Episode 7: The Final Tip-Off and...

○ Dramatic Match Venue (Spring of 4th Grade, Fresh Tournament)

An intense friction sound, like water evaporating on asphalt, erupted from the floor.
Squeak! Squeak! The 4th grader from the opposing team who had moved to defend lost his center of gravity to the sudden change of pace Kyoya unleashed, and he tumbled ungracefully onto the wooden court as if he had been blown away by an invisible, massive force.
The venue, which had been on the verge of erupting in cheers, froze in an instant.
At the center of that silence stood Kyoya, who had just become a 4th grader.
He broke through the split-second void left by the collapsing defense with the instincts of a hungry predator.
He charged fiercely toward the basket, blocking and lightly dodged the shadow of a classmate who had jumped up in the air.
The sphere, controlled perfectly down to the last millimeter where his fingertips touched the ball, backboard gently tapped the white square.
The net swayed with a dry sound as if it were being sucked in.
Immediately after, an electronic buzzer that threatened to burst eardrums shook the gymnasium ceiling violently. Beeeeep.

Announcer: "T-the match is over!! The final score... no, even more surprising is the total points he scored all by himself in all three matches today, a total of 66 points!!"A roar like an earthquake began to spread rapidly from the spectator seats.


"
Hey, what is that kid...""A one-on-one against a classmate? This was never a fair match to begin with."

In a corner of the gallery, hiding in the shadows of the backlight, I crossed my arms and quietly raised the corner of my lip.

Most adults would dismiss this as a "mutant genius."
But they are wrong.
Absolutely wrong. This overwhelming initial speed, these ever-changing trick plays that mock adult common sense—it is all just the result of me pursuing what is fun, starting from 'that Christmas night' when he was in 3rd grade, before Kyoya reached the spring of his 4th grade year.

○ Home, Living Room (3 years ago, Christmas night)

Beside the Christmas tree, which flickered irregularly, was a giant box stacked like a fortress.
Kyoya, who was in the third grade at the time, was tearing through the colorful wrapping paper with great gusto, his eyes sparkling more brightly than ever.

Kyoya: "Wow! Dad, all of these have the real NBA mark on them!!"

What kept popping out from the darkness of the box were top-tier items that an ordinary basketball kid could never get their hands on, no matter how hard they tried.
It was an official indoor size 5 ball, NBA-certified, which I had tracked down by crawling through the depths of the internet.
Furthermore, there was another super-rare official indoor size 5 ball that only a select few children possessed.
On top of that, there were two outdoor size 5 balls that could be used until they were worn to shreds.
That wasn't all.
A bandana with the NBA logo solemnly engraved on it, jet-black arm sleeves to tighten the arm muscles, a large-capacity sports bag, and an oversized bath towel that felt like a warm embrace.
It was an overwhelming present filled entirely with the NBA lineage.

Kyoya: "Limited edition basketball shoes of an NBA star player...!! Wow, wow, Dad! Are these really mine!?"

Naturally, Kyoya cheered with his eyes sparkling as brightly as they possibly could.

Father: "Yeah, I've filled your room and all your belongings with the NBA. Starting tomorrow, we're going to a gym that only you and I can use. Let's play to our heart's content."

Kyoya: "Yeah!!"

From there, I designed the perfect state for us to attempt 'fun basketball' together, by renting gyms that were only for Kyoya and our family, or facilities where we were permitted to play with a ball.
Even for the most important thing, 'school homework,' I didn't just force him to study.
As his father, I printed out ' math board games ' and ' language board games ' from the sea of the internet so he could study while playing, and we would solve the problems while playing the board games with the family.

Father: "Alright Kyoya, roll the dice! You got a 4. Then, if you solve the math problem on this square, you can move forward!"

The whole family gathered in the living room, laughing out loud as we moved our pieces on the board.
If you solve problems while having fun together as a family like that, the homework that should have been a chore disappears before you know it, leaving only smiles.
I am a parent who has been a child myself. That is precisely why the only time I denied my child's desire by saying 'no' from the start was that very first moment when Kyoya said, 'I want to play basketball.'
From that point on, I was the first to buy him a smartphone, even before anyone else.
Ordinary parents would say, 'Nothing good comes from letting a child have a smartphone,' and wouldn't let them have one in the first place.
That is why children build up a sense of starvation and end up doing it in secret.
Given the nature of children, it is self-evident that by giving them a smartphone first, classmates and upperclassmen will flock to them out of curiosity.

" Wow! Amazing! Kyoya, you already have a smartphone!?"

They start flattering him like that. Naturally, being a child, he gets carried away.
However, since he has no choice but to find new things every single day and show them off at school, he eventually runs out of fuel and gets tired.
Yes, the classmates and upperclassmen around him don't think Kyoya himself is amazing.
They just like the environment where they can use a smartphone freely, and they just conveniently make demands like, 'Look this up,' 'Look that up,' or 'Find something more interesting.'

You already understand, don't you? That's right.

Even as a child, Kyoya realizes on his own that he is being used because he has a smartphone, not because of himselfnd that.
After a while, the smartphone he was so obsessed with began to be left alone on the living room table. I waited for that moment and asked in a casual tone.

Father: "What's wrong, Kyoya? Aren't you using your phone?"

My son shook his head as if it were a bother.

Kyoya: "Everyone around me is noisy, saying 'look this up, look that up,' and 'find this, find that' so I thought, 'look it up yourself,' and I got bored of it."

If you say 'no' from the beginning, the child's desire to 'somehow touch it' becomes even stronger, and they will secretly memorize the password while you are sleeping or without you realizing it, and start touching it without you knowing.
The 'Roblox in-game purchase problem' that is a major social phenomenon in the world right now is also entirely caused by this bug of desire created by excessive parental prohibition.
Games are the same. In my house, games are unlimited. If he does his homework, basically games are okay for up to two hours, but the only thing I said was, 'Rest your eyes for five minutes once every 30 minutes.'
That is why his eyesight has not dropped at all even now. I bought them for him from the start because I know the habit that games become boring if you play them too much. That said, there is absolutely no need for others to imitate this method.
As a result, it was fine as long as everything connected to 'basketball'. If I use technical terms, this is just a case of it becoming that way if you call it 'coordination training.'

〇 Youth Sports Club Gym (Spring of 4th Grade, Fresh Tournament)

Kyoya was simply satisfied with the best environment his father had prepared for him.
And, in his daily practice, he would talk somewhere about how he was showing off the techniques he was taught by his parent to the 6th graders at the time, as he saw himself getting better and better at basketball through our two-person, three-legged special training.

Kyoya: "This is a technique I was taught by my dad at home!"

In that state, the day arrived for him to participate in his final 'Fresh Tournament' as a 4th grader.
Usually, it was the custom of the youth sports club for all the 6th graders to come out to cheer for the matches of their juniors. However, before the tournament, I went to the 6th graders and asked them this.

Father: "Everyone, you don't need to come to cheer for tomorrow's Fresh Tournament. For the players, this is their last year. If you have time to waste on cheering, I want you to do your own practice. Keep touching the ball for even one minute longer."

6th Grader: "Eh... Coach, are you sure? Thank you!"

With gratitude in their hearts for me thinking of them first, the 6th graders polished their skills in the gym.
And then, the Fresh Tournament arrived. The result goes without saying.
Standing on the court, Kyoya, all by himself, racked up an otherworldly score of 66 points in 3 games as a result.
By now, it had become impossible for his classmates' defense to keep up with his overwhelming speed in a one-on-one situation.
That was not all.
Even in a 'normal tournament' where older students are mixed in, when Kyoya entered the court in the second quarter, the atmosphere changed completely.
He would cut through the opponent's defensive line in an instant with a sharp drive and score the shot himself.
Or, he would pull off one freestyle trick play after another, far exceeding the imagination of adults.
The moment they witnessed that spectacular sight, the eyes of the 6th-grade children watching from the stands changed from astonishment to a certain 'conviction'.

6th-grade member: "...Hey, that's too crazy, Kyoya's play. We definitely aren't taught that in the youth club practice." Another 6th grader: "No doubt. Kyoya's dad... he must be teaching him all sorts of amazing things behind the scenes."

And the 6th-grade mothers watching from the gallery. Even to their eyes, as complete amateurs when it came to basketball, it was clear that Kyoya was improving at a terrifying speed.

"That father, what on earth is he teaching him behind the scenes...?"

〇 A Corner of the Gym (A few months later, before the autumn tournament)

Before long, word of our secret independent practice sessions spread quietly among the sixth graders and their parents.
"If my child gets special training from that dad, maybe they'll change too." And so, the kids from the West side started coming on Tuesdays and Fridays. The kids from the East side came on Mondays, and later, every other Friday as well.
The sixth graders who gathered also improved rapidly thanks to my training menu.
However, I still maintained my position as an "assistant coach", taking a step back during official practices and only being able to watch over them quietly. Not disrupting the organization's discipline and staying in the shadows—that was my stance.
But, after a practice session one day, with the autumn tournament fast approaching.
One sixth-grader's mother walked toward me with tense steps, looking around as if concerned about her surroundings.

Sawajiri's mother (pseudonym): "Um... excuse me. I have a little something I'd like to consult you about. Do you have a moment?"

With the head coach nearby, why ask me, the assistant coach? I thought that for a split second.
However, seeing her son, Sawajiri-kun, hunched over heavily in the corner of the court, I understood everything.
That small, hunched back—I realized that he, too, wanted me to notice him, not the head coach, so I answered quietly.

Me: "Yes, what is it?"

Sawajiri's mother (pseudonym): "...Actually, lately, he's fallen into a complete slump with his free throws... When we ask him at home, 'What's wrong?', he just says, 'Shut up!' and shuts himself off. It seems like he's hitting his rebellious phase, and I don't know how to deal with him..."

Sawajiri's mother (pseudonym) looked at me with eyes that seemed ready to break down at any moment.

Me: "I see."

In truth, I had noticed his change long ago.
But I was, after all, an "assistant coach".
The feeling that I couldn't overstep my bounds was strong, and until now, I could only watch.
But having received these earnest words from Sawajiri's mother (pseudonym), I nodded firmly.

Me: "I understand. Ma'am, I will ask him directly, so please wait a moment."

I turned on my heel and walked toward Sawajiri-kun, who was sitting alone under the basket, hugging a ball. I stood right next to him and spoke in a casual tone, yet one meant to reach the depths of his heart.

Me: "Hey, Sawajiri-kun. You haven't been making your free throws lately, right? I can tell just by looking."

Sawajiri-kun flinched, his shoulders shaking, and looked up at me with a face mixed with astonishment.

Sawajiri: "Eh...? Coach, you were watching?"

Me: "Yeah, I've been watching the whole time. But it's okay. You just need to learn two forms."

Sawajiri: "Two forms...?"

Me: "That's right. The first time, use your usual shot. If that doesn't go in, then for the second time, you can just use the other shot I'm about to teach you. It doesn't matter if it doesn't go in, so just shoot with a light feeling of 'I wonder if this will work'."

Sawajiri: "...Yeah."

His eyes, which had been filled with rejection, regained a faint light. I patted him on the shoulder.

Me: "Alright, come over here for a second."

I led him away from the noise of the other team members practicing and guided him to a quiet corner of the gym.

Me: "Sawajiri-kun, what I'm going to teach you now is something you'll definitely use when you get to junior high, a so-called setup shot, a kind of secret technique. For now, it's fine to just have a light feeling until you get the hang of it. Don't think about 'making it' or any of that extra stuff; just shoot with the feeling of 'I wonder if this will work'."

Sawajiri: "... Setup shot. But, they don't really teach elementary schoolers setup shots... do they?"

Me: "That's true. Why do you think that is?"

Sawajiri: "Why?"

Me: "This period is what we call the 'Golden Age', which only happens once in a person's life. Only coaches who realize how important this time is in life teach this shot."

Sawajiri: "Wow...! Is that so...!"

At the sound of those words he was hearing for the first time, a pure sense of excitement began to mix into Sawajiri-kun's face.

Me: "Right now, Sawajiri-kun, you are right in the middle of a growth spurt. It's a slightly difficult time where things you could do normally suddenly become impossible, and conversely, things you couldn't do at all suddenly become possible. So it's okay. Because it's a new shot you haven't learned yet, it might just go right in."

Sawajiri: "Yeah!"

The hesitation vanished from his words. As if the shackles that had been tightening his heart had been blown away, Sawajiri-kun was beaming with a full smile.
His mother, who had been watching the scene intently from a distance, wiped her eyes and teared up at her son's smile for the first time in days.
I had Sawajiri-kun hold the ball and checked the axis of his form.

Me: "Yeah, that stance, your axis is solid. Just as I thought. You have talent."

Sawajiri: "Really!?"

Me: "Yeah. From here, carry the ball straight up with one hand in a fluid motion... and finally, follow through with your fingertips. Hey, do you know a technique often used in the NBA called a ' finger roll'?"

Sawajiri-kun's eyes widened suddenly.

Sawajiri: "Ah! I've heard of that! Finger roll...! Yay! I'm not in a slump!"

I grinned and patted his head.

Me: "Of course not! There's no such thing as a slump. Because you're in a growth spurt, the speed at which you're growing a centimeter is just too fast, and your brain and body haven't caught up yet. You don't have to worry about anything, you're fine."

Sawajiri: "Yay!! My technique is NBA-class!"

Me: "That's right, in terms of skill, you might be at the entrance to the NBA."

Sawajiri: "I'm definitely going to master this!!"

Seeing Sawajiri-kun confidently reset his stance with the ball, I said, "Alright, do your best," and left the spot.
As I headed toward the gym exit, his mother came jogging up to me. Bowing deeply and repeatedly, she said in a trembling voice.

Sawajiri's mother: "Coach... he hasn't looked that happy in the last 12 or 13 days...! Really, thank you so, so much...!"

I scratched my head, looking embarrassed, and smiled quietly.

Me: "Ah, no, no, I didn't do anything special. It's just that this is a path every child goes through. Please just remember that he's entered a slightly difficult period. If he ever hits a wall again or seems like he's going down a different path, please try to gently encourage him by remembering my words from today."

Mother: "Yes...! I understand!"

The shadow of anxiety had completely vanished from the mother's face as well.

〇 Tournament Venue (Autumn)

And so, the turbulent autumn tournament begins.
Luckily, this time, the girls' games where Kei-chan and the others were fighting were being held in parallel in the same gym as the boys' games.
Squeak!! Beep!! From multiple courts, intense whistles and the sound of countless sneakers cutting through the air echoed simultaneously.
I took my position in the front row of the second-floor gallery, grabbed the railing, and leaned forward. The voice I had suppressed to support the head coach on the bench was completely unleashed here. My own child, the ten warriors who gathered believing in me, and Sawajiri-kun who broke through his slump—they are all my children.
I inhaled air until my lungs were full from the bottom of my stomach, and began to send cheers toward the court as if roaring, with a voice so loud it made the gym's sturdy steel frame tremble.

Me: "Go!! Run, run!! Go for it!!"

Amidst the dad's soul-shaking, loud cheers echoing through the gym—their fateful autumn showdown had now begun dramatically.

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