Chương 18: Schedule
The next day.
Head coach Mike Roughan entered his own office with an uncomfortable posture and an unreserved sigh.
Roughan did not even acknowledge the presence of his two assistant coaches that were already chatting inside before he even entered, and instead rushed straight to the toilet.
A few more minutes passed when the pot bellied head coach exited the comfort room with a refreshed, bright smile.
"I finally got rid of that dumb attire." Coach Roughan never wanted anything to do with those suits and ties. He's an ordinary man that would rather wear shirts, or polos than those fancy formal suits and the like. "At least we finally have our Big Ten schedule finalized."
The trio heard a knock from outside and two more men entered the room with a yawn. They were the team's other coaches— both of them fitness coaches.
"Sir, here's some hot black roasted coffee without sugar, as you always liked it." One of the newcomers walked up and went straight to the head coach.
Today, the Big Ten released their conference's regular season schedule.
Which is different from the first half of the season, which are usually called non-conference games. These games could be freely scheduled by the teams themselves, irrespective of their conferences. Many people consider it as friendly exhibition games.
Imagine, a university from Hawaii could schedule a game against a team from a university on the east coast in the non-conference side of the schedule.
The first half of the schedule is pretty much tune up games. Although, they still count towards the criteria selected by the so-called Selection Committee come the end of the year.
From early November to the end of the calendar year, teams are free to schedule as much as 15 games, all of which would be counted on the non-conference part of the schedule.
This part of the schedule had been finalized and known by the team for a week now.
What was released today was the Big Ten's—which is Illinois' home conference— schedule, starting the new year up until the end of February.
January 5, 2042 - at Iowa Hawkeyes.
Everyone in the coaching staff knew how vital it was to start conference play with a bang, not just for the team, but also for the university. But this year, they will open conference play against a heated rival, at their home stadium.
It was enough to make their blood boil.
January 8, 2042 - vs Michigan State Spartans.
"Oh come on!" Coach Simmons was infuriated. "Why would they give us one of the best teams in the country at the start of conference play!"
"Relax, it's at home. We can beat anyone at home." Coach Atkins calmed his fellow assistant down. "We have a couple of months to improve."
"You should drink your Earl Grey to calm yourself down, Janet." One of the fitness coaches, a middle aged man surnamed Caldwell, chided assistant coach Simmons. "If the third conference game was as stupid as a game against M-State, then we'll riot!"
Head coach Michael Roughan clicked the next fixture… and it's another match against a favorite to win it all.
January 12 - at Wisconsin Badgers.
"Fuck!" Caldwell almost choked on his coffee!
It was a game against another conference title contender, or rather, a perennial national contender.
The Big Ten committee didn't give them a good start to the year at all.
"You should calm down too, sir Chris." Atkins was smiling, since their head coach had remained expressionless throughout.
Atkins knows that he was the kind of coach that could remain unfazed even under the microscope of many eyes.
A simple harsh three-game start was never enough for him to lose his cool.
Whatever seventeen games followed this stretch, Atkins doubted it would cause any shock or alarm to paint Roughan's rough face.
***
Same time, inside the practice facility.
The beautiful sound of a ball hitting nylon every couple seconds was rhythmic enough to please the ears and excite the mind.
It was almost surprising though, that the continuous beat was maintained by a single person for quite a long time, with only a few hiccups— for example when he recollects every single ball.
Tremaine had not left the building since last night.
There he was, shooting jumpers from just behind the line, like a lonely baller shooting on a hoop in a deserted island.
His hands were just following the motion, his arms were numb from the machine precision, his legs were leaden, his mind was preoccupied, but his fervor was burning.
I shouldn't have airballed four of the last ten.
A lot of the guys stuck with him after the small, friendly challenge had ended in defeat, bantering with him for bottling it so badly. But all of them had returned to their respective dormitories.
He had been here alone since midnight.
Right now, sweat poured out of Tre's body like he's soaking himself out into the heat.
And yet… he still does not want to stop shooting.
What am I doing slacking off this past month or so?
Throughout his entire journeyman career, he doesn't even know how many nights he spent like this.
Sleepless, harsh, laser focused, and iron-willed.
Do I possibly think that just with my past life's experiences alone, I could be an NBA player?
In retrospect, I don't even have the experience of being one!
Tremaine was smiling like a maniac on the loose.
With a resolute mind, Tremaine promised himself that he would balance everything out. He would practice more, he would give himself more chances to improve, and he would take care of all the responsibilities that come with being a student athlete.
"Fuck me, what have I been doing all this time?" Tremaine enjoyed his first few months of reincarnation to his maximum.
In his first life, he was unable to make meaningful connections with a lot of the members of the team outside the basketball court. He put all his work inside the four corners of the hardwood floor, neglecting everything else.
His studies, his friends, his relationships, his own self…
"Why do you look like that?" At some point in time, he missed someone entering the facility.
"Huh? Who's there?" He turned around and found his captain with a worried look on his face.
"Go home right this instant." Legend walked towards the hoop and collected the basketballs underneath it. "Someone told me you'd been here since last night."
"Not yet, Cap. I still gotta shoot."
"You think that's going to help you if you're in that state?" Legend's face sank into a stern demeanor. He gazed at his junior with a questioning stare. "The answer is no."
His captain waved him off and shot three pointers like it was nothing. He kept on talking while he was releasing jumper after jumper too.
"You know, I was always able to shoot threes." Legend was not shy to share about it. "I'd even go so far as to say that I'm better than most of the team in practice."
Unconsciously, Tremaine had counted that Legend had hit fifteen shots in a row with that sweet righty release.
"I never stopped honing my skill alone…"
"So why hadn't it translated in the games that matter?" Legend seemingly asked himself.
Once every single ball had been thrown, he stopped to look at the youngster near him.
"It's all because of—"
The door to the practice facility opened and several players rushed in with purpose.
"1v1 me, Khalil, you shit!" An angry Dwayne said.
"1v1 me, Jaylen, you lil shit!" An angry Khalil said.
"1v1 me, Dwayne, you weak shit!" An angry Jaylen said.
All of them said those words at the exact same time.
Tremaine and Legend were confused.
SUY NGHĨ CỦA NGƯỜI SÁNG TẠO 
Konkey_Dong
Konkey_Dong I absolutely was unable to watch Game 4 yesterday... damn it... I remembered it just earlier when I saw an insane amount of posts...
I just watched the highlights and damn... Middleton is in the Michael Jordan phase of the cycle... hope he doesn't go back to like Ben Simmons in Game 5.
Booker's effort not enough... especially if there's no help + 7 fouls.
Thanks y'all!!!
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