A slow smile crept across her face, a real smile, like the first genuinely happy one she'd managed since this whole game disaster started. "That, Idris," she said, voice getting its usual boss-dy firmness back, but with a hint of victory sneaking in, "was just James… being James." She knew they had to ride this wave, capitalize on the shock factor, and crush Motijheel’s crumbling confidence.
"KIYOSHI!" she yelled, voice cutting through the stunned silence like a knife. "Run the py! Get all ball to James! Let's see what he will pull out of his hat!" Time to turn up the heat.
Kiyoshi, who had also been momentarily frozen in a state of awe-induced paralysis, snapped back to reality. Captain mode: activated.
His mind racing a mile a minute, already plotting a game pn, figuring out how to weaponize this new, insane pyer. He gnced at James, a silent "let's do this" passing between them. Showtime. Time to get to work and turn this game around.
The momentum had officially shifted.
James? Totally unfazed. Didn't even blink at the stunned silence, the bewildered stares, the sudden atmosphere shift.
He just passed it to Kiyoshi and calmly strolled towards the three-point line. Positioned himself, feet set, hands ready, waiting for Kiyoshi to kick off the py. Didn't even acknowledge the gaping Motijheel defenders, didn't react to their hushed, "Did-that-really-just-happen?" whispers. Dude was zoned in, calm as a cucumber, totally in control. He knew what he could do.
And now, oh yeah, now they were starting to get a clue too. Starting to realize they might have seriously underestimated the 'clumsy dribbler' with the 'Cross-Under Dribble of Doom.' The game? Just took a hard left turn, heading straight for "unexpected" and potentially "total Motijheel meltdown." For them, the jokes were over. The "wait, what?!" confusion? Just getting started.
Even as the echoes of the utterly bonkers 'King's Palm' catch still bounced around in the stunned silence – like, seriously, did that just happen?! – Number 9, bless his heart, James’s defender, was in full-on denial mode. Okay, okay, weird catch, he mumbled to himself, like repeating it would magically make it less insane.
Maybe… maybe the gym lights were messing with my eyes? Or it was a freaky camera angle? Or… or did I accidentally chug too much pre-game energy drink and start tripping? He was desperately searching for a logical expnation, any scrap of normalcy to cling to, anything to shove that unbelievable catch back into the realm of things that make at least a tiny bit of sense.
His brain was buffering, hard. He needed a reason, pronto, before he started questioning reality itself.
"Yeah, totally weird catch," he blurted out loud, forcing this super shaky ugh that sounded more like a nervous cough. He was trying so hard to act like he was totally chill and unbothered, even though inside he was low-key panicking.
"But, like, anyone can get lucky, right? Once in a blue moon, you know? It's just… a total fluke. Let's see if this dude can actually, you know, basketball." He waved his hand dismissively, trying to recim some kind of control over the situation that was clearly spiraling into the absurd.
