2K BASKETBALL SYSTEM

Chapter 293 293: Philippines vs Vietnam (1)

​The morning of the highly anticipated rematch game did not begin with the quiet, easy feelings of the Brunei game. It began with the heavy, nervous tension of a dark, scary storm that was quickly approaching.

​The night before, the Philippine team had eaten a wonderful steak dinner. Coach Dante Baldomero had told them exactly what to expect. He had warned them that the Vietnam team would be incredibly angry. The Vietnam team wanted revenge because the Philippines had beaten them by twenty-three points on the very first day of the tournament. The Vietnam players were completely humiliated. Now, they wanted to turn this new basketball game into an ugly, dirty street fight.

​Tristan Herrera fully understood the coach's warning. He stood quietly in front of the clean bathroom mirror inside Hotel Room 402. He turned on the sink and splashed freezing cold water directly onto his tired face.

​Deep inside his mind, his digital [System] interface floated in the corner of his vision. It was running its normal morning checks.

​[System Status: Optimal and Ready]

[Physical Readiness: 96% - Fully Rested]

[Mental State: Completely Locked In]

[Active Objective: Neutralize Vietnamese Aggression and Anger]

​Tristan reached out and dried his wet face with a rough, white hotel towel. Today was very different from yesterday. Today, they were not just playing a simple basketball game against a weak, inferior opponent like Brunei. Today, they were walking straight into a dangerous war against a team that felt embarrassed and wanted to hurt them.

​Downstairs in the large hotel dining hall, the overall atmosphere was very strange. It was a weird mix of nervous, shaky energy and fake, loud happiness. The teenage players sat tightly around two large, circular tables. They were slowly picking at their white plates of yellow scrambled eggs and dry, burnt toast.

​Aiden Robinson was sitting quietly at the edge of the table. His arms and legs were still incredibly sore from scoring thirty-one points the day before. He slowly ate his food, saving all of his remaining physical energy.

​"I am just saying," Marco Gumaba complained loudly to the whole table, "if I have to eat one more plain, hard-boiled egg for breakfast, I am going to physically lay an egg myself."

​Marco tossed a perfectly round, white hard-boiled egg high into the air and caught it smoothly with one hand. He was practically vibrating with nervous energy. His loud, funny personality was acting as a helpful shield to protect his teammates from the heavy tension in the room. "I really miss my mother's home cooking. This boring hotel food is slowly draining away my will to live."

​"Just eat your protein, Marco," Joco Palencia muttered softly. Joco was methodically and carefully cutting his dry toast into perfect, tiny squares with a butter knife. He smiled slightly, very grateful for Marco's loud distraction. "If you do not eat your food, the big Vietnam players are going to push you right into the crowd today."

​Gab Lagman sat quietly next to them. The massive, strong power forward was eating a giant mountain of plain oatmeal in total silence. Gab looked exactly like a giant stone boulder that was patiently waiting to be pushed down a steep hill.

​Sitting directly across from Gab was Josh Manio, the team's tall, skinny center with incredibly long arms. Josh was slowly stretching his tight shoulders. He winced in pain slightly as his shoulder joints made a loud popping sound.

​"They are going to come out swinging their fists at us today," Josh said, his voice very quiet and serious. "I saw their starting center glaring angrily at us in the hotel lobby yesterday afternoon. He looked like he wanted to bite my head right off my neck."

​"Let him try to bite you," Marco grinned widely. He cracked the hard egg directly on his own forehead with a loud thwack. He easily peeled the broken white shell off. "Their center is going to need a tall ladder just to reach your head, Josh. Besides, we easily ran them off the basketball court on day one. They can be as mad and angry as they want to be. Anger does not magically make you shoot the basketball any better. It just makes you commit harder, dirtier fouls."

​Tristan sat down at the table, holding a small plate of fresh fruit and plain toast. He looked directly at Marco and Josh.

​"If they foul you harder today, you do not react at all," Tristan reminded them, repeating the lesson from last night's steak dinner. "You do not talk back to them. You do not push them. You take the painful hit, you walk calmly to the free-throw line, and you smile right at them."

​"Smiling at angry people is my absolute specialty, Captain," Marco winked playfully. He popped the entire boiled egg into his mouth and chewed happily.

​Suddenly, Coach Dante Baldomero walked into the dining hall. His powerful, scary presence instantly silenced the entire room. Everyone stopped chewing. Coach Baldomero was not carrying his usual black clipboard today. He walked slowly to the very center of the large room, his dark eyes scanning the young faces of his players.

​"The team bus leaves for the stadium in exactly twenty minutes," Baldomero announced. His voice was a low, commanding, serious rumble. "There will be no music playing on the bus today. Nobody is allowed to wear headphones. I want all of you sitting in complete silence. I want you thinking deeply about the blood they are going to try to draw from you today. Prepare your minds for the pain. We are going to war."

​The air inside the stadium locker room was incredibly thick and heavy.

​Outside the concrete walls, the massive stadium was already completely filling up with loud fans. Because today was the weekend, a massive group of Vietnamese fans who lived in the city had packed the stadium seats. They completely turned the large arena into a bright, waving sea of red and yellow colors. The loud, angry noise of the crowd was bleeding through the thick walls. It was deafening.

​Coach Baldomero stood perfectly still next to the large whiteboard. He pulled the cap off a black dry-erase marker.

​"The starting five players for today," the coach barked loudly over the crowd noise. "Herrera will play at the point guard position. You are the heartbeat of the team today, Tristan. If the game speeds up and turns into wild chaos, you must force them to slow down. You drag the game back down to our comfortable pace."

​Tristan nodded his head once. His face was a completely blank, emotionless mask. He was already fully in his Architect mindset.

​"Shooting guard: Marco Gumaba. Small forward: Joco Palencia." Baldomero looked directly at his two fast wing players. "The Vietnam team is going to press you full court from the very first opening tip. They will try to trap you. Marco, Joco, I need you to run fast, space the floor, and provide easy passing options for Tristan. Do not hold onto the basketball. Make very quick passes. You break a full-court press by passing the ball, not by dribbling it."

​"Yes, Coach," Marco and Joco replied together in loud unison.

​"Power forward: Gab Lagman. Center: Josh Manio." Baldomero locked his intense eyes with his two biggest, strongest men. "Vietnam is going to try to bully us inside the paint today. They are going to throw sharp elbows at your faces. They are going to hit your hips hard when you jump for rebounds. Gab, Josh... you two are the Wall today. If they dare to come near the basket, you make sure they deeply regret it. But remember, absolutely no cheap shots. We will beat them with perfect execution, not by throwing punches."

​Baldomero put the cap back onto the black marker with a sharp, loud snap.

​"They desperately want a dirty street fight today," Baldomero whispered. The pure, terrifying intensity of his low voice made the tiny hairs on Aiden Robinson's arms stand straight up. "We are going to give them a cold, unfeeling machine instead. Let's go out there."

​The exact moment the Philippine team stepped out of the dark tunnel and onto the bright wooden court, the entire stadium erupted into a massive chorus of loud boos and angry jeers.

​The Vietnamese fans in the crowd were completely rabid. They were angrily waving massive red and yellow flags. They were loudly banging long, inflatable plastic sticks together to create a deafening noise.

​Tristan walked calmly onto the hardwood floor. He completely ignored the terrible noise. The [System] in his mind automatically filtered out the useless crowd sounds. He looked across the court. The five Vietnamese starting players were huddled closely together. They were jumping up and down aggressively, screaming loudly at each other to build up their emotional hype. Their dark eyes were wild and furious. They were entirely fueled by the painful memory of the twenty-three-point blowout from three days prior.

​Josh Manio stepped nervously into the center circle of the court. He stood face-to-face against Vietnam's very angry, imposing center, Nguyen Vu. The Vietnamese center looked like he wanted to rip Josh's long arms completely off his body.

​The referee blew his whistle and tossed the orange basketball high into the air.

​Nguyen Vu completely ignored the basketball flying above him. Instead, he violently threw his massive, heavy shoulder directly into Josh Manio's thin chest. He purposely knocked the Philippine center completely off balance before easily tipping the basketball backward to his own team.

​There was no whistle from the referee. The dirty play was allowed.

​"Here we go. It begins," Marco muttered quietly to himself, immediately dropping his body low into a defensive stance.

​The Vietnam point guard caught the tipped ball. He immediately put his head down and drove aggressively toward the rim exactly like a runaway train. There was no smart play-calling. There was no organized offensive set. It was just pure, wild, unadulterated anger.

​The point guard charged straight at Tristan. Tristan quickly slid his feet across the floor. He established perfect, legal defensive guarding position in front of the basket.

​The Vietnamese point guard did not care that Tristan was in the way. He lowered his shoulder and barreled directly into Tristan's chest like a heavy wooden battering ram.

​Tristan absorbed the painful physical blow perfectly. His rubber sneakers squeaked violently against the wood as he was forcefully pushed backward half a foot, but he bravely held his ground. The point guard lost his balance from the crash and threw up a wild, out-of-control layup. The ball bricked hard off the glass backboard and missed.

​Gab Lagman immediately leaped high up into the air to grab the defensive rebound. But the angry Vietnamese power forward purposely undercut him in mid-air. It was a blatant, dirty hip-check that sent Gab tumbling dangerously back down to the hard wooden floor with a heavy, painful thud.

​TWEET! The referee finally blew his loud whistle. It was a foul on the Vietnam team.

​The entire stadium instantly erupted in furious, angry boos. The fans started screaming, arguing that it was a bad call. The Vietnamese power forward stood aggressively over Gab, flexing his muscles and yelling something mean in his native language.

​Gab Lagman did not say a single word back to him. His massive, strong face remained entirely calm and passive. He simply reached out and grabbed Joco Palencia's outstretched hand. Joco pulled the heavy power forward up to his feet. Gab just turned around and jogged slowly down the court to set up their offense.

​The Wall does not react to anger.

​Joco grabbed the ball and inbounded it to Tristan.

​Instantly, three players wearing bright red jerseys violently swarmed around Tristan. It was a suffocating, hyper-aggressive, full-court press trap. The Vietnamese players were clawing, reaching, and desperately hacking their hands at Tristan's arms to try and steal the ball.

​[System Alert: Opponent Defensive Pressure is Extreme]

[System Action: Calculating Escape Routes...]

​Tristan did not panic at all. He used his strong body to protect the basketball, keeping his dribble very low to the floor. He did not try to do any fancy crossover dribbles; trying to play hero ball while trapped by three men was pure suicide.

​"Marco!" Tristan yelled loudly over the screaming crowd.

​Marco had sprinted fast to the sideline hash mark. Tristan whipped a blindingly fast, one-handed hook pass directly over the tall, outstretched arms of the trapping defenders.

​Marco caught the fast pass perfectly in stride. Because three Vietnamese players were busy trying to trap Tristan in the backcourt, the rest of the floor was completely empty and broken. Marco took two hard, fast dribbles across the half-court line. This quick action successfully drew the remaining two Vietnamese defenders directly toward him.

​"Joco, the corner!" Marco shouted. He jumped into the air and executed a flawless, quick jump-pass.

​Joco caught the basketball perfectly in the deep left corner. The tired Vietnamese defense scrambled desperately, running as fast as they could to try and close the distance.

​Joco did a perfect shot fake. He lifted the ball up, pretending to shoot. The closing defender jumped too early and went flying completely past Joco, crashing wildly into the first row of photographers sitting on the floor. Joco took one calm dribble forward into the empty space and pulled up for a smooth, easy mid-range jump shot.

​Swish.

​PHI 2 - 0 VIE

​"That is a great pass, Gumaba!" Coach Baldomero yelled loudly from the sideline. "Keep breaking their press with passing!"

​But the Vietnam team refused to slow down. They grabbed the ball and inbounded it very quickly, forcefully pushing the pace of the game to a frantic, hyper-ventilating speed. They ran down the court and missed a chaotic, rushed three-pointer. However, they grabbed their own offensive rebound by violently shoving skinny Josh Manio directly under the rim. They passed the ball back outside for another quick three-point shot.

​Swish.

​The entire Vietnamese bench completely exploded with joy. The players started jumping up and down like they had just won the gold medal championship. The crowd noise became absolutely deafening.

​PHI 2 - 3 VIE

​Immediately, Vietnam set up their full-court press again. This time, they quickly trapped Marco the exact moment he touched the basketball. The Vietnamese shooting guard was playing very dirty. He was sharply digging his pointy elbows directly into Marco's soft ribs where the referee could not see it happening.

​"Hey, you are wearing really nice cologne today," Marco quipped playfully. He flashed a bright, happy, highly irritating smile directly at the angry defender as he absorbed another painful elbow to his ribs. "But your breath smells exactly like pure desperation."

​The Vietnamese guard snarled angrily, reaching aggressively to try and steal the ball.

​Marco perfectly anticipated the desperate reach. He swept the basketball very low to the ground, pivoted his feet sharply, and threw a long, bouncing pass straight through the open legs of the trapping defender.

​Tristan was already waiting for the pass near half-court. He caught the fast bounce pass cleanly. Tristan took one quick look at the floor ahead of him. He saw giant Gab Lagman running fast toward the rim exactly like a massive freight train.

​Tristan threw a perfect, high-arcing lob pass into the air.

​Gab leaped high into the air, caught the floating basketball with both of his massive hands, and slammed it down through the metal hoop with terrifying, incredible force.

​PHI 4 - 3 VIE

​Gab landed safely, let go of the metal rim, and quickly ran back on defense. His face was still an entirely unreadable, blank slate.

​Halfway through the first quarter, the basketball game had completely devolved into a brutal, grinding, painful physical battle. The score was extremely tight at PHI 10 - VIE 9.

​The Vietnam team's strategy was very clear to everyone watching: turn the beautiful game of basketball into an ugly wrestling match and hope that the Philippines team cracked under the intense physical pressure.

​Every single rebound was a violent war. Every single screen set on the court was a painful collision of bodies. Tristan's arms were already covered in red, stinging welts and scratches from the constant reaching and hacking of the dirty Vietnamese guards.

​[System Warning: Minor Tissue Damage Detected in Left Forearm]

[System Recommendation: Increase Passing Speed to Avoid Physical Contact]

​Vietnam brought the ball slowly up the court. Their angry point guard signaled to his teammates for an isolation play. He wanted to play against Tristan one-on-one. The loud crowd roared in anticipation of the battle.

​The point guard started dribbling furiously. He threw multiple complex, fast crossovers, desperately trying to trick Tristan and break his ankles. Tristan did not look at the ball. He simply watched the opponent's hips. The hips never lie.

​[System Skill Activated: Perimeter Defense - Level 88]

​The Vietnamese guard drove incredibly hard to his left side. He lowered his heavy shoulder to initiate painful contact. Tristan slid his feet perfectly across the floor, easily beating the guard to the exact spot. The guard crashed violently into Tristan, expecting the Philippine captain to fall over or give way.

​Tristan did not budge a single inch. He stood exactly like a solid brick wall. The surprised guard bounced right off him, completely losing his balance. As the orange basketball floated freely in the air for a tiny fraction of a second, Tristan's hand shot forward exactly like a fast snake.

​He tipped the ball free and quickly dove down to the hard floor to secure it safely.

​"Go! Run!" Tristan yelled loudly from his stomach. While lying flat on the floor, he flicked a fast pass forward to a streaking Marco Gumaba.

​Marco caught the ball in stride on the fast break. However, a fast Vietnamese defender was chasing him down aggressively from behind. The defender was clearly preparing to foul Marco very hard in the back to prevent him from getting an easy layup.

​Marco sensed the angry defender coming. Instead of going all the way to the basket for the layup, Marco hit the brakes instantly right at the three-point line. The Vietnamese defender could not stop his momentum. He flew completely past Marco and crashed wildly into the padded area behind the basket.

​Marco calmly set his feet. He looked over and smiled brightly at the angry Vietnamese bench. Then, he let the ball fly.

​Swish.

​PHI 13 - VIE 9

​"You guys are pressing us, but you are definitely not impressing anyone!" Marco yelled loudly. He pointed two fingers directly at his own eyes, and then pointed them at the Vietnamese point guard on the floor. "I see absolutely everything you try to do!"

​The Vietnam coach immediately called a timeout to stop the bleeding.

​The momentum of the game had completely shifted. The raw, angry emotional energy that the Vietnam team had relied on for the first six minutes was rapidly burning out. It was quickly being replaced by heavy, tired legs and lungs that burned painfully for oxygen. The Philippine team, on the other hand, was just getting warmed up.

​When the game finally resumed, the Vietnam offense looked incredibly slow and sluggish. Their tired point guard tried to force a lazy pass into the post area, but Josh Manio's incredibly long arms were waiting for it. Josh easily deflected the bad pass, tipped the ball to himself, and handed it off to Tristan to start the offense.

​"Orbit Gamma!" Tristan called out loudly, raising a single fist high into the air.

​The machine finally engaged. The Philippine half-court offense became a beautiful blur of constant motion. Gab set a crushing, perfectly legal screen for Joco. Marco cut fast along the baseline. Josh flashed quickly up to the high post area.

​The Vietnamese defense was completely exhausted from constantly running their own full-court press. Because they were tired, they were a half-step too slow on every single defensive rotation.

​Tristan threw a crisp pass to Josh at the free-throw line. Josh instantly handed the ball off to a fast-cutting Joco Palencia.

​Joco caught the ball and drove hard toward the rim. The Vietnamese center, Nguyen Vu, was forced to step up to try and block Joco's shot. This desperate move left Gab Lagman completely wide open under the basket.

​Joco saw the opening and threw a beautiful wrap-around pass. Gab caught the ball cleanly. Vu panicked. The center spun around quickly and wrapped his thick, heavy arms directly around Gab's neck. It was a flagrant, dangerous, dirty foul designed purely to pull Gab to the floor and stop the dunk.

​Gab was fouled so incredibly hard that his body was dragged forcefully backward. But the massive power forward simply gritted his teeth against the pain. He muscled straight through the dangerous chokehold and gently flipped the basketball up off the glass backboard as he was falling down to the floor.

​And one. The ball went in.

​The referee's whistle blew violently. The entire Philippine bench erupted with cheers. Coach Baldomero did not celebrate or smile; he just nodded his head slowly in cold, strict approval.

​Gab stood up slowly, completely ignoring the glaring, angry Vietnamese center who had just tried to hurt him. Gab walked calmly to the free-throw line. His face was a mask of absolute, pure boredom. He easily sank the penalty free-throw shot.

​PHI 16 - VIE 9

​The final minute of the first quarter was a pure, cold execution.

​The Vietnam team was physically and mentally completely shattered. Their plan for a dirty "street fight" had resulted in nothing but terrible foul trouble and massive physical exhaustion for their own players. Meanwhile, the Philippines team had simply absorbed the painful blows and kept running their cold, unfeeling offensive algorithms perfectly.

​With exactly twenty seconds left in the quarter, Tristan slowly walked the ball up the court.

​Vietnam did not even attempt to press him this time. They sadly sagged backward into a lazy 2-3 zone defense. The Vietnamese players were resting their heavy hands on their knees, their chests heaving up and down as they gasped for air.

​Tristan stopped completely near the giant half-court logo. He calmly looked up at the large shot clock above the basket.

​15... 14... 13...

​The Vietnamese point guard, who was standing far away at the top of the three-point line, gestured angrily with his hands. He wanted Tristan to come closer and play.

​Tristan did not move a single muscle. He simply stared back at the tired point guard. Tristan's dark eyes were cold, calculating, and utterly devoid of any human mercy. The [Ego Meter] deep in his mind flared with a brilliant, pulsing blue light.

​8... 7... 6...

​"Just shoot it from right there, Captain!" Marco yelled loudly from the wing, clapping his hands together happily.

​The Vietnamese guard finally realized what was happening. He took a hesitant, slow step forward, but it was far too late.

​Tristan did not set up a team play. He did not call for an Orbit motion. With exactly four seconds left on the game clock, Tristan was standing a full five feet behind the normal three-point arc. He was standing right on the very edge of the center-court logo. Tristan casually jumped up and shot the basketball from incredibly far away.

​The loud arena suddenly fell into a completely stunned, dead silence as the orange ball floated high up into the rafters.

​BZZZZZT. The loud first-quarter buzzer finally sounded.

​The basketball snapped directly through the net with a sharp, violent crack.

​Swish.

​Tristan had already turned his back before the ball even hit the floor. He started walking calmly toward the Philippine bench to get some water.

​First Quarter Score:

PHILIPPINES: 25

VIETNAM: 11

​Marco Gumaba happily met Tristan near the sideline, wrapping the team captain in a brief, aggressive, joyful headlock. "That was so cold-blooded! You just broke all of their hearts with that deep shot, Captain!"

​Tristan grabbed his plastic water bottle from the team trainer. His breathing was perfectly steady, and his heart rate was entirely controlled. He looked across the court toward the sad Vietnamese bench. Their exhausted players were sitting in complete, stunned silence. They were finally realizing that all of their wild anger had been entirely useless.

​"They really wanted a street fight today," Tristan said quietly to Marco, using a towel to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "But you cannot punch a solid Wall."