Story:Help a Huntaway out
Help a Huntaway out
Written by Unskaeth and Coyzn
27th of November, 2025
During a scrimmage, the head coach, Rocky Couture stops it with a sharp whistle.
“Jordan. Stop.”
Coach doesn’t raise his voice, as doesn’t need to. The silence does the work.
Jordan straightens up, hands on his shorts, breathing hard. “What?”
Coach points at the paint. “Your screens don’t move anybody. At all. Guards are slipping through you like you’re paper.”
He taps the clipboard once. “Box-outs? You’re getting walked under the rim. Rebounds are bouncing over your head and landing in our guards’ laps.”
A pause. Then the line that stings.
“There are nights our wings and guards out-rebound you. That shouldn’t even be possible.”
Jordan scoffs, half defensive. “I’m not built to bang like that-”
Coach cuts him off. “Then get built. Or get smart. Right now you’re neither.”
He turns his head slightly. “Roann.”
Roann looks up, surprised. Hesitates.
“Help him. Strength work. Positioning. Angles. Whatever you do in the paint, he needs it. Since Alan isn’t here, you’re the closest player here to have decent enough defense.”
Jordan opens his mouth again, frustration surfaces. “I am trying-”
“I know,” Coach says, calmer now. “And that’s why you’re still here. But trying without fixing the problem doesn’t help Queens.”
Jordan exhales, jaw tight. The protest dies halfway out. “…Alright.”
Coach nods once. “Good man. Because this team doesn’t carry weak links. Especially not at forward.”
He walks away.
Jordan stands there a second longer, then looks at Roann. “Guess I’m your problem now.”
Roann shifts his weight, uncomfortable. He hadn’t asked for this. But it is what it is.
Then he just sighs and nods.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Guess so.”
The two walked into the gym and Jordan asked him in a gentle tone about his daily workout, because the last time he did it was in his high school years. “So… how do you start off your reps?”
Roann stops near the rack. Then exhales.
“I usually don’t start heavy…” he muttered. “ I start light.”
He grips the bar, checking his hand placement out of instinct. “Work with your ankles, hips and core. If your base is weak, then everything on top is just fake strength.”
Jordan tries to copy the shepherd of what he was doing, he was a bit confused on how he did it, but quickly remembers how he did it and pulls it off quite well. “So is it something like this?”
He lifted the bar, he did struggle a lil at first but did it perfectly fine.
Roann watches him for a moment, eyes tracking the huntaway’s feet first, then his hips.
“Yeah…” he says, nodding once. “That’s it.”
He steps a little closer, taps two fingers against Jordan’s side.
“Sink your hips just a little more” he muttered. “Don’t rush it, just slow down.”
Jordan adjusts.
“Good…” Roann adds. “You’re stronger already. You’re just not used to it yet.”
He straightens back up.
“Keep it slow. Strength doesn’t come from just forcing the lift, it comes from staying there when it starts to burn.”
Jordan was genuinely surprised by how strong he could potentially be. If he started doing this on a daily basis with Roann, not only could he be good at setting screens for his guards, but he could easily box out other players and do all the dirty work in the paint.
Roann watches him quietly.
“Do this daily…” he muttered. “You won’t be finesse anymore. You’ll be more solid than ever.”
Jordan nods. He knows that It’ll be a long and tedious run for the huntaway, but he will endure it as long as the coach will be happy with his results.
Roann steps back, giving him space.
“Alright… I might as well make this worth both our time.”
(2 weeks worth of montage)
The gym is half-lit. Jordan dragged a sled across the floor, teeth clenched. Roann beside him, steady pace, not rushing.
“Chest up and don’t lean.” Roann said between reps.
Later on, medicine ball. Jordan stumbles once, then regains his balance.
“Again…” Roann muttered. “C’mon Jordan, try again.”
Box out drills. Roann bumps him hard on purpose. Jordan gets wormed out of the paint by him.
“Jordan, you need to stay low. Otherwise, that happens. And you’re taller than me.”
The huntaway groaned that he failed that easily on the box out drills, so he tried again but this time he was ready for him to bump hard again.
Roann bumps him hard again. Jordan holds this time.
“That…” Roann muttered. “That’s the difference.”
Sweat pooling. Hands on knees. Mid-session, Roann whispered as if talking to himself. “I still don’t know why the hell did the coach put me up instead of Alan.”
Jordan lifted his ears hearing that from Roann when he talked to himself. “What’s that dude?” He said in a calm but confused tone.
“Alan is a center. This should be his job. Where the hell is he anyway?” Roann says, wiping the sweat off his forehead.
“Probably in his locker room sulking after those losses we had, believe me… Besides, Alan is staying away from you for some reason? Why’s that?” Jordan said while he’s panting, holding his knees with his hands to keep himself balanced.
Roann stays still for a moment.
Jordan started calling his name multiple times after he was daydreaming for some reason. “Roann? Roann? Roann?”
His eyes flicked down at his right arm, covered with a dark sleeve, then back up like nothing happened.
He then shouted at the shepherd to finally get his attention. “ROANN!” Roann then snaps back to reality.
“Doesn’t matter.” Roann says.
Then, after a quick breath. “We don’t get along.”
“Some things are better left off the court.” He adds. “Especially if they don’t help us win.”
Jordan was pretty confused about the sudden hesitation from him, he was gonna question why he stopped but he quickly shrugs it off. For now…
Roann notices. But no comment from him. He just steps in again, shoulder squared.
“Screens, now,” he says.
Jordan plants his feet. Roann crashes into his screen. Jordan holds. Barely, but he holds.
“Good,” Roann says immediately. “Don’t chase. Make them go around you.”
They reset. Another rep. Another hit.
Jordan’s breathing gets rough, legs shaking, but the position stays solid.
A ball clanks off the rim. Roann points without looking.
“Find a body first,” he says. “Ball second.”
Jordan reacts late, then earlier the next time.
“Better,” Roann adds. “You’re learning.”
They move to rebounding drills. Roann gives him a sharp nudge from behind, testing him. Jordan drops his hips, absorbs it.
There’s a pause. Roann watches him, then says quietly, almost to himself.
“See? You don’t need to be Alan.”
Jordan exhales, half-smiling through the burn.
Roann nods once. The session keeps going, long and grinding.
and whatever Jordan almost asked stays unspoken, sitting between the reps.
The huntaway was sweating and panting profusely, the training for him was starting to take a toll on him, not physically, but mentally. “Come on Jordan… you can do it.” he said to himself.
Jordan then screamed to motivate himself so he could push through his limits, and prove himself as a 2nd rounder that he belongs in the league.
Featured Characters
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