louisehourcade Chapter 295: Philippines vs Vietnam (3)
Chapter 295: Philippines vs Vietnam (3)
The locker room was a very quiet and safe place for the players. Outside the thick concrete walls of the Nimibutr Stadium, thousands of angry Vietnamese fans were still yelling and making a massive amount of noise. But inside the locker room, those heavy walls completely blocked the sound. The Philippine Under-18 National Team sat in total, unbroken silence. They were focused and serious.
Tristan Herrera sat in front of his metal locker. He had a damp, cold white towel draped completely over his head to cool his body down. He stared quietly at the gray tile floor. Deep inside his mind, his digital [System] interface was humming smoothly. It cast a faint, imaginary blue glow over his vision that only he could see.
[Halftime System Diagnostics]
Physical Energy Level: 91%
Mental Focus: Perfect State
Team Chemistry: 97% - Amazing
Enemy Mental State: Completely Broken
Two lockers away from Tristan, Marco Gumaba was aggressively wrapping white medical tape tightly around his left wrist. The skin on his arms was covered in bright red scratch marks from the dirty Vietnamese defenders. However, Marco was not upset about the pain. Instead, his face was split into a wide, happy, scary smile.
"Did you guys see the faces on the Vietnam players when they were walking into the tunnel for halftime?" Marco asked the room happily. "They looked like they had just seen a terrifying ghost. Or maybe they looked like they just ran into a solid brick wall. Same thing, really."
"Do not get overly confident and cocky, Marco," Joco Palencia muttered quietly. Joco was taking a very slow, careful sip from his plastic water bottle. "Having a thirty-point lead is a lot, yes. But a wild animal is still very dangerous when you back it into a corner. If the Vietnam players finally realize that they cannot win this basketball game, they might just decide to play dirty and physically hurt one of us so we cannot play in the rest of the tournament."
Gab Lagman and Josh Manio sat side-by-side on the wooden bench. The two giant men took up a massive amount of space in the small room. Both of the big men were covered in dark purple bruises from the terrible physical beatings they had taken during the first half. But neither of them complained about the pain. They were the strong protectors of the team's Orbit system. To them, physical pain was just useful data to process.
Suddenly, the heavy steel door of the locker room swung open loudly.
Coach Dante Baldomero walked into the room. His powerful, scary presence immediately made the room feel smaller. Everyone stopped talking. The coach did not walk back and forth. He did not yell or scream at them. He simply walked directly to the exact center of the room and stood there perfectly still. He let the silence stretch on for a long time until it felt almost uncomfortable for the teenage players.
"The score is forty-six to sixteen," Baldomero finally said. His voice was a low, deep, rumbling sound. "We have a thirty-point lead. You boys successfully survived the dangerous storm. You absorbed all of their wild anger and aggression. You took their sharp elbows, their deep scratches, and their dirty cheap shots. And you responded to all of that by playing absolutely perfect basketball."
Baldomero turned his sharp, dark eyes directly toward LA Morales and Ash Galang. Those two bench players had been the main reason the team survived the brutal, physical second quarter.
"You two did not fight back," the coach said proudly. "You did not give the referees any reason to call fouls on us and help the other team. That shows true discipline and control."
Then, the coach turned his head and looked at his starting five players. Tristan slowly pulled the wet towel off his head. His cold eyes met his coach's intense gaze.
"However, having a thirty-point lead at halftime is actually the most dangerous score in all of basketball," Baldomero continued. His tone of voice suddenly turned icy and strict. "It is dangerous because a big lead makes you lazy. It quietly whispers in your ear that the hard job is already done. If you boys step back onto that basketball court right now and just play safe so you do not lose, the Vietnam team will sense your weakness. They will slowly start scoring points, five points at a time. They will feed off the loud energy of their fans. I do not want them scoring points. I do not want them thinking they even belong on the same basketball floor as you."
Baldomero tapped his black marker hard against the white dry-erase board. Thwack. The sound was very authoritative.
"The starting five players are going back into the game," the coach commanded loudly. "Tristan, Marco, Joco, Gab, and Josh. We are absolutely not playing just to protect our big lead. We are playing to completely destroy their minds and end their tournament hopes today. This upcoming third quarter is not about scoring more points. It is about total psychological domination. When the buzzer finally sounds to start the fourth quarter, I want the Vietnam players begging their own coach to let them sit on the bench. Do you all understand me?"
"Yes, Coach," the starting five players responded loudly, their voices blending together in perfect unison.
"Go out there and break them," Baldomero whispered coldly.
Third Quarter Begins
Score: PHI 46 - VIE 16
When the teams returned to the court, the entire atmosphere inside the Nimibutr Stadium had completely changed.
During the first quarter, the rabid, deafening roar of the thousands of Vietnamese fans had been terrifying. Now, that loud noise was completely gone. It had been replaced by a tense, nervous, quiet mumbling. The giant sea of fans wearing bright red shirts in the stadium seats felt completely different. They no longer felt like a strong, invading army. Instead, they felt like a worried group of people who were all holding their breath in fear.
Tristan walked calmly onto the bright hardwood floor. He bent down and wiped the dusty rubber soles of his basketball shoes with his hands to get a better grip. He looked straight across the court.
The five Vietnamese starting players looked completely exhausted. Nguyen Vu, their massive, heavy center who had tried so hard to act like a scary bully in the first half of the game, was just staring sadly at the floor. All the fiery anger was completely gone from his eyes. It was entirely replaced by a hollow, desperate, heavy fatigue. He looked like a man who just wanted to go to sleep.
The referee blew his whistle. Josh Manio grabbed the orange basketball from the official and passed it inbounds to Tristan.
The third quarter had officially begun.
Vietnam did not try to run their wild, full-court press defense anymore. They were simply too tired. They slowly retreated backward into a normal, standard man-to-man defense on their half of the court. They completely lacked the physical energy to trap players or run around. Tristan slowly dribbled the basketball across the giant logo painted in the center of the court. The steady, rhythmic bounce, bounce, bounce of his dribble echoed loudly through the strangely quiet arena.
[System Alert: Opponent Defense is Man-to-Man]
[System Strategy: Target the Weakest Link on the Floor]
Tristan looked directly into the eyes of the Vietnamese point guard who was supposed to be defending him. The tired guard was giving Tristan a massive, insulting amount of open space. The guard was standing very far back because he was absolutely terrified that Tristan would use his speed to drive right past him.
Tristan did not even bother to call out a specific play out loud. He simply looked at giant Gab Lagman, who was standing near the basket, and gave him a tiny, microscopic nod of his head.
Gab understood the secret signal instantly. He abandoned his spot near the basket and sprinted fast toward the outside of the court. He ran up and set a high, punishing, solid screen directly on the player guarding Tristan. The Vietnamese guard saw the massive, muscular power forward running right at him. The guard instinctively flinched in fear. Instead of trying to fight his way around Gab, the guard just braced his body for a painful crash.
Tristan easily used Gab's screen to get open. He dribbled quickly to the right side of the court, easily dragging both his own defender and the other team's big man along with him.
"Roll to the basket!" Tristan shouted loudly.
Gab firmly planted his heavy foot on the floor and rolled fast down the very center of the painted area toward the rim. The Vietnamese defense completely panicked and scrambled. Their big center, Nguyen Vu, had to step up to try and stop Gab from getting an easy layup. But by doing that, Vu completely left skinny Josh Manio wide open on the other side of the basket.
Tristan did not try to force a difficult pass to Gab. Instead, he executed a completely flawless, perfect, one-handed hook pass. He threw the ball in a high curve directly over the heads of all the panicking defenders. He completely ignored Gab and dropped the basketball perfectly into Josh Manio's waiting hands.
Josh caught the ball cleanly. He took one powerful, hard dribble against the floor, and jumped up incredibly strong with both of his hands. Nguyen Vu finally realized his mistake and tried to recover. The tired center leaped desperately into the air to try and block the shot, but he was far too slow and too late.
WHAM.
Josh dunked the basketball violently through the metal hoop. He held onto the rim with his hands and swung in the air for just a tiny split second before dropping safely back down to the floor.
PHI 48 - VIE 16
"That is exactly how we set the tone for the second half!" Marco yelled happily, clapping his hands together loudly as he ran backward to play defense. "Welcome to the meat grinder, boys!"
The Vietnam team grabbed the ball and passed it inbounds. Their point guard looked completely shell-shocked and terrified. He dribbled the ball up the court incredibly slowly. His dark eyes were darting frantically toward his coach on the sidelines, silently begging his coach to call a play to help them. But the Vietnam coach simply crossed his arms over his chest and scowled angrily at his players.
Tristan dropped down low into his perfect defensive stance. He spread his long arms wide and kept his center of gravity very close to the floor.
[System Skill Activated: The Architect's Shadow]
Tristan did not aggressively reach out his hands to try and steal the ball. He did not need to do that. Tristan simply mirrored every single movement the Vietnamese guard made with terrifying, robotic precision. If the scared guard took one step to the left, Tristan was already waiting right there. If the guard tried to retreat backward, Tristan immediately stepped forward to close the empty space, completely suffocating the guard's room to breathe.
The large, red numbers on the twenty-four-second shot clock began to tick down quickly.
10... 9... 8...
Total panic finally set in. The scared Vietnamese guard desperately tried to force a pass over to his shooting guard teammate. But Marco Gumaba was defending that teammate very tightly. The pass was incredibly weak, slow, and obvious.
Marco easily jumped right into the passing lane. He intercepted the basketball cleanly with both hands.
"See you later!" Marco shouted joyfully, immediately taking off running as fast as he could down the empty court.
There was not a single defender in front of him. Marco had all the time in the world. He took his time, gathered his running steps perfectly, and jumped up to lay the ball very gently off the glass backboard and into the net.
PHI 50 - VIE 16
The Vietnam coach finally yelled out a play. He called a play for his giant center, Nguyen Vu, to get the ball near the basket. The Vietnam team desperately needed to score just one single basket to stop the bleeding. The Philippines had just gone on a fast 4-0 scoring run to open the third quarter. The guard nervously threw the ball down to the massive center.
Vu caught the basketball on the left side of the rim. He immediately swung his heavy elbow backward, trying to hit Gab Lagman hard in the chest to create space.
Gab did not even flinch at the physical contact. He absorbed the painful blow easily, anchoring his heavy shoes firmly to the hardwood floor. He stood exactly like an unmoving stone wall.
Vu tried to spin around fast along the baseline, but Gab was a completely immovable object. The giant Vietnamese center, who was utterly exhausted and deeply frustrated, tried to force up a wild, ugly, fading hook shot completely over Gab's tall, outstretched arms.
It was a terrible, ugly shot. The basketball completely missed the metal rim entirely. It glanced weakly off the very bottom edge of the glass backboard and dropped straight down into Josh Manio's waiting hands.
"Push the ball!" Tristan barked loudly.
Josh immediately threw a long, fast pass up the court to Tristan. The Philippine team's transition offense was exactly like a terrifying, well-oiled machine. Joco Palencia ran incredibly fast down the left side of the court. Marco ran fast down the right side. Gab Lagman trailed right down the middle like a heavy truck.
Tristan dribbled the ball right down the center of the floor at absolute top speed. The only two Vietnamese defenders left back on defense were retreating backward in total panic.
Tristan did not even look at Joco or Marco on the sides. He drove the ball deep into the painted area near the basket. His aggressive speed forced both of the terrified defenders to run directly at him to try and stop the layup.
At the absolute last possible millisecond, Tristan slammed on the brakes. He stopped moving entirely. The two fast defenders could not stop their own momentum, and they went flying completely past Tristan toward the wall.
Tristan did not shoot the open layup. Instead, he executed a very simple, incredibly soft drop pass, bouncing the ball directly backward right between his own legs.
Gab Lagman, who was still running straight ahead exactly like a runaway freight train, caught the soft bounce pass perfectly in stride. Gab did not even need to dribble the ball. He took two massive, heavy running steps, elevated high into the air, and completely detonated on the rim. He finished with a violent, two-handed slam dunk that made the entire metal basket support groan loudly in protest.
PHI 52 - VIE 16
The Vietnamese coach completely lost his temper. He violently slammed his plastic clipboard straight down onto the scorer's table, shattering it. "Timeout! Timeout right now!" he screamed at the referees. His face was bright red with pure fury.
The five Philippine starting players walked very calmly back to their bench. There were no loud celebrations. There were no jumping chest bumps. They operated with the cold, quiet, detached efficiency of focused assassins.
"They are completely unraveling right now," Coach Baldomero stated as the team quickly gathered around him. He calmly handed out cold water bottles to the boys. "They have absolutely no offensive structure left in their brains. Their giant center is completely, mentally broken. Gumaba, Palencia, I want you two to tighten up your defense on the outside even more. I want them forced into taking terrible, contested shots with less than five seconds left on the shot clock on every single play."
The angry timeout did absolutely nothing to help the Vietnam team. The psychological damage to their minds was already way too deep. The pure fear of making another embarrassing mistake had completely paralyzed their ability to play offense.
When the game resumed, the Vietnam players just held the ball far away from the basket. They endlessly passed the ball back and forth to each other without ever trying to dribble inside and attack the defense. Tristan, Marco, and Joco shifted their bodies perfectly in sync with each other. They created a scary, impenetrable moving wall all along the three-point line.
5... 4... 3...
A Vietnamese player finally realized that the shot clock was about to expire and beep loudly. He panicked and threw up a desperate, leaning, ugly three-point shot completely over Joco's tall, extended arm.
Airball.
The basketball completely missed everything. It sailed harmlessly through the empty air and landed out of bounds on the floor. It was another embarrassing turnover.
"That is great defense right there! That is a very good rotation, Joco!" Emon Jacob cheered loudly from the bench, clapping his hands.
Tristan calmly walked over to the referee to get the ball. The [Ego Meter] in his mind was pulsing with a cold, steady, confident rhythm. He was in absolute, total control of the entire basketball floor. Every single variable, every passing angle, and every tiny detail about how tired the enemy players were was perfectly mapped out inside his brain.
"Run Orbit Echo," Tristan called out softly to his team.
The half-court offensive set began. It was a beautiful, devastating display of perfect passing and fast cutting. Tristan passed the ball quickly to Marco. Marco immediately swung the ball over to Joco. Joco drove the ball hard along the baseline and then quickly kicked a pass back out to Gab, who was standing at the top of the key.
The tired Vietnamese defense was just helplessly chasing ghosts. They were always one slow step behind the fast movement of the basketball.
Gab faked a handoff pass to Tristan. Then, Gab threw a lightning-fast bullet pass deep into the post area to Josh Manio.
Josh caught the ball, but he was immediately double-teamed by the center, Nguyen Vu, and another power forward. They completely trapped him.
Instead of panicking and throwing the ball away, Josh remained perfectly calm and poised. He pivoted his feet slowly, keeping the basketball held very high above his head to protect it. He looked around and saw Marco making a fast, sneaky cut behind the defense along the baseline. Josh threw a laser-accurate bounce pass directly through the open legs of the two defenders trapping him.
Marco caught the amazing pass perfectly in stride. He jumped up and laid the ball gently into the hoop backward on a reverse layup.
PHI 54 - VIE 16
With a massive 38-point lead and total, absolute control over the game's pace, Coach Baldomero decided it was finally time to rest his starters. He turned his head and looked at his bench players.
"Emon Jacob, Aiden Robinson, Ash Galang, LA Morales, and Carlo Bedia. Go check into the game right now," Baldomero ordered firmly.
The loud buzzer sounded clearly at the scorer's table. It was a wholesale, five-man substitution for the Philippine team. All five starters walked off, and five completely fresh players walked onto the floor.
The Vietnamese fans in the crowd groaned collectively in pure sadness. The terrible sight of five completely fresh, highly athletic, fully rested players replacing the starters who had just tortured their team for seven straight minutes was incredibly demoralizing. It felt entirely unfair.
Tristan gave a high-five to Emon Jacob as they crossed paths near the sideline. "The pace of the game is completely dead right now," Tristan told his backup point guard. "They do not want to run anymore. Just execute our slow half-court sets perfectly. Give the ball to Aiden to shoot if they give him any open daylight."
"I got it, Captain," Emon nodded. His face was very serious and focused.
Aiden Robinson stepped eagerly onto the wooden floor, wiping his sweaty hands on his basketball shorts. He had just spent the last seven minutes watching the starters clinically dismantle Vietnam, and his own competitive fire was burning very bright inside his chest. He wanted to score.
Vietnam took possession of the ball. Their tired point guard, looking utterly defeated, slowly brought the ball up the court against Emon. Emon immediately applied incredibly hard, aggressive defensive pressure. He bent down and slapped the wooden floor loudly with both of his hands to scare the guard.
"Let's go! You have to work hard for everything!" Emon barked aggressively.
The exhausted guard panicked immediately. He picked up his dribble way too early near the sideline. He desperately tried to pivot his body away from Emon's scary pressure, but he accidentally dragged his pivot foot across the floor.
TWEET. The referee blew his whistle. Traveling violation. It was yet another turnover for Vietnam.
"Yes sir! That is exactly that Bench Mob energy we need!" Carlo Bedia yelled happily. He sprinted fast down the court to set up on offense.
Emon brought the ball up the court smoothly. He held up his hand and signaled for the "Orbit Beta" play.
LA Morales, the giant Anvil, set a brutal, heavy screen for Aiden Robinson over on the left wing. The sad Vietnamese defender, who was completely exhausted and covered in bruises, could not even attempt to fight his way through the massive Anvil.
Aiden popped out perfectly to the top of the three-point arc. He set his feet solidly on the floor. Emon delivered a crisp, perfect pass right into Aiden's waiting shooting pocket.
Aiden did not hesitate for a single second. He rose straight up into the air. His shooting mechanics were totally flawless and perfect, despite the heavy physical toll he had taken during the rough second quarter.
Swish.
PHI 57 - VIE 16
"It is raining three-pointers in Bangkok today!" Carlo cheered happily, heavily slapping LA on his broad back.
Vietnam's offense completely flatlined and died. They finally managed to draw a shooting foul on Carlo Bedia inside the paint, giving them a rare chance to score. But their tired center missed both of his free throws very badly. The heavy ball clanged hard and loudly against the front iron of the rim both times.
Ash Galang jumped up and safely secured the defensive rebound. His long arms easily plucked the basketball right out of the air. He threw a quick outlet pass ahead to Emon.
"Slow the game down," Coach Baldomero commanded loudly from the sideline. He held his hand high up in the air. "Just bleed the clock down. Do not rush."
Emon happily obliged the coach. He casually and slowly walked the basketball across the half-court line. He just stood completely still near the center logo, pointing out defensive assignments to his teammates.
The Vietnam team did not even bother to try and pressure him. They simply stood totally still inside their zone defense. Their hands were resting heavily on their knees. They just sadly watched the red numbers on the clock tick away, wishing for the game to end.
15... 14... 13...
With ten seconds left on the shot clock, Emon finally initiated the offense. He drove hard to his right side, easily collapsing the extremely tired zone defense. Then, he quickly kicked a pass out to Ash waiting in the corner. Ash immediately swung the ball over to Aiden on the wing.
The Vietnamese defender made a very slow, half-hearted attempt to run forward and block the shot.
Aiden smartly did a pump-fake, pretending to shoot. The tired defender weakly jumped into the air.
Aiden calmly took one single dribble to his left side. He reset his feet perfectly on the floor, and he fired the basketball again.
Swish.
PHI 60 - VIE 16
Vietnam got the ball back with a few seconds left, but they did not even attempt to take a final shot. Their sad point guard caught the inbound pass and simply held the basketball tight against his hip. He stared blankly down at the wooden floor as the final few seconds of the third quarter slowly drained away to zero.
BZZZZZZZT.
The loud buzzer echoed clearly through the quiet Nimibutr Stadium.
End of Third Quarter Score:
PHILIPPINES 60
VIETNAM 16
The Philippine second unit jogged happily back to their bench. Tristan stood up from his seat, offering a highly respectful nod of approval to Aiden and Emon for their great play.
"Zero points," Tristan said very quietly to Marco as the entire team huddled closely around the coach. "We actually held them to zero total points in an entire ten-minute quarter of basketball."
Marco shook his head slowly. A look of genuine, pure disbelief crossed his face. "I have honestly never seen a basketball team break down completely like that, Captain. They literally just stopped playing the game entirely."
[System Update Alert]
Opponent Psychological State: Total, Complete Collapse
Opponent Willpower to Win: 0%
Active Objective Achieved: Complete and Total Domination
Coach Baldomero did not smile at all, but the harsh, hard lines around his mouth had finally softened just a tiny bit. He looked proudly at his teenage players.
"Zero points," Baldomero repeated, echoing what Tristan had just observed. "That is not just playing good defense. That is a complete and total execution of their will to fight. You boys have broken their minds completely."
He turned and looked directly at the second unit players.
"The entire fourth quarter is just a simple formality now," Baldomero stated clearly. "Jacob, Robinson, Galang, Morales, and Bedia. You five boys will play and finish the rest of this game. You must maintain the structure of our system. Do not get sloppy with your passes. We must always respect the game of basketball, even if the opponent has totally given up."
Tristan sat down comfortably on the wooden bench, grabbing a fresh towel to wipe his face. The basketball game was effectively completely over.
The Vietnam team had started the morning desperately wanting an ugly, dirty street fight, but they had instead walked straight into a cold, highly efficient slaughterhouse.
The Philippine Wall had not just held strong; it had aggressively advanced forward, totally crushing everything that stood in its path.
"Just ten more minutes left to play today, boys," Tristan said softly to the rest of the players sitting on the bench. "Then we can finally focus all of our energy on the real test. The knockout rounds are coming next."