CHAPTER 93: CHAPTER 93 :STARTER-SQUEEZING COACH

Tuesday noon, Ryan checked out of the swanky hotel K-Vibe had hooked him up with and headed to link up with the Roarers, who’d just rolled into Orvara.

As soon as he stepped into the team’s new hotel, Coach Crawford gave him a look.

"I knew it," the coach said. "You went to Carver Park and ended up playing."

Ryan raised a brow. "Wait—how’d you know I played?"

Darius, lounging nearby, cut in with a laugh. "C’mon, man, half the internet’s got videos of you balling there last night."

Ryan’s eyes widened. It clicked.

He followed the team to UmbraTech Arena, the Orvara Eclipse’s home court, for a light practice session.

The arena was a beast—sleek, modern, with a massive jumbotron looming over the court. Even empty, it felt alive, like it was waiting for the chaos of game night. The Roarers ran drills, sharpening their sets, while Coach Crawford barked adjustments, his voice echoing in the cavernous space.

Back in his hotel room afterward, he fired up his phone to check the damage.

Sure enough, the internet was flooded with clips and photos from the Carver Park showdown.

Most of the spotlight was on Cameron and Ankle Reaper, naturally—local legends stealing the show.

The comments section was buzzing. Everyone was talking about the pickup game, but more importantly, they knew it was all part of K-Vibe’s new music video shoot. Hype for the new song was already building.

Then something else dropped.

A short, rough-cut clip surfaced—barely thirty seconds—from back in Vega City. Shot inside Nox Lounge, it showed Ryan and K-Vibe onstage performing "Remember the Name."

It wasn’t high quality, but it didn’t need to be. Those few bars hit hard—raw energy, undeniable hook.

Turns out, someone who’d recorded that night never posted it—until now. Seeing the Carver Park footage going viral, they figured the time was right.

It blew up fast. People weren’t just hyped anymore—they were obsessed.

"Remember the Name" hadn’t even dropped yet—and it was already a viral hit.

K-Vibe saw what was happening and hit up his editor on the spot. "Cut the damn video. Now."

Then he posted across all platforms:

"New single ’Remember the Name’ drops in 3 days. Get ready."

The countdown had officially begun.

——

Wednesday night, 9:00 p.m., UmbraTech Arena was packed to the rafters. The Orvara Eclipse and Roarers were about to throw down, the air thick with anticipation. Both teams emerged from the tunnels, hitting the court for warm-ups.

Ryan spotted Jalyn Bryson and Jalen Wynn—his Rising Stars Challenge opponent—and gave them a quick dap, all respect on the surface.

Bryson forced a polite smile. Truth be told, he wasn’t thrilled to see Ryan. Not after last night.

K-Vibe had hit up Carver Park to shoot a music video, and somehow Bryson—the face of the Eclipse, the hometown star—wasn’t even invited.

Now Ryan was the one all over the internet, trending in his city, on his turf.

That stung. Not because Bryson wanted the fame—he already had it—but because it felt like disrespect. Like his own city had picked someone else to represent it.

Bryson didn’t say anything. But he made a quiet promise to himself:

Tonight, Ryan was getting outshined. No question.

By 9:30, the refs cleared the court and signaled for tip-off.

Just before tip-off, Ryan pulled up the system interface.

[WESTBROOK SYNC RATE: 86.5%]

Progress was still slow—only 0.1% increase per day.

The Roarers rolled out their usual starting five: Ryan, Darius, Kamara, Malik, and Gibson.

At center court, Malik rose up and tipped the ball cleanly.

Ryan grabbed the rock and pushed up the floor.

That morning’s film session had broken it down: Jalyn Bryson, Eclipse’s point guard and top gun, was averaging 25.3 points a game this season. Lethal scorer, shaky defender.

The Eclipse always had his back on D, so the Roarers’ game plan was clear—target Bryson, make him switch, and exploit him.

Ryan didn’t waste time.

First play down, he called Kamara—who Bryson was guarding—into a high screen.

Sure enough, Bryson got switched onto Ryan.

Mismatch.

Ryan blew past him with ease—but just as expected, the Eclipse were ready with help defense, rotating hard to cover Bryson’s slack.

No problem.

Ryan spotted Gibson cutting through the seam and zipped the pass to him.

Easy finish. Bucket. Roarers on the board first.

Ryan clapped hands with Gibson.

Streetball was fun—but this?

Real execution. Real chemistry. He missed this.

Eclipse’s turn.

Bryson ran the point, patient, working a pick-and-roll like a chess master, probing for an opening. He milked the clock, dribbling for a good 15 seconds—a habit fans and analysts had roasted him for. Finally, he kicked it out, but the possession ended in a brick.

Malik snagged the rebound.

Transition time. Ryan slashed through the defense, scooped it in.

Two more.

Bryson, on the other end, locked eyes with Ryan. His expression sharpened—competitive fire in full blaze.

What followed was a straight-up duel. Bryson unleashed his full arsenal—pull-up jumpers, step-back threes, crafty drives. Ryan matched him blow for blow, hitting floaters, slashing for buckets, and draining a couple from midrange.

They were trading haymakers, each refusing to blink.

But Bryson was feeling the heat. The Roarers kept targeting him on defense, forcing him to chase Ryan or Kamara through screens. His legs were fading fast, drained by the constant defensive pressure.

Still, he stayed on the court. That was Coach’s way.

Orvara Eclipse were notorious for running their starters into the ground. Even with a solid bench, their coach rarely dipped into it. Every starter on the roster averaged at least 38 minutes a night, just like the Roarers.

Only difference?

The Roarers had no choice. For half the season, they ran a seven-man rotation—Ryan’s arrival finally made it eight.

But Eclipse? They had depth. Legitimate contributors sitting on the pine. Their coach just didn’t believe in sitting his stars.

Eclipse’s 33-18 record, good for third in the East, came from that strategy—grinding opponents down by keeping their stars out there, especially during transition periods when other teams went to their bench. The Eclipse feasted on those stretches, racking up points while their starters stayed fresh enough to close.

By the eighth minute, the Eclipse were trailing the Roarers 19-24, down five. Coach Crawford started working his rotation, pulling Gibson for Sloan to give the big veteran a breather.

A minute later, at the nine-minute mark, he subbed Darius out for Lin. The scoreboard ticked to 21-27, Roarers still holding the edge.

By the tenth minute, Ryan hit the bench, catching his breath as Stanley checked in. 23-29.

The Eclipse, though? Not a single sub. All five starters stayed glued to the court, grinding it out.

Coach Lemoine’s strategy was clear—ride his horses till they dropped. In the final two minutes of the quarter, the Eclipse caught fire, unleashing an 8-4 run to close the gap.

First quarter done: Eclipse 31, Roarers 33.

Up in the broadcast booth, the two announcers—a young hotshot and a grizzled vet—were breaking it down.

The young one sounded incredulous. "Is Coach Lemoine out of his mind? Running all five starters for the full first quarter?"

The old-timer chuckled, unfazed. "What’s new, Tommy’s been doing this forever.""But it’s just a regular-season game," the younger one argued. "Not even a must-win or seeding battle."

The vet leaned into the mic, his voice dripping with history. "That’s just who he is. You remember Darian Wolfe’s injury a few years back? Game was a 20-point blowout with five minutes left, and Tommy still wouldn’t pull his starters. Wolfe tears his ACL because of it. Classic Tommy Lemoine."

The second quarter kicked off, and Coach Lemoine finally started giving his starters a breather—but barely. Each Eclipse starter sat for less than three minutes. Jalyn Bryson? Exactly two minutes on the bench before he was back in the fray.

When the Roarers’ starting five were on the floor, the Eclipse kept the score tight, trading buckets like prizefighters.

But whenever Crawford pulled a starter to rest, the Eclipse pounced, chipping away at the lead. Lemoine’s crew played like sharks smelling blood, capitalizing on every second the Roarers’ bench was in.

By halftime, the game had shifted.

Lemoine’s gamble—riding his starters for extended minutes—paid off, at least for now.

The Eclipse surged ahead, closing the half with a five-point edge: 66-61.

Both teams filed through the tunnel to their locker rooms. In the visitors’ locker room, Coach Crawford stood unfazed by the deficit. His voice was steady, eyes scanning the room.

"Five points? No sweat," he said. "They’re burning their starters out playing like that. Third quarter, I’m resting you starters as much as I can." He nodded at Sloan, Lin, and Stanley. "You three hold the line. Keep the score close."

Then he locked eyes with his starting five—Ryan, Darius, Kamara, Malik, and Gibson. "Fourth quarter, you’re going full throttle. Let’s see how much gas they’ve got left when you’re fresh and they’re running on fumes."