The call came at 4:17 AM.
Marcus was already awake, unable to sleep, when his phone buzzed with the hospital's number. He answered knowing what he would hear.
"Mr. Reed, I'm sorry to inform you that Coach Morrison passed away twenty minutes ago. He went peacefully, in his sleep."
"Was anyone with him?"
"A nurse was present. He wasn't alone."
Marcus thanked her and hung up. Then he sat in the darkness of his apartment, letting the reality settle over him like a heavy blanket.
Morrison was gone.
The man who had given him this chance. Who had taught him what coaching could be.
Marcus sat there until the room started to lighten.
---
Malik found him there an hour later, still sitting in the dark.
"Coach?" Malik's voice was uncertain. "Are you okay?"
"Morrison died."
The words hung in the air between them.
"Oh, God." Malik sat down heavily. "I'm so sorry."
"Me too."
They sat in silence for a long time. Outside, the first hints of dawn were beginning to lighten the sky.
"What do we do now?" Malik finally asked.
"We play the championship game. The way he would have wanted us to." Marcus's voice was steady despite the tears on his face. "That's what we do."
"The team needs to know."
"I'll tell them at practice."
"Coach..." Malik hesitated. "Do you need anything? Is there something I can do?"
Marcus looked at him. Malik knew loss. He didn't need the feeling explained to him.
"Just be there. That's all I need. Someone to be there."
"I can do that."
---
Practice that afternoon was unlike any Marcus had ever run.
He gathered the team at center court and told them simply: Coach Morrison had passed away. There would be a memorial service after the championship game. Right now, their job was to prepare.
The reaction was immediate. Darius wept openly. TJ punched a locker. Kevin stood motionless, staring at nothing. Jayden's face went pale. Big Chris and Marcus Williams sat together in silence.
And Malik—Malik walked to the trophy case, the one that had started it all, and stood before the photos of Jefferson's basketball past.
"He's in there now," Malik said quietly. "Part of the legacy. Part of the history."
Marcus joined him. "He always was. He built all of this."
"And now we finish it."
They stood there together for a while, not saying anything else.
---
Practice was subdued but focused.
Marcus didn't push them hard physically—they needed to conserve energy for the championship. Instead, he walked them through the gameplan, explaining Jefferson Prep's tendencies, identifying the matchups that would decide the game.
"They're good," he admitted. "Better than us on paper. But we've beaten better teams before."
"Coach Blake is going to come for us," TJ said. "He hates you."
"His feelings about me are irrelevant. What matters is how we play." Marcus looked at them. "Don't get caught up in the drama. Focus on what you can control."
"What can we control?"
"Effort. Attitude. Execution. Same stuff we've been working on all season." Marcus paused. "And how we treat each other out there. That's on us."
"Family," Darius said.
"Family."
---
After practice, Marcus drove to Morrison's house.
The place was dark and quiet. Marcus used the key Morrison had given him weeks ago and let himself in.
Everything was as Morrison had left it. Trophies on the walls. Decades of basketball memorabilia. The worn recliner.
Marcus sat in the recliner.
"I don't know if I can do this without you," he said to the empty room. "You were always there—guiding, supporting, believing. What am I supposed to do now?"
Silence.
Of course silence. Morrison was gone. No more advice, no more steady voice telling him what to do next. Morrison had been more of a father to him than his actual father ever was.
Marcus sat there for a long time. Then he stood, taking one last look around.
"I'm going to miss you," he said.
He walked out and locked the door behind him.
---
Lisa was waiting at his apartment.
"I heard," she said. "I'm so sorry."
"Everyone's sorry. That doesn't bring him back."
"No. But you don't have to deal with it alone." She pulled him close.
"I don't know how to do this. Coach always knew the right thing to say, the right move to make. I just... I feel lost."
"Then lean on me." Lisa pulled back and looked at him. "Morrison believed in you. That didn't die with him."
"What if we lose? What if I let everyone down?"
"Then you'll have tried. That's what Morrison would have wanted." She touched his face. "One more game, Marcus."
Marcus took a shaky breath. "Okay. One more game."
"One more game."
She stayed with him that night. They didn't talk much. Sometimes just having someone in the room was enough.
Marcus fell asleep on the couch sometime after midnight, Lisa's hand on his shoulder.
