infodatos Chapter 282: Philippines vs Myanmar
Chapter 282: Philippines vs Myanmar
The bright morning sun of Bangkok, Thailand, shined warmly through the giant glass windows of the Grand Rama Hotel restaurant. It was only 7:00 AM, but the massive dining room was already full of life and amazing smells.
The hotel had set up a breakfast buffet that was so huge and beautiful it would make a normal tourist want to cry with happiness. There were long tables covered in every type of food you could imagine. There was a cooking station where friendly chefs in tall white hats were making fresh, hot eggs with cheese and vegetables. There were large wooden baskets filled with hot, steaming Chinese dumplings. There were huge metal trays piled high with sweet tropical fruits: bright pink dragon fruit, soft orange papaya, and juicy yellow mangoes. Another table held large pans filled with spicy Thai fried rice and rich, warm curry.
But Table Number 4, a very long, rectangular wooden table sitting right in the middle of the room, was completely different. It was a zone of total, boring sadness and super strict rules.
The fifteen boys of the Philippine Under-18 National Team sat together at this table in complete silence. They were not allowed to eat the delicious hotel food. Their plates all looked exactly the same. The team's strict food doctor had ordered a special, boring meal for them, and Coach Dante Baldomero was sitting at a small table right next to them to make sure they ate it. The coach was quietly drinking a cup of dark, bitter black coffee and watching his players with scary, sharp eyes.
"I had a dream about crispy bacon last night," giant Josh Manio whispered very quietly. He used his silver fork to poke sadly at a large pile of plain, boiled white chicken breast and completely plain white rice on his plate. "I can actually see the bacon on that table over there. It looks so hot and crispy. It is calling my name, guys."
"Do not even look at the bacon," Gab Lagman warned him in a deep, rumbling voice. Gab was carefully cutting his plain, hard-boiled eggs into perfect little squares. "Bacon is full of bad fat. Bacon will make your body slow. Bacon brings heavy sluggishness. Do you want to be slow and tired when we play against Myanmar today?"
"I just want to be happy," Manio sighed a long, sad sigh, but he finally put a piece of the boring, dry chicken into his mouth and chewed it slowly.
Tristan Herrera sat straight up at the very head of the long table. He was the team captain, the "Ace." His breakfast plate was the most boring of all. He only had a bowl of plain, hot oatmeal, two yellow bananas, and a small piece of grilled white fish. He did not care about how it tasted. To him, food was not supposed to be fun anymore. Food was just fuel for his muscles. Nothing more.
He slowly looked around the table at his teammates. They all looked wide awake, but he could feel a thick, heavy tension hiding in the air. The sounds of their forks and knives hitting their plates were too fast and too loud. They were nervous. Today was their very first real game.
Joco Palencia was aggressively scraping a tiny bit of butter onto a piece of dry brown toast.
"The players from Myanmar are very small," Joco said, finally breaking the quiet silence at the table. "I stayed up late reading their team list again last night. Their tallest player, their center, is only 6 feet and 4 inches tall. That is the exact same height as Tristan! Manio is seven feet tall. Manio is going to look like a giant Godzilla monster standing next to them on the court."
"Being super tall does not matter at all if you cannot catch them," Marco Gumaba pointed out. Marco was slowly peeling the skin off a bright orange. "They are very scrappy and fast. Do you remember the video we watched last night? They dive on the hard floor to grab loose basketballs like their lives depend on it."
"Then let them dive on the floor," Tristan said in a very calm, flat voice. His strong voice instantly cut through the nervous talking. "We play our game high up in the air, above the rim of the basket. We do not need to dive on the dirty floor if we never let the ball touch the floor in the first place."
The whole team stopped eating and looked at him. Their Ace had spoken, and his confidence made them feel a little bit stronger.
Tristan picked up his plastic bottle and finished drinking his clear water.
"Eat all of your food quickly," Tristan commanded them. "We have a big job to do today. Remember the goal Coach gave us. We must win by fifty points."
An hour later, back upstairs in their shared hotel room, the air felt very thick. It smelled like fresh soap, strong deodorant, and nervous sweat.
Young Aiden Robinson was pacing back and forth across the carpeted floor. He was walking from the window to the door and back again. He was so nervous that he had already untied and tied the laces on his basketball shoes three different times.
"Captain, what happens if I miss my very first shot today?" Aiden asked suddenly. His young voice cracked and squeaked a little bit because his throat was so tight. "I mean... this is a real international game! People are watching this on television back home in the Philippines! What if I mess up on TV?"
Tristan was standing quietly in front of the large bathroom mirror. He was pulling his clean, navy-blue team jersey over his head. The bright white number #10 was printed on his chest.
He looked at his own reflection in the mirror. Instantly, the magical blue light of his System interface popped up and floated in the air right next to his head.
[Match Day Alert: PILIPINAS vs MYANMAR]
Physical Body Condition: 100% Peak Health.
Mental Brain State: Completely Locked In and Focused.
Tristan turned away from the magic screen and looked at young Aiden. He walked across the room and placed his large, heavy hand on Aiden's shaking shoulder. His grip was very firm and strong.
"Aiden, do you know the real reason why you are on this team?" Tristan asked him quietly.
"Because... because I am good at shooting the ball?" Aiden guessed, looking down at his shoes.
"No. You are here because you fit perfectly into our Orbit System," Tristan corrected him. "You do not need to be a brave hero today, Aiden. You do not need to do anything special. You just need to run to the exact spot where I tell you to stand. If I throw the basketball to you, it means you are wide open. And if you are open, you just shoot the ball. Do you understand? I have already done all the hard thinking for you. Just let your arms do the work."
Aiden blinked his eyes a few times. It was not exactly a warm, happy, or fuzzy sports speech. But strangely, it really worked. The heavy, scary pressure of having to make smart choices suddenly vanished from the young boy's mind. He realized he just had to be a tool for his captain.
"Right. You do the thinking. I just catch the ball and shoot it. I got it," Aiden said, finally taking a deep breath and standing still.
Tristan picked up his heavy black gym bag and threw it over his wide shoulder.
"Let us go to war."
The bus ride to the basketball arena was completely silent. Every single player had giant headphones covering their ears. Nobody was talking. They all stared straight ahead at the back of the bus seats.
When the purple bus finally arrived at the Nimibutr Stadium, the whole feeling of the day changed. As soon as they stepped out of the hot, sticky, and bright parking lot and walked into the dark tunnels of the stadium, the air became freezing cold from the giant air conditioners.
There were many other teams from different countries walking around the wide concrete hallways.
The Philippine boys walked past the team from the small country of Brunei. The Brunei players stopped walking and stared at the giant Filipino boys with wide, scared eyes. They could not believe how tall Josh Manio and Jonas Singson were.
And then, they saw them.
Walking right toward them from the opposite end of the long hallway was the Thailand Under-18 Team.
The Thai boys walked with a very confident, bouncy swagger. They looked like they owned the entire building. They were wearing bright red and shiny gold warm-up jackets.
Walking at the very front of their group was a boy who was not very tall. He was probably only 6 feet and 1 inch tall. But the way he walked was amazing to watch. He moved with incredibly smooth, quick, and easy steps, like a wild cat hunting in the jungle. The tips of his dark hair were dyed bright blonde. And on his feet, he was wearing a pair of incredibly bright, neon-pink basketball shoes.
This was Suphawat. The Thai Ace. The superstar of the tournament.
As the two groups of boys walked closer and passed each other in the middle of the hallway, time seemed to slow down completely.
Suphawat turned his head and looked directly at Tristan. The Thai boy was chewing a piece of pink bubblegum. He looked completely relaxed, like he did not have a single worry in the world. He blew a big pink bubble with his gum and popped it loudly. He did not smile. He did not wave. He just stared deeply into Tristan's eyes, looking him up and down, calculating his size and strength.
Tristan did not stop walking. He did not slow down his steps at all. He looked straight back into Suphawat's eyes. Tristan's face was as cold and hard as gray stone. He showed absolutely zero emotion.
Deep inside Tristan's chest, his massive basketball "Ego" suddenly flared up like a hot fire.
[System Warning: Rival Player Detected in the Area.]
[Threat Level: Extremely High.]
They walked past each other without saying a single word.
"Did you guys see his crazy shoes?" Joco Palencia whispered loudly as soon as the Philippine team walked through the door into their private locker room. "They were bright pink! So flashy and annoying."
"He just wants people to look at him. He wants all the attention," Gab grunted angrily, dropping his heavy bag onto a wooden bench. "We will be happy to give him plenty of our attention when we play against him on Wednesday."
Coach Baldomero stood in the very center of the quiet locker room. He had a large white board on wheels behind him. There was only one single word written in big black marker on the board:
EXECUTION.
"The Myanmar team is going to play a special defense today called a zone," Baldomero predicted to his players. "They know they are too small and too slow to guard you one-on-one. So, they will pack all their players tightly together near the basket. They want to block the painted area. They want to make it impossible for us to run inside. They want to force us to shoot the ball from far away."
He turned his head and looked sharply at Tristan.
"Herrera, you are our main weapon today. You are the probe. I want you to take the ball and drive hard right into the middle of their tight zone. You will crash into their defense. If their players get scared and stay back, you will simply score the ball yourself. But if they all run toward you to block you, you will kick the ball out to your teammates."
The coach then pointed his finger at Marco the sniper and Joco the scorer.
"If Tristan passes the ball out and it touches your hands, I want that ball flying in the air toward the hoop in less than 0.5 seconds. Do not hold the ball. Do not think about it. Absolutely no hesitation today."
The boys all nodded their heads together. They understood the simple, brutal plan.
"Pilipinas on three," Coach Baldomero said, putting his hand in the middle of the circle.
Fifteen hands slapped on top of his.
"One, two, three..."
"PILIPINAS!" they roared, their deep voices shaking the walls of the locker room.
The giant stadium was not completely full of people because it was a Monday morning and most people were at work or school. But there was still a very good crowd of Filipino people who lived and worked in Thailand sitting in the seats. They were holding up small Philippine flags and cheering loudly.
"LET'S GO PILIPINAS!" a loud group of older Filipino aunties shouted happily from the top row.
The game began with the tip-off in the center circle.
It was seven-foot-tall Josh Manio jumping against the short center from Myanmar. It was not even a fair contest. Manio easily slapped the orange ball backward through the air right into Tristan's waiting hands.
The game was officially on.
Tristan slowly dribbled the ball up the shiny wooden court. He looked at the Myanmar defenders. They looked very nervous and sweaty already. Just like Coach Baldomero had guessed, they set up in a 2-3 zone defense. Two players stood near the free-throw line, and three players stood close to the basket, creating a wall of bodies.
It was completely predictable.
Tristan held up his left hand and showed two fingers to his teammates. This was the secret hand signal for the play called Orbit Alpha.
Immediately, giant Gab and Singson ran fast toward the free-throw line.
Tristan threw a hard, fast pass to Gab.
The Myanmar defenders panicked. Their guard jumped forward to try and steal the ball from Gab's big hands.
But Gab did not even look at the hoop. As soon as he caught the ball, he threw a fast bounce pass right between the defender's legs.
Tristan was already running at full speed toward the basket. The pass bounced perfectly right into his hands so he did not have to slow down.
Tristan caught the ball, took one giant, powerful step with his left foot, and exploded upward into the air like a rocket ship.
BOOM.
Tristan smashed the ball through the orange metal rim with both of his hands. It was a massive, violent slam dunk for the very first points of the big tournament.
The heavy metal rim shook loudly. The Filipino crowd in the seats jumped to their feet and roared with happiness.
Tristan landed safely on his feet. He did not scream. He did not flex his arm muscles. He did not dance. He simply pointed one finger at Gab to say 'good pass,' and then he turned around and ran back to play defense.
The entire first quarter of the game looked like an unfair basketball clinic.
The size difference between the two teams was just too huge. The boys from Myanmar were quick and brave, but every single time they tried to run close to the basket to shoot a layup, they crashed painfully into the Great Wall of Gab, or they got blocked by the incredibly tall arms of Josh Manio.
Block. Rebound. Long pass.
That was the pattern.
Tristan caught a long pass from Manio. He was running as fast as he could down the court. It was a 3-on-1 fast break. It was Tristan, Marco, and Joco running against only one small, terrified Myanmar defender.
The poor defender had no idea who to guard.
Tristan looked directly at Marco running on the right side. The defender panicked and jumped to the right to stop Marco.
But it was a trick. Tristan quickly wrapped the ball all the way behind his own back and softly laid it into the hoop for an easy two points.
[Score at the end of the 1st Quarter]
Philippines: 32
Myanmar: 8
Even though they were winning by twenty-four points, Coach Baldomero was not smiling at all when the team sat on the bench for a quick rest.
During the two-minute timeout, the coach was drawing angry red lines on his whiteboard.
"Can someone please explain to me why we allowed them to score 8 points?" Baldomero demanded in an angry whisper. "Two of those baskets were wide-open, easy layups because Joco Palencia fell asleep and stopped paying attention to his man. If you fall asleep like that when we play against Thailand on Wednesday, that boy Suphawat will completely bury you in the ground!"
"I am sorry, Coach. It will not happen again," Joco muttered, using a white towel to wipe the heavy sweat off his face.
"Tristan," Baldomero barked sharply. "Stop playing games with your food. A few minutes ago, you had a wide-open shot near the basket, but you decided to pass the ball to Manio instead. Manio has heavy stone hands today and he dropped it. I need you to be selfish. Shoot the ball yourself."
"Understood, Coach," Tristan nodded his head.
When the second quarter started, a scary shift happened on the court.
Tristan stopped passing the ball to make his friends look good. He turned into a cold, hungry hunter.
He dribbled the ball slowly at the top of the three-point line. He was completely alone with the Myanmar point guard.
[Skill Badge Activated: Ankle Breaker (Silver Level)]
Tristan did a lightning-fast crossover dribble to his left side, and then instantly pulled the ball back to his right side. The move was so fast and violent that the poor defender's feet got tangled up. The boy lost his balance and fell backward, crashing flat onto the hard wooden floor.
Tristan calmly took one step backward, set his feet perfectly behind the line, and shot the ball.
Swish. Three points.
On the very next play, Gab slapped the ball away to get a steal.
Tristan grabbed the loose ball and ran completely by himself all the way to the other end of the court. He did a tricky zigzag step around two different defenders and gently tossed the ball high up off the glass backboard and into the net.
By the time the loud buzzer rang to end the first half of the game, the scoreboard looked like a terrible mistake.
[Halftime Score]
Philippines: 65
Myanmar: 18
Tristan already had an amazing 24 points, 8 assists, and 6 rebounds, and he had only played for eighteen minutes.
When the third quarter began, the Myanmar team looked totally broken and defeated. They were so physically exhausted that they were bending over and resting their hands on their knees to breathe. The terrible, painful training program that Coach Baldomero had forced the Philippine team to do for six months was finally showing its true value. The Filipino boys were not tired at all.
Baldomero decided to take his starting players out of the game to rest, but he left Tristan on the court.
"You play for five more minutes," Baldomero ordered Tristan. "You need to help the bench players get into a good, fast rhythm."
This was finally young Aiden Robinson's big moment.
Tristan dribbled the ball hard into the middle of the painted area, pulling three tired defenders toward him. He used his amazing vision to look into the far corner of the court.
He saw Aiden standing there completely alone. Aiden's hands were up and ready to catch the ball.
Tristan threw a perfect, fast pass to the corner.
Aiden caught the rough orange leather. He remembered his captain's simple advice. Do not think. Just shoot the ball.
Aiden jumped up into the air with perfect, beautiful shooting form. He released the ball.
Swish.
"That was a great shot, Aiden!" Tristan yelled happily, giving the young boy a loud high-five as they ran back to the other side.
Aiden smiled a huge, bright smile. All of his scary nerves were completely gone now.
Tristan was finally taken out of the game with four minutes left in the third quarter. He sat comfortably on the soft bench and wrapped a large white towel around his shoulders. He drank cold water and watched his teammates continue the total destruction.
The big bench players, Carlo Bedia and Larson Callao, scored easily against the tired defenders again and again.
[Final Game Buzzer]
PILIPINAS: 118
MYANMAR: 42
It was a completely massive 76-point victory. They had easily reached their goal of winning by fifty points.
The two teams walked to the center of the court to shake hands. The boys from Myanmar looked shocked and sad, but they were very polite and respectful.
"That was a very good game," the Myanmar team captain said quietly in broken English, shaking Tristan's hand. "You and your team are... incredibly strong."
"Thank you very much," Tristan nodded his head politely. "Good luck with the rest of your tournament games."
When the Philippine team got back into their locker room, the boys were very happy. The heavy stress was gone.
"Did you guys see my huge dunk?!" Josh Manio yelled loudly, trying to hype himself up. "I jumped so high I almost broke the rim off the backboard!"
"Please be quiet, Godzilla. I also saw you miss an incredibly easy, wide-open layup in the second quarter," Joco Palencia teased him, throwing a wet towel at Manio's head.
Suddenly, Coach Baldomero walked through the door. The loud, happy room instantly went dead silent.
He looked down at the official stat sheet paper in his hand.
"We scored 118 points today. That is very good offense," the coach said slowly.
He paused for a long time.
"But you allowed them to score 42 points. That is completely unacceptable to me. I specifically told you that our goal was to keep them under 40 points."
All the boys dropped their heads and deflated like popped balloons.
"However," Baldomero continued, his voice softening just a tiny bit, "your passing rotations were very fast and crisp. The new Orbit System worked perfectly. Go take your showers right now and put your clean tracksuits back on. But do not pack your bags. We are not leaving the stadium yet."
"We are staying here?" Gab asked, looking confused.
"Yes," Coach Baldomero said, pointing his finger toward the door. "Game 2 of the day is starting in exactly thirty minutes. It is the host country, Thailand, playing against Brunei. We are going to go back out there and watch them play."
Thirty minutes later, the fifteen boys of the Philippine team sat high up in the top rows of the stadium seats. They were all wearing their matching navy-blue team jackets. They tried to sit quietly and blend in, but because they were so incredibly tall, everyone in the building could see them.
The stadium was completely full of people now. Thousands of local Thai high school students and basketball fans had poured into the building. They were loudly banging huge drums and blowing plastic horns.
"THAI-LAND! THAI-LAND! THAI-LAND!"
The screaming chant was so loud it hurt Tristan's ears.
The two teams walked out onto the bright wooden floor.
The poor boys from Brunei looked absolutely terrified of the loud noise. But the boys from Thailand looked like they were at a fun birthday party.
Tristan watched Suphawat carefully. The Thai star was literally dancing to the loud drum music during their warm-up time. He was smiling brightly at the crowd and doing silly soccer tricks, bouncing the heavy basketball off his knees and feet.
"Just look at that guy," Marco whispered, leaning over to Tristan. "He is not taking this seriously at all. He is treating a real international tournament like it is just a funny magic show."
"Let us see if he actually knows how to play real basketball," Tristan said. His dark eyes narrowed in focus.
The referee blew his whistle, and the game started.
It was completely different from the game the Philippines had just played. The Philippine team played like a perfect, heavy, robotic machine that slowly crushed everything in its path.
But Thailand played like rushing water.
They were fast. They were incredibly, unbelievably fast.
Suphawat caught the basketball on the left side of the court. He did not wave his hand to call a secret play. He did not wait for a teammate to come set a screen to block for him.
He simply looked at the defender standing in front of him. Suddenly, Suphawat did a rapid-fire series of crossover dribbles. Tap-tap-tap. The orange ball moved back and forth between his hands so incredibly fast that it looked like a blurry circle.
Before the defender could even blink, Suphawat wrapped the ball behind his back, spun his body around in a fast circle, and threw a completely blind, no-look pass right to his teammate who was running to the basket for a super easy layup.
The huge Thai crowd screamed and jumped out of their seats.
"Wow, he is very flashy," Joco Palencia noted, trying to act like he was not impressed. "But that is a very risky way to play. That fancy pass easily could have been stolen."
"He knew it would not be stolen," Tristan observed quietly, his eyes tracking Suphawat's every movement. "He moved his eyes to trick the defender into looking the wrong way. He baited him into a trap."
A few minutes later, Suphawat got the ball again while running fast down the court. He was alone, one-on-one against a Brunei guard. Suphawat ran as fast as he could toward the basket, stopped his body completely on a dime, and jumped backward to shoot a very difficult fading jump shot.
Swish.
As soon as the ball went through the net, Suphawat ran forward and quickly stole the ball right out of the Brunei player's hands before he could even pass it.
But instead of turning around and shooting an easy layup close to the basket, Suphawat did something crazy. He dribbled the ball all the way backward, stood behind the three-point line, and shot a long three-pointer.
Bang. Another perfect shot.
"He is the main engine of their entire team," Coach Baldomero said. The coach was standing in the row right behind the boys, watching closely. "That boy plays with pure, natural instinct. He does not run memorized plays like we do. He creates total chaos on the floor, and his teammates know how to thrive inside that chaos."
"How in the world are we supposed to stop him?" young Aiden asked. He looked completely mesmerized and a little bit scared by the Thai player's speed.
"We stop him by not playing his silly game," Tristan answered instantly. He did not take his eyes off the court for a single second. "If we try to run fast and jump with him, we will lose. So, we will force him to slow down. We will force him to play a slow, half-court game. We will force him to crash into the Wall."
Tristan slowly turned his head and looked at giant Gab.
Gab nodded his heavy head slowly, understanding his important job. "I will be waiting for him right under the basket. The Wall will be ready."
When the final buzzer rang, the score was another terrible blowout.
Thailand: 105
Brunei: 50
Suphawat had finished the game with 28 points and 12 assists, and he had only played for twenty short minutes.
As the winning Thai team walked happily off the court to go to their locker room, Suphawat stopped walking. He looked high up into the stadium seats.
He knew exactly where the Philippine team was sitting.
He found the large block of boys wearing navy-blue jackets. He found Tristan Herrera.
Suphawat raised his right hand in the air. He extended his pointer finger and his thumb to make the shape of a gun. He pointed his fake finger-gun directly at Tristan, gave him a big, cheeky wink, and pretended to "fire" the gun.
Tristan did not flinch. He did not look away. He did not show any anger or emotion on his face.
But deep inside his mind, the magical System flashed a bright, warning red color.
[System Alert: A Direct Rival Challenge Has Been Issued.]
[Target Matchup: Wednesday, 2:00 PM.]
[Status of Battle: INEVITABLE.]
"Okay, let us go back to the hotel," Tristan said, standing up out of his plastic seat very quickly. "I have seen enough of his tricks for one day."
"He is really, really good, Captain," Marco whispered quietly to Tristan as they walked out the exit doors into the hot sun.
"Yes, he is," Tristan agreed calmly. "But he is out there playing all by himself. We have the Orbit System. We are a machine."
That night, the team returned to the Grand Rama Hotel. The happy, excited feeling from their huge 76-point victory had completely evaporated into thin air. It was replaced by the cold, sobering reality of how fast and dangerous the Thai team truly was.
Coach Baldomero decided to call for a "Mental Rest" evening. He did not schedule any heavy film meetings or long strategy talks. He just told the boys to stay in their rooms and recover their energy.
Tristan lay flat on his back on his soft hotel bed. He had his long legs elevated high up on a stack of white pillows to help the blood flow out of his tired muscles.
On the other bed, young Aiden was scrolling quickly through social media applications on his bright cell phone.
"Hey Captain! Look at this! The highlight videos from our game today are already posted on the internet!" Aiden said excitedly.
He walked over and showed Tristan the phone screen.
The video on the screen showed Tristan's massive, two-handed opening dunk against Myanmar. The video already had thousands of likes, and the comments section was flooding with messages.
Aiden read them out loud.
"Wow! Pinoy Pride! 🇵🇭"
"Tristan Herrera is an absolute beast of a player!"
But then, Aiden's smile faded as he read the next few comments.
"Yeah, that dunk was cool, but just wait until they have to play Suphawat. Thailand is number one!"
"The Philippines team looks way too big and slow. Thailand's crazy speed is going to completely kill them on Wednesday."
Tristan reached out and gently pushed the phone away.
"Do not read the comments on the internet, Aiden," Tristan said in a tired voice. "It is poison for your brain. It will ruin your focus."
"Right. You are right," Aiden said quickly, putting his phone face down on the nightstand. "I am sorry, Cap."
Tristan turned off the bedside lamp. The room went completely dark.
He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but he couldn't. He kept replaying Suphawat's crazy, wild movements in his mind over and over again. He thought about the Thai boy's incredible speed. He thought about how smoothly Suphawat moved, and how he smiled and laughed the whole time he played.
Suphawat was the total opposite of everything Coach Baldomero had taught the Philippine team. Baldomero taught them to be cold, structured, ego-driven, and perfectly efficient. Suphawat played with pure joy, freedom, and beautiful art.
It was a battle of two different worlds. Could perfect Order truly defeat wild Chaos?
Tristan slowly clenched his hands into tight fists under his warm blankets.
Order had to win.
Because Tristan had sacrificed so much over the last six months. He had given up his happy personality. He had given up laughing with his friends on the court. He had given up the pure joy of simply playing a fun game with a ball just so he could become the perfect Ace for this team.
If he lost to a boy who was just out there "having fun," it would mean that all of Tristan's painful sacrifices and all of those six months of robotic hell were for absolutely nothing.
"Wednesday," Tristan whispered quietly into the dark, empty hotel room. "On Wednesday, we end his little magic show."