The first practice of Javier's junior season started at 6 AM, and Leo was already there, setting up the nets, his knee aching, his heart pounding.
The gym was quiet. The lights buzzed. The banners hung in the rafters—eight state championships, a legacy that stretched back decades. Leo stood at center court, looking at them, thinking about all the players who'd helped build this program. Marcus Cole. Coach Harris. Ethan Shaw. Kevin. Tyler. Jake. Maya. Derek. Mateo. And now Javier.
The doors opened. Javier walked in, his bag over his shoulder, his eyes tired but focused. He'd been up late, studying film, working on his footwork, preparing for the season. Leo had told him to rest. Javier had told him he'd rest when he was dead.
"You're early," Leo said.
"So are you."
"I'm the coach. I'm
