court helping push our team to new heights and acting like my own personal post-up assistant to better my chances of success.
I want this win. Hell, we all want it, but I can't help but think about how fucking brave Ashton has been.
At halftime, after another motivational speech from Coach Burke, I take a minute to pull Ashton away just to get one good kiss in. He tastes like salt and determination.
"I fucking love you."
Third Quarter
We're able to pull ahead by two points, but it's short-lived. Purdue has proven themselves to be more than formidable, and they're able to overtake us again pretty quickly. For a while, it's a standoff, both teams making impressive pushes, but not getting anywhere. I think Dustin should get MVP for the number of times he's able to block the goal. At just under seven feet tall, he barely even has to jump to do it, but he can sometimes be a little clumsy with making sure it gets into the right hands. Luckily, there's Jackson Montgomery, who is one of our quickest and most agile players. He's been playing partner to Dustin's blocks, helping make sure we get position and down the court to attempt to score. Every time we sink a bucket, so do they. Every time they miss one, so do we. We're neck and neck for most of the third quarter, and it seems like both teams are beginning to lose steam.
One of Purdue's guards fouls Ashton during an attempt on goal. It was an honest mistake, and in no way intentional, but Ashton lands hard on his knee. I'm chosen to make the free throws, probably because I'm our team's shortest player. Several players on our team laugh at that, and even Coach quirks a grin when the ref passes me the ball. I love being underestimated. Both shots go in cleanly, and we're able to close the gap a little before the buzzer sounds.
Ashton is okay, but likely to be on the bench for the rest of the game.
Fourth Quarter
The whistle to start the fourth quarter sounds, and it becomes very clear, very quickly, that Purdue was able to refresh and psyche themselves up to finish strong. Whether it was intentional or not, they know they took out a key player. Purdue pulls ahead, hitting a few clutch shots that we just can't answer. We're fighting hard, but it's not enough.
We fall behind on the scoreboard, enough that I know it's going to be hard, if not impossible, to recover with less than four minutes on the clock.
I signal to Coach, who trusts me enough to call our last timeout. It's risky, but I have an idea.
I jog over to the sidelines and look down the line. Ashton cocks his head at me and grins, wondering what I could be up to.
"How wiling are you to go out on a limb?" I ask Coach.
He looks up at the scoreboard, then shrugs. "At this point, what could it hurt?"
To everyone's surprise, I ask to pull the scout squad, who are all mostly freshmen. It's a surprising move to fill out the entire line with freshmen, but these guys and I play well together. We know each other's strengths, and we also know the best ways to beat Purdue's defense. Despite no longer being on the scout squad since I got moved up to the starting line, I've still practiced withthem multiple times a week, and I find that learning the habits of the other team makes me a better player, so I never stopped even after it wasn't part of my job description.
Pulling them in for a huddle in the last seconds, I give them a rundown on what I want from them.
"All I need from you is to do what you do at practice. Tristan, I know you haven't gotten a chance to play in a game this big before, but you've got the smoothest shooting stroke beyond the arc on our team, if not in the whole NCAA. Chase, your defensive skills and knack for scoring in transition is vital when playing against a team as versatile as these guys. Franklin, you might be quiet, but your footwork is loud. And Landon, you're fast as shit and you've got the best eye for finding open players. Don't let anyone tell you that being on the scout squad isn't anything more than the most important job, because you're about to fucking show them what we can do."
We clap and take the court. It takes them a few seconds to get their bearings, but with me running point, and these guys getting their first taste of what it's like to put their skills on display, we're untouchable. We play the cleanest, most energetic three minutes and forty-two seconds of basketball in the history of ever. I have zero doubts that, win or lose, these minutes are going to make highlight reels and get these guys noticed for next season. It feels like a parting gift, but they deserve it.
The five of us are able to close the gap, but not enough. The buzzer sounds, and the scoreboard flashes 92-88 in Purdue’s favor.
For a moment, I stand there, soaking in the moment. The sting of loss is sharp, but not as sharp as I thought it would be. Last year, we'd barely been able to make it to the first four. No oneexpected us to make it farther than the first round this time. And yet, here we are, playing in the Final Four and giving the top team in the nation a run for their money. It's something to be proud of.
The sounds of our fans clapping and cheering despite the loss lifts me up even higher. In the crowd, multiple rainbow sweatbands are lifted high in the air, my name and number held up on homemade signs and jerseys. I've earned their respect, if nothing else.
As I walk off the court, Ashton is waiting for me. I don't need to ask how he's doing, I can see it in his eyes. There's something different in his features, something calmer. Something that wasn't there just a few weeks ago when he was facing a war with his father.
His hand finds mine, and for a moment, the world fades away. It's just the two of us.
"You okay?"
"We gave it everything. I'm happy. Are you okay?" I say breathlessly, pointing at his ice wrapped knee.
"I'll be fine." He grins and pulls me in for a hug, neither of us caring who's around or how sweaty we are.
A reporter pulls us to the side, requesting to interview us together. She shoves a microphone in my face, getting to the questions quickly so she can interview more players after us.
"Gentlemen, tough break today, but what a run it's been. Marcus, you just set a new record for the most points scored in a championship tournament. How does that feel, especially after a game like this?"
