The Bad-Boy Closer

"That’s rule number one if you want to be a 'Bad-Boy.'"

(Flashback: A School Playground, somewhere in Hong Kong, evening. The sun is setting, casting an orange glow over the court. YOU, a 17-year-old senior, and KIN, 13, sit on the bleachers after playing 1-on-1. You lean back, arms stretched out lazily.)

Kin: Mr. Sing-Sing, do you think I’ll ever be good enough to make the team?

You: Make the team? With those noodles for arms? You’d be lucky if they let you fetch water bottles.

Kin: Hey! I’m serious!

You: Alright, alright. Want the truth? Forget making the team. Focus on becoming the guy they can’t cut.

Kin: (wide-eyed) Like Kung and Wai?

You: Kung and Wai? Yeah, they’re untouchable. But honestly? They’re not in your league. They’re good, sure. But me? I’m the secret weapon.

Kin: Really? You’re better than Kung?

You: Oh, way better. Give me the ball in the final seconds, and I’ll pull off a miracle. Even Kung knows it. Ask him—he’ll tell you, “Sing’s the guy.”

Kin: Wow…

You: Look, Kung and Wai... they’re the textbook “Good Boys.” Wai can score, but he dribbles like he’s chasing chickens. Kung’s got the well-rounded thing going, but he’s too busy playing the perfect captain. Me?—

(You tap the side of your head, emphasizing the point.)

You: I’m Smart, Fast, Cool, and Handsome. In the clutch, you need someone who sees the whole court like it’s second nature, who protects the ball, and knows exactly when to strike. That’s me.

Kin: Wow, I wanna be like you. I’m short too, and if I had your skills, I’d be unstoppable.

You: Hey, don’t put me in your category. You’re short, I’m… average height.

Kin: I’m sorry.

You: Never apologize. That’s rule number one if you want to be a Bad-Boy. Stick with me, and in a year, you’ll be the school’s Tony Parker.

Kin: But isn’t Tony Parker more of a Good-Boy?

You: Whatever. You get the point.

(Kin stares at you, half-annoyed, half-admiring. You flick a pebble off the bleachers.)

You: Look, basketball’s just a game. Play it too seriously, and you'll miss the magic.

🏀🏀🏀🏀🏀🏀

(Scene: Inter-Secondary School Basketball Competition, the Final. Mid-December, 2019. The scoreboard reads: Blue Island International School 78 – T.K.S.S. 77, with 13 seconds left in the Fourth Quarter and your team trailing by one.)

(Your team calls a final timeout. You sit at the edge, adjusting your jersey and half-listening.)

Coach: Kung, you’re taking the last shot. Everyone else, clear the way for him. Frankie, Wing, crash the boards.

You: (jokingly) Coach, come on. I’m wide open. Pass me the ball, and I’ll end this right now.

(The team laughs, used to your joke. KUNG smirks and shakes his head.)

Kung: Maybe we should bench this guy before it’s too late.

Coach: Sing, just set the screen. We need you for that.

You: Alright, alright.

(The players break the huddle. Kin watches from the stands, yelling and waving a banner.)

Kin: Captain! Sing-Sing! Fight!

🏀🏀🏀🏀🏀🏀

(The whistle blows. Kung dribbles up the court, scanning the defense.)

Kung: (in his mind) Ten… nine… eight…

(You move into position, setting a perfectly timed screen. Kung drives, but the defense collapses on him. With no shot, he suddenly yells—)

Kung: Sing!

(Kung threads the ball to you, just behind the arc. You catch it, smirking as the defender charges at you.)

You: Poor thing.

(You dribble, then fake a shot, sending the defender flying past you. You zip a bullet pass back to Kung, who’s now open near the key.)

You: Showtime.

(Kung catches the ball, leaps, and releases a layup just before the defender can contest. He falls to the floor, eyes locked on the rim as the ball teeters along the edge… and drops in.)

(T.K.S.S. takes the lead, 78–79. The crowd erupts. Your bench explodes in celebration. But Kung, still on the floor, yells—)

Kung: Fall back! They’re coming!

(Blue Island’s center throws a baseball pass down the court. Their fast-breaker catches it near the key and drives for a layup. The crowd gasps.)

(Suddenly, out of nowhere, you dash in, snatching the ball cleanly.)

You: See ya, big fellow.

(You dribble away, racing toward the final seconds. The buzzer sounds.)

(T.K.S.S. wins the Inter-Secondary School Championship. The team and the students storm the court. Kin rushes to you.)

Kin: Mr. Sing-Sing! You did it! You’re amazing!

You: Oh, you doubted me?

(Kung walks over to you, his smile wide, still catching his breath.)

Kung: That pass, Sing. I almost missed it.

You: Pfft, please. You think I’d pass to someone who can’t catch when I could just shoot it myself?

(The two of you hug each other briefly, sharing a victorious moment. You glance over at Kin, his eyes filled with tears.)

You: Hey, shorty, why’re you crying? It’s just a game.

Kin: I’m just so happy. I wish I could be out there playing with you guys.

(You pause, surprised by his sincerity. Then, trying to keep your cool—)

You: Yeah, yeah. Didn’t I tell you? Always stick with the Best.

(The team waves to the crowd as the stadium erupts in cheers. You stay at the edge of it all, keeping your low-key vibe, but secretly soaking in every moment of glory.)

(Posted on 17.1.2025)

#HighSchoolBasketballChampionshipDrama