They passed the ball around on the outside until Ryan, who had made a couple three-pointers already in the second half, had a wide-open look from the right. This time he missed. But Billy fought off two of the Jazz big guys for a huge offensive rebound, then kicked the ball back outside to Lucas. They had a new shot clock. Ryan was back in the low blocks, and made a move toward the free-throw line, as if they were going to run another pick-and-roll. But then he stopped suddenly, and was spinning back toward the basket. Lucas had read him all the way. Sometimes you just know. Maybe because they knew each other’s games so well.

Lucas lofted a pass over Max. Ryan banked his shot home.

They were ahead by two again.

Just over one minute left.

The Jazz didn’t rush. Corey chose the right side now for his isolation against Lucas. He checked the clock over the basket. But this time he didn’t try to back him in. This time when Lucas gave him just enough room, dared him to take a three in this situation, he did.

Made it.

The Jazz were ahead by one now, the first lead they’d had in the fourth quarter.

Fifty seconds left. Even if the Wolves scored and took back the lead, there would still be plenty of time for the Jazz to take the last shot, maybe the dream shot that from Corey or Max or somebody else that would win the championship game.

Gramps didn’t call time, even though he had a time-out in his pocket. He let his players play. It wasn’t just who they were. It’s who he was. With ten seconds left on the shot clock, Ryan came up and set one more screen. Lucas threw him the ball. Only he didn’t use the screen now. He was the one popping out, to the foul line extended.

Ryan passed the ball back to him.

Lucas let his shot go.

It felt like money leaving his hands, as if he’d put a Steph Curry stroke on it.

But Corey Tanner got a piece of it, because of those long arms. Problem was, he got a piece of Lucas, too. The sound his hand made on Lucas’s shooting hand sounded like a thunderclap in that moment. It was a clear foul. The ref didn’t hesitate, and blew the whistle.

Two free throws coming.

If Lucas made them both, his team was back in front.

So here were the two free throws he’d thought he might have to make in a big moment—or even the biggest—all season long. Here was why he had stayed in the gym or in the park until he had made ten in a row, making himself knock down ten in a row.

Only he didn’t need ten now.

Just two.