Chapter 44: Hunted

The season opener against Lincoln was a statement game—but not the kind Marcus expected.

Lincoln came out with a fury that bordered on violent. They pressed full-court from the opening tip, their players attacking every possession like their lives depended on it. DeShawn Mitchell—the center who had befriended Malik last season—was gone, graduated to Duke's roster. In his place was a new center, shorter but meaner, who spent the first quarter trying to get under Malik's skin.

"Welcome to being champions," the kid hissed after a hard foul. "Everyone wants to take your crown."

"Let them try," Malik said, and scored over him on the very next possession.

Jefferson won 71-58, but it wasn't easy. Lincoln forced them to earn every point, and the game felt more like a war than a basketball contest.

"This is going to be the norm," Marcus told his team afterward. "Every opponent is going to give us their best shot. They're going to be tougher, meaner, more motivated than last year. If you're not prepared for that, you're going to get buried."

"We're prepared," TJ said. "We were built for this."

"Then prove it. Every night, every game. No days off."

---

The next three games proved Marcus right.

Westbrook—the team they'd beaten easily last season—took them to overtime before Jefferson pulled away. Hamilton changed their entire defensive scheme to stop Malik, forcing the rest of the team to carry the load. Even Northside, the worst team in the district, played them tough for three quarters.

They won all three, but the margins were razor-thin. Jefferson was 4-0, but it didn't feel like dominance. It felt like survival.

"We're grinding," Darius observed during film study. "Not flowing. There's a difference."

"You're right," Marcus said. "So what do we do about it?"

"We need to integrate the new guys better. Isaiah's still playing hero ball in crunch time. Travis doesn't know where to be in our sets. And Dominique..." Darius trailed off.

"What about Dominique?"

"He's talented. Really talented. But he disappears in big moments. Like he's afraid to make a mistake."

Marcus nodded. He'd noticed the same thing. Dominique's play was brilliant in low-pressure situations but tentative when the stakes rose.

"I'll talk to him," Marcus said. "You work on Isaiah."

"Deal."

---

Marcus found Dominique in the weight room after practice, working through a set of bench presses with aggressive intensity.

"Mind if I sit?" Marcus asked.

"Free country."

Marcus sat on a nearby bench. "How are you feeling about the season so far?"

"Fine."

"That's not what your game tape says."

Dominique racked the weights and sat up, his jaw tight. "What does my game tape say?"

"It says you're playing scared. First three quarters, you're aggressive—attacking the basket, making plays, looking like the player I recruited. Fourth quarter, you disappear."

"I don't disappear."

"You took zero shots in the fourth quarter of the Hamilton game. Zero. You had three open looks and passed every one of them."

Dominique was quiet.

"What's going on?" Marcus asked gently.

"At my old school..." Dominique stared at the floor. "I missed a game-winning shot. Free throw, nothing special. But I missed it, and we lost, and my coach... he benched me for the rest of the season. Told everyone I was a choker."

"That's terrible coaching."

"Maybe. But he was right." Dominique's voice dropped. "I am a choker. When it matters, when the pressure's on, I freeze."

"Sound familiar?"

Dominique looked at him. "What?"

"Jayden Moore. Our shooting guard. He had the same problem last year. Anxiety so bad he couldn't shoot in pressure situations. You know what happened?"

"He hit the game-winner against Westbrook."

"And the game-winning three against Central. And took the charge that sealed the championship." Marcus leaned forward. "He didn't overcome his fear by ignoring it. He overcame it by facing it. By understanding it. By developing tools to manage it."

"How?"

"Therapy. Breathing exercises. And a coach who didn't give up on him." Marcus met his eyes. "I'm not going to give up on you, Dominique. Your old coach was wrong. You're not a choker—you're a player dealing with something that needs attention. There's a big difference."

"Dr. Patterson?"

"Dr. Patterson."

Dominique was quiet for a long time. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"Okay. I'll go. But if she makes me talk about my feelings, I'm out."

"That's literally what therapy is."

"Fine. But I'm not happy about it."

Marcus smiled. "You don't have to be happy. You just have to show up."

---

As the weeks passed, the team began to find its identity.

It was different from last year's squad—deeper, more versatile, but lacking the desperate hunger that had driven the original seven. These players weren't fighting for survival; they were defending a legacy. The motivation was different, and Marcus needed to find a way to channel it.

He organized a team dinner at a restaurant downtown—the whole roster, plus Lisa and Denise Washington, who had become an unofficial team mother.

"I want to talk about something," Marcus said once everyone was settled. "Something that's been bothering me."

The table went quiet.

"Last year, we won a championship because we had nothing to lose. We played desperate because we were desperate." He looked around the table. "This year is different. We're the favorites. And that's messing with how we play."

"How so?" Malik asked.

"We're playing not to lose instead of playing to win. There's a difference." Marcus paused. "Playing not to lose means being cautious, protecting what you have, afraid of mistakes. Playing to win means attacking, taking risks, trusting your abilities."

"We're still winning," Isaiah pointed out.

"Barely. And not because we're better than these teams—because we're tougher. But toughness alone won't sustain us. We need to find our edge again."

"What's our edge?" Kevin asked.

Marcus thought about it. "Our edge is each other. The connections we've built, the trust we've developed. Last year's team played for each other because they had no one else. This year's team needs to choose to play for each other. Not because you have to—because you want to."

Silence around the table.

"I want to," Darius said. "I've never been part of anything like this before. I'm not ready for it to be ordinary."

"Same," Malik agreed. "This team is special. We just need to remember why."

One by one, the others echoed the sentiment. Even Isaiah, who had been the most resistant to the team-first philosophy, nodded.

"I'm in," he said. "All the way."

"Then we start tomorrow," Marcus said. "With renewed focus, renewed intensity, and the understanding that what we're building is bigger than any single game or season."

"Family," the table said in unison.

Marcus smiled. Some things never changed.

And that was exactly the point.