Highlight Game: January 27th, 2026 - Capital One Arena, Washington D.C.
(19-29) Portland Trail Blazers at Washington Wizards (7-38)POR | 34 | 29 | 37 | 24 | 124 WAS | 25 | 28 | 26 | 23 | 102
Starting Lineups
Jrue Holiday - G - C.J. McCollum
Shaedon Sharpe - G - Tre Johnson
Deni Avdija - F - Corey Kispert
Toumani Camara - F - Anthony Gill
Donovan Clingan - C - Alexandre Sarr
A Cold Day in Hell - Episode 14
"You're starting tomorrow night against the Knicks," Coach Billups said, his expression steady as he delivered the news as calmly as he would order his lunch.
Keshawn nodded, swallowing hard as he absorbed the words. His first NBA start. In the Garden, no less, on a nationally televised game.
"I appreciate the opportunity, Coach," he said, keeping his voice level despite the adrenaline surging through his system. "I'll be ready."
Coach Billups clapped a hand on his shoulder, the weight of it grounding. "Nothing changes, Chase. Just keep doing what you’re doing, you’ve played with most of the guys on this unit anyway but enjoy the moment too, you’ll never forget it."
The duality of Coach Billups’ advice rattled around in Keshawn’s head as he nodded and began walking back towards the court. Around him, his teammates were winding down their shooting drills, some already heading toward the locker room. He caught Toumani's eye across the court – a flash of contact before Toumani looked away, jaw tight.
Keshawn understood. He'd be pissed too if their situations were reversed. Starting spots were currency in this league – minutes, exposure, contract leverage. The former second round pick had developed into a starter last year for the Blazers, bringing defense and length to the starting unit. Keshawn brought the same and was a lottery pick. The writing had been on the wall, only delayed.
…
Stefan pushed open the door to Lorenzo's house, the familiar smell of weed and cigarettes hitting him as he stepped inside. The front room was empty, but he could hear voices coming from the kitchen. He followed the sound, his backpack with his basketball over his shoulder, a habit more than anything else these days.
"I'm telling you, we can move twice as much if we—" The voice stopped abruptly as Stefan rounded the corner.
Four men sat around Lorenzo's kitchen table. Lorenzo was there, looking annoyed at the interruption. Next to him was OG Tiny and Baby Nut, both of which nodded in recognition. The fourth man, however, was a stranger.
"The fuck you doing here?" Lorenzo asked, his tone making it clear Stefan had walked in on something he wasn't supposed to see.
"Just chilling," Stefan said vaguely, trying to act like he belonged.
The stranger's eyes flicked to Stefan, eyeing him up and down, trying to place his face.
"We politicking right now," Lorenzo said, standing up. "Come back later."
"Y’all can go about y’all busin—"
"I said later, nigga!" Lorenzo cut him off, walking over to physically guide him back toward the front door. "Go practice your jump shot or something, cuz!"
Stefan felt heat rise to his face. "Bruh, what you on right now?"
"Nigga, I don’t gotta explain shit to you," Lorenzo hissed under his breath, pushing him toward the door. "Get the fuck on, cuz! I ain’t going to say it again!"
The door closed in his face. Stefan stood there for a moment, the bag heavy on his shoulder. The weight of it seemed to mock him.
Stefan started walking, no destination in mind. The basketball court called to him out of habit, but what was the point? Even if he got his shit together and made it back to the team, it was another wasted season anyway. And here in the streets? He'd never been more than Lorenzo's little cousin who played basketball, not a real gangbanger. Just a kid they'd jumped in because he was family, not because he'd put in work.
…
The arena vibrated with noise as the referee's whistle cut through the air. Keshawn jogged toward the Blazers bench, sweat streaming down his face. He had survived the frantic first few minutes of his NBA start, simultaneously trying to calm himself while still bringing the energy that made him the player that he was. Madison Square Garden's energy was something else—like the building itself was alive.
"Good cut on that last play, rook," Coach Billups said as Keshawn grabbed his towel.
Keshawn nodded, but his eyes drifted past the coaching staff to the courtside seats. There she was, four seats from the Blazers bench. Candace. They had loosely discussed her coming to the game, even before he was named a starter but no plans had been finalized, which was the nature of their relationship. As if his first NBA start wasn’t enough, he was doing it in the Garden, on national television with his celebrity 'girlfriend’ front row.
She caught his glance and the corner of her mouth twitched upward. He quickly looked away, pretending to focus on Coach's clipboard. They'd been doing this dance for months now—stolen looks, secret smiles, careful to keep their relationship under wraps. The last thing either of them needed was the media circus that would follow if people found out one of the league's top rookies was dating one of music's biggest stars.
Keshawn risked another glance. A Knicks player had wandered over toward her seat during the timeout—some bench guard who hadn't played a minute tonight. He was leaning down, saying something that made Candace smile politely. The kind of smile Keshawn had to learn was just for show.
"You good?" Shaedon, his teammate, asked beside him, following his gaze.
Keshawn didn't answer. The Knicks player was still talking, still too close to Candace. She shifted in her seat, that fake smile still plastered on her face.
Before he could think about it, Keshawn was moving. He stepped away from the huddle, water bottle in hand.
"Your jersey looking crisp, bro," he called out, loud enough to be heard over the arena noise, "I don’t think she talk to niggas that sit on the bench all day, nigga."
The Knicks player turned, surprise flashing across his face. "Who you talking to?"
"The sorry ass nigga that’s not even in the scouting report," Keshawn stepped closer. "She don’t know who you is, nigga. Shit, your fucking coach probably doesn’t even know you either. Go fetch a Gatorade or something, Jalen tired out there."
"Nigga, who the fuck is you?" the player pushed off from the courtside barrier, moving toward Keshawn.
"You know who I am," Keshawn smiled.
Two more Knicks players materialized behind their teammate, and suddenly Keshawn felt his own teammates flanking him. The situation escalated in seconds—voices rising, bodies pressing closer together.
"Break it up!" A referee pushed between them, whistle blaring. "Come on, now. We’re not doing this right now, boys."
"You better watch yourself, nigga," the Knicks player pointed a finger in Keshawn’s direction as his teammates pulled him away.
Keshawn felt a hand on his shoulder—Damian Lillard’s, steering him back to their bench. "Didn't know you had that in you, Chase," he said, a new respect in his voice. "About time."
Back at the bench, his teammates were grinning, some even clapping him on the back. Coach Billups just shook his head, but Keshawn caught the hint of a smile there too.
"Alright, focus up," Coach Billups clapped his hands together. "We’ve got a long game ahead of us!"
As the team huddled, Keshawn couldn't help but look back at Candace. She was watching him and when she caught his gaze, she pressed her fingers to her lips and blew him a subtle kiss.
…
Keshawn jogged onto the court for warmups, stealing another glance at Candace. The Knicks had built a 56-45 lead by halftime, their home crowd starting to settle into the game. Coach Billups' words from the locker room still rang in his ears: "We need to beat them with our energy."
As the third quarter began, Keshawn found himself matched up against Karl-Anthony Towns on a switch. The big man backed up, giving him space, wanting to provide a paint presence. But something clicked in Keshawn's mind as he watched Towns' defensive stance – the slight heaviness in his feet, the way he leaned forward.
"Those big guys can’t keep up with you," Keshawn was reminded of Coach Bronstein’s words, something he’d always told him, dating back to high school.
The next possession, he handed the ball off to Jrue at the top of the key and immediately cut backdoor. His defender, caught watching the ball, never saw him coming. Jrue delivered a perfect bounce pass, and Keshawn caught it in stride, rising for a two-handed slam.
He landed and immediately locked eyes with the bench player from earlier, who was leaning forward in his seat. Keshawn held his stare for a beat longer than necessary before jogging back on defense.
A few possessions, he did it again – this time curling off a screen from Deni and catching Mitchell Robinson flat-footed. Another easy layup.
"Good cut, young fella!" Coach Billups called out as they headed back on defense.
The points came in a flurry as the Knicks struggled to adjust with Keshawn beginning to find his confidence on defense as well. He forced Karl-Anthony to settle for a long three pointer and immediately leaked out with Jerami finding him in transition for the easy fastbreak drunk. He glanced back towards the bench, holding his stare for another beat longer that lasted well into the defensive possession.
The player was mouthing something back but Keshawn couldn’t hear him over the crowd which had started to transform into a nervous energy. Keshawn briefly looked up at the scoreboard, both realizing that they were now leading by two and that he had scored sixteen points in the third quarter.
They forced another defensive stop and Coach Billups sent in another play, this time a handoff action between Jrue and Jerami with Keshawn folding in to free up Jerami with a screen that was supposed to result in an open shot for him. Instead, Jerami quickly released the ball towards the paint just as Keshawn came off the screen, the ball landing in his arm as he went up in one motion and thundered the ball through the basket.
The Knicks quickly called a timeout with an angry Mike Brown practically halfway onto the court by the time the whistle blew. Keshawn took his time walking off the court, finding that Knicks player on the bench as he walked past the forming huddle.
"Yeah, fuck nigga!" he told him as he rolled his shoulders, "You’re going to remember this work, sorry ass bitch."
Dame was on his feet, pounding his chest and pointing at Keshawn. "That's what I'm talking about! Show these niggas you is, youngin’!"
"Get in the game, pussy!" Keshawn turned back to face the Knicks bench as the player had returned fire, although Keshawn couldn’t make out what they were saying over the music playing in the arena.
Coach Billups was trying to look stern but failing. "Stay in the game, Chase! They got no answer for you right now."
Keshawn nodded, his breath coming hard. He glanced over at Candace, who was on her feet, clapping and beaming. Their eyes met for the briefest moment before he turned back to the huddle.
"You got to finish this shit now, rook," Dame said. "Show 'em who you are and how you what!"
Highlight Game: January 30th, 2026 - Madison Square Garden, New York City, New York
(20-29) Portland Trail Blazers at New York Knicks (31-17)POR | 28 | 17 | 31 | 27 | 103 NYK | 20 | 36 | 15 | 25 | 96
Starting Lineups
Jrue Holiday - G - Jalen Brunson
Shaedon Sharpe - G - Mikal Bridges
Deni Avdija - F - OG Anunoby
Toumani Camara - F - Josh Hart
Donovan Clingan - C - Karl-Anthony Towns
A Cold Day in Hell - Episode 15
Keshawn strode through the doors of the Blazers practice facility with a bounce in his step he couldn't hide. The security guard nodded at him, offering a fist bump that Keshawn gladly returned. The previous night felt like a fever dream. The crowd, the lights, Candace watching courtside—and then later, in his hotel room. This is what the NBA was about, he thought.
He pushed through the double doors leading to the main part of the facility, expecting a bit of a buzz as they ended their road trip with a winning streak. Instead, he walked into a strange hush. A few staff members huddled near the equipment room, speaking in low voices.
Something was off. Keshawn slowed his pace, the euphoria from last night fading as he picked up on the tension in the air. He headed toward the training room, where he usually got his ankles taped before workouts. Through the glass door, he spotted Dame sitting on one of the tables, phone in hand, his face unreadable.
"What’s up," Keshawn said as he pushed open the door.
Dame looked up, pocketing his phone. "Young rook, how you living?"
"I’m all good," Keshawn shrugged, but couldn't help adding, "I wouldn’t mind another game like last night, though."
"You definitely have to go for fifty next time," Dame replied, though his usual enthusiasm seemed muted.
Keshawn's stomach tightened. "Everything cool?"
Dame sighed, stretching out his recovering ankle. "Jrue and Jerami got traded this morning."
"What?"
Keshawn had just seen them a few hours ago when they landed from their overnight flight, sharing nods and daps before going their separate ways. Jrue and Jerami were the veterans of the team and with Dame sidelined with his injury, the unquestioned leaders of the team.
"For who?" Keshawn finally managed to ask, his mind racing.
"It’s a three team trade," Dame explained, the details not yet finalized when Dame had learned of the news through the grapevine, "They’re going to Philly but we’re getting Porter, from Brooklyn."
Keshawn sank onto the bench across from Dame, the news settling heavy on his shoulders. Just yesterday they'd been celebrating together in the locker room after the win. He knew it was a business, Coach Bronstein had made sure to remind him at every turn but that did little to sooth the uneasiness he felt in his stomach.
"Damn," Keshawn muttered.
"Yeah," Dame nodded, "That’s the league, young rook."
Keshawn’s mind began to wonder. Porter was a champion, a proven player and would be the highest paid player on the team. He also happened to play Keshawn’s position.
"Just focus on your game," Dame assured him, recognizing the uneasiness on the rookie’s face, "Whether you start, don’t start, everyone in this building know who you are and what you can do."
Keshawn nodded, heeding to his veteran’s advice.
…
"You can't just show up like this! This is my space, you understand that, right?"
Vic leaned against the doorframe of her apartment. "I thought you would appreciate the help."
"You throwing off my schedule isn’t helping anything," Jessica bounced a fussy Yesenia on her hip, the baby's whimpers growing louder. "I’m supposed to dropping her off at the day care and instead, I’m standing here, talking to you about the same shit we’ve spoken about a thousand times when I should be getting ready for my test."
"I don’t see the issue," Vic said, reaching for Yesenia again. This time Jessica didn't pull away. "I can watch her while you take the test."
Jessica's eyes narrowed as she reluctantly let him take the baby. "Routine for her is important, Vic."
"I’m going to make this a routine then," Vic settled Yesenia against his chest, who already begun to calm down. He followed Jessica into the kitchen, closing the door behind him.
Jessica slammed a bottle on the counter harder than she intended, making them both wince. "You say that, but then you're off to Portland for weeks at a time. What am I supposed to do with that, Vic?"
"I'm trying to figure it out too," Vic said quietly. "I don’t know, Keshawn’s starting to settle in. I’ll probably be around more."
Jessica paused, her shoulders sagging slightly as she looked at Vic holding their daughter. Yesenia had stopped fussing entirely, her tiny hand wrapped around Vic's finger.
"You know how to warm the bottles, right?" she asked, her tone softening just a fraction.
"Test it on my tongue, not my wrist," Vic recited, recognizing the shift in her demeanor. "I remember."
Jessica hesitated, then reached for her backpack on the counter. "She needs to eat at eleven and then again around two. She'll probably take a nap after her first bottle."
"Yeah, I got it," Vic bounced Yesenia gently. "Go focus on your test or take a nap, whatever. I got this."
Jessica nodded, then moved toward the living room where her laptop was set up. She paused, turning back. "Vic?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks," she said quietly. "I... I appreciate you being here today."
The words seemed to cost her something, but they landed warm in Vic's chest. "Yeah, of course."
Jessica gave him a small smile—the first genuine one he'd seen from her in months—before disappearing into the living room with her textbook.
…
Keshawn pulled his car into the driveway as he lowered the music, letting the silence settle in for a few seconds before stepping out of the car. He tucked his hands into his pocket, making a mental note that he needed to remind Vic to finish clearing out the garage which had slowly evolved into a storage room, kicking the cars out onto the driveway. It wasn’t bad on most nights but tonight was a particularly cold one as Keshawn approached the door.
Just as he reached for his keys, he heard the sound of a car door closing and then approaching footsteps. Keshawn turned around, putting his keys away as he tried to make out the figure that was approaching him. A fan? A delivery? Vic had texted him that he’d be in Los Angeles for the next few days so maybe he had ordered some food to stock up in his absence. Instead, Keshawn was finally able to make out the face as it stepped into the lights that illuminated the walkway to the door.
"What’s up, loc?" Stefan said with a wide smile, "How you living, champ?"
G Jrue Holiday: 7 pts, 4 reb, 5 ast, 3-8 FG, 1-4 3PT
G C.J. McCollum: 31 pts, 8 reb, 3 ast, 11-30 FG, 9-21 3PT
@ 
(17-26)
(20-23)
@ 
@ 
(18-28)
C Karl-Anthony Towns: 23 pts, 9 reb, 2 blk, 10-21 FG, 1-6 3PT