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The gym is so loud that it feels like it's a living breathing organism, it's not just the noise in the room but the pressure of it all.
The sound is packed tight and it's vibrating in Stebbins' chest with every stomp coming from the bleachers.
Hank is holding his recorder a few inches from his mouth eyes never leaving the court, not for a second.
"It's the fourth quarter," he murmurs into the mic, his voice steady despite the chaos of the court. "Two minutes left of this home game, the score is tied tighter then a fishermens knot, this is where the legendary Dolphins get built or buried by the Colts."
Next to him, hunched over a notebook scribbling like his life depends on it is Pearson, he's got graphite smudges on his hands and fingers. He doesn't even react in the slightest when some girl behind him screams Ray's name, he just keeps writing, his jaw clenching.
He's tracking stats, moments, anything he can turn into a headline for the school paper by midnight tonight, before Hank comes out with his sports editorial.
It's a friendly competition, at least that's what they tell themselves.
Across the court, Barkovitch is crouching low with his camera he's snapping pictures in time with his heartbeat. He takes a picture of Stebbins as he slams back down under a basket, sneakers squeaking against the floor, he's more sweaty then a WWE fighter, he gives a wink to Barkovitch, smiling at him before taking off.
Barkovitch just grins back at him not even lowering the camera to get a better look, because he lives for these moments, the moments right before things get interesting.
On the court, bodies are colliding into each other.
Ray has control of the ball at top of the key, his eyes are sharp, moving around like he's three plays ahead of everyone else.
He fakes left and instead pivots to the right, he sends a clean pass to Art who's on the wing, well Art doesn't even hesitate.
He never does, he rises, shoots, but he unfortunately misses by inches, the ball rattles out.
"Box out!" The Major could be heard bellowing from the sidelines. "You will have no sack, no soul, no damn common sense if you don't box out!"
Stebbins is already doing exactly that.
He plants himself under the rim, shoulders bracing, his arms up, teeth clenching, the opposing center tries to weasel past him and gets absolutely nowhere for that move.
Stebbins jumps with this smirk on his face, fingers brushing the ball first, tipping it just enough that Pete swoops in from the side and grabs the rebound kicking it back out to Ray giving him a wink as he does.
The crowd roars at that move alone.
"Set it up Garraty!" The Major shouts at the top of his lungs. "You better run it clean or I'll have you and McVries running suicides till you graduate!"
His voice cuts through literally everything, he's stalking the sidelines like he's daring the other coach to look at him wrong, he takes off his jacket, rolling up his sleeves which means he's getting serious now.
His face is bright red from the intensity of his screaming, this man has already chewed through two pieces of gum and spit them out onto the floor next to him like he's sending a message.
Ray signals to Collie who nods from the corner being calm as ever unlike their coach, who looks like he's about to pop a blood vessel, Collie's good like that, he doesn't waste energy like Major does, he doesn't panic especially as he shifts just enough to draw his defender before slipping free.
Ray passes to him.
Collie shoots.
Swish....it went in.
The gym explodes with cheers and yells.
Hank nearly drops his recorder witnessing all this. "That's it lady's and gentlemen," he says breathlessly into the mic. "That's leadership, that's trust between teammates."
Pearson can be heard underlining something twice, highlighter cap in his mouth.
On the sidelines, the cheerleaders burst into motion, the blue and gold from their uniforms are blurring together, they hit the floor in a perfect synchronization with each other, their voices sharp and loud.
"Push it! Drive it! Dolphins take it all the way!"
Clementine as per usual is front and center, her ponytail is snapping with each move, her grin fierce.
She nails a lift landing solid well throwing a look into the crowd and the court knowing exactly who that was for.
The opposing team calls a timeout, the noise dips turning into this buzz.
The Major immediately storms towards his players. "You think that meant anything at all?" he snaps. "You think one clean shot makes you gods? You get..." He cuts himself off before he can say another word, instead his focus shifts to Stebbins, jabbing a finger into his chest.
"Center, you're late on help defense fix it son."
Stebbins nods once at that, this smile coming over his face. "Yes, coach it won't be a problem."
Major snorts at this, like he knows it won't be. "Damn right it won't be son."
Richard is sitting three rows up, hands clasping so tight his knuckles are starting to hurt, he's been trying to convince himself he's here because it's a good sport to watch, because everyone and their mother is here, and it'd be weird not to be here.
Especially when his parents offered to babysit Marge for him and Barkovitch so they can be normal teenagers.
Their words not his.
But this is all lie.
Because his eyes keep finding Stebbins without meaning to, the way he moves all heavy and precise, the court almost makes room for him.
Richard notices sweat is darkening his jersey, his jaw is also set like he's holding something back.
Richard swallows nervously looking away, he can't do this, he can't think about this. He adjusts his glasses focusing on the scoreboard instead.
Eventually the timeout ends.
And the other team comes back aggressive and dirty, there's hard fouls, fast breaks.
Poor Ray gets clipped going for a layup, he ends up skidding across the floor.
"Get up Garraty!" Major yells not even a second after Ray hits the floor. "I see that you're still breathing, so you're not dead yet! But you will be if you don't get your sorry butt up!"
Ray gets up as quickly as he can, his eyes on fire.
He sinks both free throws without even blinking.
There's thirty seconds left on the clock.
The game eventually ties again, which is honestly no surprise there.
The noise is so unreal now, people are standing on the bleachers they're screaming and clapping. Hank's voice is starting to shake as he narrates everything he sees.
Pearson's handwriting goes to hell, it goes from slightly in eligible to complete scribbles.
At least he can read his own handwriting.
Back on the court the opposing guard drives slipping past Art he's heading straight for the basket.
Stebbins is moving almost immediately.
He meets the guy midair their chest to chest arms straight up. The ball smacks against Stebbins' palm and dies, it's a clean block which means no foul.
The crowd loses it's fucking mind at this.
Pete grabs the ball and books it passing it to Collie the first chance he gets who passes it to Ray, the clock is ticking down.
"Hold it Garraty!" Major screams at Ray. "Hold it 47, damn you!"
Ray is waiting, five seconds left, now four.
He looks over at Stebbins who's setting the screen, he's solid as a wall. Ray moves around him, the defender stuck. So Ray jumps, draws the defense, and dishes it inside.
Stebbins catches the ball, this grin coming over his face.
Knowing they're about to win.
For half a second, everything is slient in Richard's head as Stebbins turns and shoots.
The buzzer sounds at that exact moment.
But the ball still drops through the net.
It's over and the gym erupts, Hank is yelling something incoherent into his recorder well Pearson laughs out loud, already writing the lead. Barkovitch on the other side of the gym is snapping pictures so fast his fingers are starting to cramp.
On the court, teammates are swarming Stebbins, Collie pulls him into a headlock, Ray pounds on his back, Art starts whooping looking at the cheerleaders and the stands, well Pete nearly tackles Stebbins before grabbing onto Ray's waist and spinning him around.
Major points at his team, this fierce grin breaking through despite himself. "That's what I'm talking about gentlemen," he shouts. "That's sack!"
Richard is standing in the bleachers, his heart pounding like he played the stupid game himself. He just watches as Stebbins laughs it's this breathless laugh, surrounded by his teammates, and alive in a way that makes something twist low and warm in Richard's chest.
He sits back down slowly.
He tells himself it's nothing.