Chapter 05

Chapter 05

The Scrimmage Showdown

Friday arrived with a tension that seemed to hang over the entire campus. By noon, the sports complex was buzzing. Word had spread—faster than wildfire—that the basketball team was holding its first open scrimmage of the semester.

But that wasn’t the only rumor circulating.

Apparently, a “new fat guy” had been training somewhere on campus. Someone had heard him dribbling late at night. Someone else claimed he had seen him doing drills at impossible speed. One person swore they had seen him disappear behind the abandoned court with a mysterious old man.

Nobody said Kobby’s name, but everyone knew.

Kobby woke up that morning feeling like his heart was beating in two places at once—inside his chest and inside his sneakers. He tried to calm himself as he walked to the court, but the thought kept looping in his mind:

This is it. This is the moment they will see me.

When he reached the sports complex, a large crowd had already gathered—players, students, fans, and gossipers. Stone and his crew stood at the entrance, laughing loudly as usual.

“Look who came after all!” Stone shouted the moment he saw Kobby. “The bleachers—benches— better hold themselves tight today!”

His boys cracked up.

Kobby felt the insult hit him, but he gently brushed it aside. He remembered the Phantom’s words:
Pain is fuel. Doubt is fuel. But bitterness corrodes.

He walked past the group without looking at them.

Some students whispered boldly as he passed:

“There he is.”
“He really showed up.”
“Does he think this is a joke?”
“Chale, he go embarrass himself today.”

Kobby entered the court, feeling a strange pulse inside him. The lines on the floor glowed faintly—not in reality, but in his spirit. The gift was waking up.

Coach Selorm blew his whistle.
“All right! Everyone gather! We’re running full-court scrimmages. Veterans on orange. Freshers on white.”

The players lined up to receive their jerseys. When Kobby stepped forward, a few chuckles erupted from the crowd.

Coach Selorm stopped suddenly when he saw him.
“You,” he said. “Are you here to watch again?”

Kobby swallowed. His voice almost trembled—but he held it steady.
“No, Coach. I’m here to play.”

A wave of quiet laughter rippled through the stands.

Coach blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, sir.”

Selorm sighed heavily. “Young man… I told you already. This level is not for everyone.”

Kobby’s jaw tightened. “Just give me one chance.”

The coach shook his head. “One possession. If you mess up, you leave the court. Understood?”

Kobby nodded. “Understood.”

He took the white jersey.

Stone leaned in as he passed. “Your funeral.”

The whistle blew.

Teams lined up.

The game began.

And immediately, the ball found Kobby.

It wasn’t intentional—one of the freshers panicked under pressure and swung the ball blindly toward him. It sailed through the air, wobbling, heading right for his chest.

The crowd gasped.

Kobby reached out—

And the moment his sneakers slid inside the painted arc, the gift exploded inside him.

He didn’t catch the ball.

He absorbed it—smoothly, cleanly, effortlessly, as if his hands and the leather were magnetically synced.

Stone, surprised, lunged at him to steal it.

Kobby didn’t think.

He just moved.

His hands blurred.

CROSS — CROSS — BEHIND THE BACK — SPIN.

Stone stumbled. Literally stumbled. His ankle twisted and he fell backward onto his butt.

“EIIIIIIII!”
The crowd screamed.
Phones flew into the air.
People stood up in shock.

Kobby didn’t stop. His instincts carried him forward—two dribbles, a hesitation that froze the defender, and then he exploded toward the rim with a speed no one expected from someone his size.

He leapt—just a little, but enough—

LAYUP. Kiss off the glass. Two points.

Silence.
Then chaos.

“HERHHHH!”
“No way!”
“How did he—?!”
“That big guy?!”

Coach Selorm’s whistle fell out of his mouth.

Stone scrambled up, face burning. “Lucky,” he muttered. “Do it again.”

Kobby did.

Over and over.

Every possession of that scrimmage became a highlight reel:

Dribble combos that left defenders spinning

Pinpoint passes nobody saw coming

Bullet bounce passes right into teammates’ hands

Tight defense that stripped the ball with cat-like reflexes

Footwork that looked impossible for a fresher—and even more impossible for someone his size

And when he shot?

SWISH.
SWISH.
SWISH.

People who laughed earlier now stared wide-eyed, mouths open.

Stone grew angrier with each play. He charged at Kobby with brute force.

“Kwasia! Move out of my way!”

Kobby slid on defense, his feet light, his timing perfect. Stone crashed into him like a bulldozer—

But Kobby didn’t fall.

Stone did.

The gym erupted.
“WHAAAAAAAT!?”
“Impossible!”
“Is he human?!”

When the scrimmage ended, White team had beaten Orange for the first time in years.

And the scoreboard told the story:

White: 36 — Orange: 29
Kobby Mensah: 22 points, 7 assists, 5 steals.

Players gathered around him, slapping his back, asking where he learned to play like that.

But Coach Selorm walked up slowly, face unreadable.

“Kobby Mensah,” he said quietly, “report to the team practice on Monday.”

Gasps echoed all around.

“You… you’re joining the roster.”

Kobby felt his throat tighten with emotion.

He did it.

He actually did it.

Stone clenched his fists, glaring with humiliation and rage. But Kobby didn’t notice. The noise, the stares, the whispers—everything faded as he stepped off the court.

When he reached the hallway, away from the crowd, he felt a presence move behind him.

The Phantom.

Leaning against the wall, arms folded, a faint smile touching his lips.

“Well done,” he said softly.

Kobby exhaled shakily, still trembling with adrenaline. “I—I did it.”

The Phantom nodded. “You took your first step. But remember…”
His eyes darkened slightly.

“This is only the beginning.
And the higher you rise, the more enemies you will make.”

Kobby stood tall, the echoes of the crowd still ringing behind him.

He was ready.

Ready for the team.
Ready for the season.
Ready for the world.

The Big Black Baller had arrived.