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The arena buzzed with anticipation as the final seconds bled from the clock, two rivals locked in a 98-98 deadlock. Point guard Jalen Mitchell crouched at half-court, sweat dripping from his chin as he eyed 6'9" defender Carlos Rivera switching onto him. Seven ticks remained. A crossover dribble rattled Rivera's stance—Mitchell exploded left, fingertips brushing the hardwood as he sliced toward the elbow. Twin towers collapsed on him, arms rising like scaffoldings. He contorted mid-air, releasing the ball as the buzzer screamed. The Spalding kissed the backboard, then rim, circling twice before dropping through nylon. Bedlam erupted as Mitchell's teammates mobbed him beneath the net, Rivera slamming his headband to the floor. No overtime. No mercy. Just leather meeting hardwood and the sweetest silence before the storm.
