The two weeks leading up to the first game blurred together. Not in a boring way, but in a rhythmic way. The same flow, day after day. School. Practice. Home. Repeat.
Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday was gym work. Coach Davenport drilled them through half-court offense, defensive rotations, fast break reps, and late-game scenarios. They ran the Flex until it felt like second nature. Cut. Screen. Swing. Reverse. Cut again.
Tuesdays and Thursdays were for the weight room and film. The weight room was shared with the football team, so they lifted early before anyone else showed up. Squats, lunges, core work, push-ups until their arms gave out. Coach Rivers ran those days like a military trainer, no wasted reps, no talking.
The film was in the health classroom on the third floor. Coach rolled out a cart with his laptop connected to the projector and made them watch last year's losses. Brickland's win over them was one of the first.
"Look at this weak closeout," Coach said, pausing the film. "That's how we gave up 22 to a dude that can't go left."
Every few plays, he'd rewind and let the guys roast each other. But when it came to Trey, he was all business.
"You're gonna be on that court this year. They're not gonna care you're a freshman. You ready for this?"
"You already know, coach," Trey said, nodding
Midway through that first week, they started getting gear.
It started with the compression shirts for workouts and practice they were black, with "HAWKS HOOPS" in deep red across the chest. Clean. Coach handed them out like candy after practice.
Then came the warm-up suits. Thick, perfect fit, dark gray with "West Newark Basketball" stitched in white across the chest. The pants matched, red piping down the sides. Nobody had to say it, but everyone thought the same thing: these were the best suits the school had put out in years.
Their home jerseys were charcoal gray with white numbers outlined in red. For away games, it flipped black jerseys with gray trim and red lettering. But the coldest set sat at the bottom of the gear bin: a camo throwback uniform they'd only wear for tournaments or rivalry games. Black-and-gray camo with red block numbers. No names on the back, just "West" across the chest.
The Jerseys stayed in the locker room, folded neatly on shelves Coach had just installed with leftover booster funds. None of the uniforms left the gym unless it was game day.
Media Day came on a Saturday. A local photographer set up on the baseline with ring lights and a step-and-repeat banner. Each player posed in full uniform, arms crossed, some holding basketballs, others trying to look cool or tough.
Trey kept it simple. Jersey on, hoodie halfway zipped, holding the ball in front of his chest. He didn't smile, just stared into the camera.
Later that night, he posted two of the photos on Instagram. His page wasn't big, barely 400 followers, most of them kids from Newark or family friends. Still, the likes came quickly.
"Year 1. Let's get it."
That's all the caption said.
The comments were mostly fire emojis and "Go crazy bro" type messages. A couple of old teammates from middle school commented.
The countdown was real now. The first Game was tomorrow. Two and a half weeks of grind behind them, and for Trey, it was the first real test. The first time to prove that he wasn't just a name on a roster.
The week of the game hit differently.
Everyone on the team felt it. The way Coach moved, the tone in his voice it was sharp now. No more jokes at water breaks. No more light film days. Everything had a purpose.
Monday's practice started with full-court pressure drills. Coach had them running trap defense for 30 straight minutes.
"If y'all think Brickland's gonna just hand you the ball, stay home," Coach said as he tossed another pass into play.
Tuesday was weights and more film. The Brickland guard with the D2 commit, His name was Tariq Jones. 6'3", strong frame, could shoot, and could post up smaller guards.
"He's gonna test you," Coach told Jamal and Trey. "He's not flashy, but he gets buckets."
On Wednesday, they ran sets nonstop. Flex, Stagger, High, Slip. Over and over again.
Trey had most of the reads down by now. He wasn't perfect. Coach still yelled at him every time he held the ball too long, but he was improving. Fast.
Thursday was the walkthrough. Coach went over the game plan again, made everyone write it down in their notebooks.
Slow down #4. Help off weak shooters. Stay out of foul trouble. Rebound. Push tempo.
Thursday was technically the first game for JV, so the Assistant Coach, Coach Rivers, had to take over the JV that day, so it was mostly varsity in the gym.
As practice ended, everyone circled up at center court.
"We're not the same team that lost last year," Coach Davenport said, pacing back and forth. "You earned your jersey. You earned your spot. Now earn some respect."
The locker room after was quieter than usual. The guys weren't as loud. Some sat with headphones in, some just stared at the floor.
Trey was in his own world. He scrolled through a few old clips on his phone his last middle school game, a few open gym highlights. He wasn't nervous. Just focused.
Friday was coming.
And he was ready to show what West Newark looked like when it had a guard who didn't back down from anybody.