Thursday’s practice began with Coach McKenzie writing three words across the whiteboard.
PACE.
SPACING.
DECISIONS.
Fergus had expected another miserable collection of running drills after Tuesday, but there were no cones waiting beneath the baskets when the team entered the gym.
McKenzie had apparently made his point about effort and discipline, because after the usual warm-up he immediately divided the players into groups and began preparing for Friday’s game against St Cuthbert’s.
“Different team, different problems,” McKenzie explained.
“St Francis are happy making you execute against a set defence for as long as it takes.
Cuthbert’s will run if you let them.
Miss a shot and spend two seconds complaining about it, they’ll already be at the other end.” He pointed towards the three words on the board.
“They’re aggressive defensively as well.
They’ll pressure the ball, they’ll jump passing lanes, and they’ll try to convince you that playing quickly means playing stupidly.
It doesn’t.” Arthur bounced a basketball lightly beside his leg.
“So we’re running?” “We’re thinking quickly.” “While running?” McKenzie looked at him.
“Unfortunately for you, Reid, basketball does occasionally require both.” William laughed.
Arthur muttered something Fergus couldn’t hear, but McKenzie ignored him and sent the starters onto the court.
The first portion of training was devoted almost entirely to offence.
Wallace had several basic half-court actions they had been practising since the team was selected, but the loss to St Francis had exposed how easily those actions disappeared whenever the first option failed.
Too often Arthur would begin a set, Jaime would receive the ball in his preferred position, and somebody would improvise the moment the defence disrupted the intended movement.
McKenzie wanted more patience.
The first action began with Arthur bringing the ball across halfway while Finn moved through the corner and Jaime started on the opposite wing.
Merrick came high to screen for Arthur, William occupied the weak side and the possession developed from there depending on how the defence reacted.
They ran it without defenders first.
Then again.
On the third repetition, William cut too early.
McKenzie’s whistle sounded.
“Campbell, where are you going?” William stopped beneath the basket.
“Baseline.” “I can see where you’re going.
Why are you going there now?” William glanced towards Jaime.
“Thought the lane was open.” “It is open because you’re supposed to keep it open.” McKenzie repositioned him several steps away.
“Douglas needs somewhere to go if Reid reverses the ball.
You cut before he receives it, your defender comes with you, and suddenly there are four bodies in the lane.
Hold your spacing until the action tells you to move.” They reset.
Fergus watched from the sideline and tried to follow every option.
He wasn’t expected to run the offence as Arthur did, but McKenzie had been increasingly insistent that reserves understand the same actions as the starters.
There was no separate collection of simplified plays for Fergus simply because he came from the bench.
When his group rotated in, Fergus took Finn’s position.
That meant much of his early responsibility involved movement rather than handling the basketball.
He started near the wing, cut through after Arthur initiated the action and relocated towards the opposite side while Jaime received the reversal.
The first repetition worked.
On the second, Fergus drifted too close to the corner.
McKenzie stopped them.
“Robertson, you’re shrinking the floor.” Fergus looked down at where he was standing.
“Two steps higher.
If you’re buried down there, your defender can help towards the lane and still recover to you.
Make him choose.” Fergus moved.
“Again.” They restarted.
This time Fergus reached the correct position, and when Jaime attacked towards the middle, Fergus’s defender hesitated between helping and staying attached.
Jaime recognised it and drove all the way to the basket.
McKenzie allowed the possession to finish.
That was how most of practice went.
Wallace would run an action successfully twice before some small mistake caused McKenzie’s whistle to interrupt the third attempt.
The coach cared about details Fergus hadn’t even recognised as important a month earlier.
A cut beginning a second too soon could clog the lane.
A pass delivered towards the wrong shoulder could slow the next action.
Standing a metre away from the intended position could give a defender enough space to guard two people.
Bullet Passing helped Fergus with one part of that process.
His deliveries were becoming cleaner when the reads were simple, particularly when reversing the ball around the perimeter or feeding a teammate in a predictable position.
He still had to decide whether the pass was actually available, but Thursday’s structured repetitions made those decisions easier than the chaos of a game.
During one sequence, Fergus received the basketball on the wing and saw William flash towards the elbow.
His first instinct was to pass immediately, but William’s defender had already stepped into the lane.
Fergus held the ball.
William continued through.
Arthur relocated towards the top, and Fergus sent the pass there instead.
McKenzie didn’t blow his whistle.
Fergus found himself strangely pleased by that.
A month ago, completing a normal perimeter pass wouldn’t have registered as an accomplishment.
After two turnovers against St Francis and an entire weekend spent thinking about what Bullet Passing could and couldn’t do for him, simply making the correct decision felt meaningful.
The pace increased when McKenzie added defenders.
That was also when Fergus began accumulating successful screen avoidances.
His first came against Arthur.
Fergus was defending the reserves while Arthur ran with the starters, and Merrick approached from the left to set a high screen.
Fergus heard the call from behind, recognised Arthur committing towards it and moved over the top before Merrick could catch him squarely.
His shoulder brushed the screener.
Nothing more.
Arthur reached the wing with Fergus still attached closely enough to prevent an immediate jumper.
The possession continued.
A translucent notification briefly appeared near the edge of Fergus’s vision.
‘Pick Dodger Progress: 36/50.’ He dismissed it without taking his attention from the play.
One.
The next successful avoidance took longer.
Jaime was considerably better than Arthur at manipulating the defender before using a screen.
He changed pace, shifted his body as though he intended to reject it and waited until Fergus committed before finally moving towards William.
The first attempt caught Fergus badly.
William became a wall across his path, and Jaime entered the lane before Fergus recovered.
McKenzie stopped play.
“You’re guessing.” Fergus nodded.
“Thought he was going the other way.” “That’s why you got screened.
Don’t decide what Douglas is doing before he does it.
Read his hips and stay close enough to react.” Jaime bounced the ball.
“You can just say I’m too quick for him.” McKenzie looked towards him.
“Would you like to run?” Jaime immediately shook his head.
“Then we’ll stick with my explanation.” They reset.
Jaime tried something similar on the next repetition, but Fergus waited longer.
When Jaime finally committed towards William’s screen, Fergus slipped over the top and stayed close enough to force him towards the sideline.
‘Pick Dodger Progress: 37/50.’ Two.
The numbers accumulated gradually through the rest of the half-court work.
Fergus avoided one screen from Merrick while chasing Finn, then another when Arthur attempted to use Callum Fraser near the top.
39/50.
His fifth successful avoidance came against Finn.
McKenzie had specifically told Fergus not to surrender the space underneath against Wallace’s best outside shooter.
When William arrived to screen, Fergus fought over the top and emerged slightly behind Finn but close enough that Finn couldn’t comfortably rise into his shot.
Finn drove instead.
Fergus recovered before he reached the lane and forced him to pass backwards.
‘Pick Dodger Progress: 40/50.’ Five successful avoidances during the session.
Ten remained.
Practice shifted before Fergus could accumulate more.
McKenzie divided the team for transition scrimmages, and the structure changed completely.
Rather than beginning each possession from a settled half court, one group attacked while another defended, with the direction reversing immediately after a rebound, turnover or made basket.
“This is what Cuthbert’s want,” McKenzie explained.
“They want the game moving before you’re organised.
So get organised while you’re moving.” Fergus enjoyed transition work more than he expected.
His conditioning gave him an advantage, particularly when possessions changed direction repeatedly.
Suicide Sprinter didn’t make him immune to fatigue, but the months of repeated sprint work meant he recovered faster between bursts than he had during the summer.
More importantly, transition defence suited the habits McKenzie had been drilling into him.
Find the ball.
Find a man.
Protect the middle.
Communicate.
On his first defensive possession, Fergus sprinted back and picked up Jaime near the wing before the offence could establish anything.
Jaime tried attacking immediately, but Fergus stayed between him and the basket long enough for William and Merrick to recover behind the play.
Jaime pulled the ball out.
McKenzie shouted from the sideline.
“Good, Robertson!
Stop the first attack!” That praise was rare enough that Fergus noticed it immediately.
Several possessions later, Fergus was the one leading the break.
Arthur secured a rebound and threw ahead towards him, allowing Fergus to catch the basketball near halfway with only one defender between him and the basket.
A month earlier, Fergus might have attacked without thinking.
Instead, he recognised Jaime filling the opposite lane.
The defender shifted towards Fergus.
Fergus passed.
Bullet Passing helped him place the basketball ahead of Jaime rather than directly at his body, allowing Jaime to collect it without slowing and finish at the rim.
“Good ball,” Jaime said as they turned back.
Fergus nodded, already looking for his defensive assignment.
That was becoming the rhythm McKenzie wanted from him.
Defend, run, make the simple decision and continue playing.
The transition scrimmage exposed his limitations as well.
Fergus missed a short jumper after receiving a kick-out from Arthur, then lost control of the basketball when he attempted to dribble through traffic rather than moving it quickly.
McKenzie corrected him immediately.
“That’s not your game yet, Robertson.
Don’t turn one advantage into three defenders.” Fergus grimaced.
“Yeah.” “You had Campbell beside you.” “I saw him late.” “Then see him earlier.” They continued.
Fergus didn’t resent the correction.
The St Francis game had made it difficult to pretend his decision-making was further developed than it actually was, and the System wasn’t going to remove that weakness simply because he had unlocked Bullet Passing.
What encouraged him was everything else.
Whenever McKenzie wanted someone pressured on the perimeter, Fergus increasingly received the assignment.
During one stretch he guarded Arthur, then Jaime, then Finn across three consecutive possessions.
They all caused different problems.
Arthur changed direction quickly and manipulated screens well; Jaime was the hardest to contain individually, while Finn forced Fergus to remain attached because surrendering even a little space could become a jumper.
Fergus didn’t stop them every time.
Nobody did.
But compared with the player who had entered tryouts hoping simply to survive defensively, the difference was becoming obvious.
Late in practice, Finn attempted to attack Fergus without a screen and couldn’t create separation.
He retreated, passed towards Arthur and moved away from the ball.
Arthur caught it and laughed.
“Can’t get past Flimsy?” Jaime, standing near the opposite wing, immediately responded.
“That’s not Flimsy.” The words were casual enough that Fergus almost missed them.
Arthur didn’t.
Neither did William.
Jaime appeared to realise what he had said and frowned.
“Just play.” Fergus smiled.
He didn’t mention it.
The nickname had bothered him for months because it described exactly how Jaime had viewed him: skinny, weak and easy to push around.
Fergus was still skinny and still physically weaker than most of Wallace’s larger players, but apparently even Jaime had begun to recognise that those things no longer made him easy to play against.
McKenzie ended the scrimmage after another ten minutes and gathered everyone near halfway.
“Tomorrow’s Friday.
Cuthbert’s will run harder than Dalry did, and they’ll punish us if we spend the first quarter figuring that out.
Get back on defence, don’t throw lazy passes and trust the offence long enough for it to work.” His eyes moved towards several players before settling briefly on Fergus.
“Bench included.
If you’re called, you’re not coming in to survive until the starters return.
You’re coming in to do a job.” Fergus nodded along with the others.
That sentence followed him into the changing room.
A larger chunk of playing time had been sitting somewhere in the back of his mind since the Dalry game.
McKenzie had trusted him late in a tied contest, and even during the heavy defeat to St Francis, Fergus had remained useful enough defensively to receive multiple stints.
But useful wasn’t enough for Fergus.
He wanted to become reliable.
If he could defend the other team’s best perimeter players consistently while providing something offensively, there was no reason his role had to remain a handful of minutes whenever Finn struggled.
Fergus didn’t need to become a major scorer.
Eight points against Dalry had already shown what could happen if he defended well, ran the floor and took the opportunities available to him.
Four points against St Francis had shown the other side.
Two turnovers and four missed shots could erase much of the value he created elsewhere.
The answer wasn’t suddenly trying to score fifteen points against St Cuthbert’s.
Fergus knew McKenzie would probably bench him faster for forcing offence than for barely shooting at all.
He needed to become dependable at both ends.
Defend without fouling.
Navigate screens.
Make the simple pass.
Cut when the space appeared.
Finish opportunities around the basket.
Take the close jumper if defenders gave it to him.
Nothing spectacular.
Just fewer reasons for McKenzie to take him off the floor.
After changing, Fergus checked the System properly.
‘Mission: Unlock Pick Dodger – Basic Understanding.’ ‘Progress: 45/50 Screens avoided in game-like situations.’ ‘Perimeter Pest – Basic Understanding: Complete.’ ‘Time Remaining: 12 days.’ Fergus stopped.
He read the number again.
Forty-five.
The five successful screen avoidances from the structured work had counted, but so had several from the transition scrimmage.
He had been too focused on playing to notice every notification.
Only five remained.
Fergus briefly considered staying behind and asking someone to run more screening actions with him, but McKenzie’s definition of game-like situations made that uncertain, and more importantly, practice was finished.
Trying to manufacture five repetitions solely to satisfy the System felt different from actually learning the skill.
Friday offered something better.
St Cuthbert’s.
A real opponent.
A real game.
Fergus dismissed the screen and picked up his bag.
He needed five more successful screen avoidances to unlock Pick Dodger.
If he completed them against St Cuthbert’s, the mission would be finished as well, giving him a Basic Understanding skill of his choice.
That was exciting.
Yet as Fergus followed Arthur and William out of the changing room, the reward wasn’t what occupied most of his thoughts.
McKenzie was beginning to trust him against Wallace’s better perimeter players.
Finn couldn’t comfortably shake him anymore.
Arthur had to work to create space, and even Jaime couldn’t simply assume he would beat Fergus whenever he wanted.
Fergus wasn’t ready to call himself Wallace Memorial’s best perimeter defender.
He doubted McKenzie would tolerate him saying it either.
But slowly, possession by possession, it was becoming an argument someone could make.
Friday would give him another chance to prove it.