The first layup sequence was clean. Off the right foot, soft release off the backboard. No wasted motion.
The second looked nearly identical.
The third was performed left-handed, mirroring the first two almost perfectly despite the technique having been explained less than a minute earlier.
Several players exchanged glances.
The free throws were even more alarming.
A senior teammate spent several minutes explaining the shooting rhythm, knees, elbow alignment, follow-through, hold the wrist.
Stan listened, then he casually stepped to the line.
Four of his first five shots dropped cleanly through the net. The fifth spun around the rim before bouncing out.
He paused for a second, adjusted the arc slightly, and made the next eight in a row.
By then, the players watching from nearby had become noticeably quieter.
The three-point line was where they genuinely stopped pretending everything was normal.
Stan was shown the spot, shown the form.
