INT. FISERV FORUM — COURT — OPENING NIGHT (FLASHBACK)
It’s a packed house. Number 22 jerseys fill the stands—white and green and cream and blue. Fans bite into hot dogs and sip on beer as they watch the action.
On the court, KEVIN (25, starting point guard) drives left, collapsing the defence into the paint, then sprays it out to MYLES (29) in the corner, who hits the three—his first points as a Buck. Myles reciprocates the favour, swinging the ball to Kevin on the left wing. Kevin jab fakes, putting his defender on his heels, then rises for three—splash! Time out, Wizards. 8:32 on the game clock.
SIDELINE — TIMEOUT
Fans stand, cheering and wiping their eyes. The jumbotron flashes—a decade of highlights condensed into a few moments. KHRIS (Bucks icon, sacrificial lamb) watches on the sidelines, then walks onto the court in his road whites, “WIZARDS” sprawled across the front. He raises his right arm to the crowd, then his left. Pats his chest with his palm—he’s home.
COURT — CONTINUOUS
A WHISTLE blows and the action returns. Khris senses the moment and drains a step back three. Kevin sneaks from behind KYSHAWN (21, Wizards sophomore) for the steal off the inbounds pass. He stands upright in the low block, takes a nonchalant dribble between his legs. Sees JON (42) and nods, unable to withhold the smile. He impersonates Carmelo Anthony on the catch off a feed from GARY (26), rises straight into another three. Shimmies his shoulders on the back-pedal to defence. Then the crescendo. He curls around a screen from BOBBY (30), drives into the lane, CJ (34) on his hip. But the defense is of no consideration, and Kevin launches off of two feet, throws down a two-handed hammer. The crowd erupts. Another time out.
COURT — TIMEOUT
BANGO (mascot, underpaid) stands on the logo, throwing half-court overhead shots. One miss. Another. Then another. Eventually, he fulfils the promise, and at least one Brew Hoop staffer pumps his fist. Above, the jumbotron says it all: 33-14.
COURT — CONTINUOUS
Back in the action, Gary misses a straight-away three-pointer and CAM (21, Wizard) grabs the board and pushes in semi-transition. Kevin picks him up at the logo, but Cam lowers his shoulder and barrels right into his chest at the three-point line. The momentum carries Kevin back, straight into Bobby. In the recoil, Kevin’s foot lands on Bobby’s, sending him sliding beyond the baseline, writhing in pain, hands clutching at his ankle. There’s an audible hush in the arena, teammates’ eyes darting between each other and Kevin, unsure where to look. Kevin tries to get up, supporting himself with his hands. But he can’t, and rolls onto his back once again, the green of the jersey bleeding into the “MILWAUKEE” lettering on the baseline.
INT. FISERV FORUM — TRAINER’S ROOM — LATER
The room is dark. Kevin sits alone on a trainer’s table, leg horizontal, ankle wrapped in ice. His head is bowed. He grabs a ball of used tape from beside him, tosses it on the ground. Runs his fingers through his braids.
(NON-DIEGETIC) MUSIC: “THE WEARY KIND” BY RYAN BINGHAM
Overhead, the lights flicker on. Kevin raises his head, looks towards the door. It’s Jon. Jon purses his lips, opens his arms, and walks towards Kevin.
I… I was…
They’ll know.
Scoot. It’s game one. 81 to go. Get yourself some rest.
Jon turns, heads back towards the door. Stops, turns back.
Hey, we need you.
Kevin nods, and Jon exits, the door swinging shut.
INT. FISERV FORUM — LOCKER ROOM — A WEEK LATER
The locker room is buzzing. Music blares through speakers, and the players are hyped, smiles plastered across their faces. Beat reporters linger like gulls, trying to find the perfect pull-quote. A TV shows highlights of the night’s game, the final scores scrolling across the screen: Bucks 121 defeat Knicks 111. In the middle of it all, GIANNIS (30, MVP leader) sits back in a chair, having his hair cut.
Hey! Hey! This is what I’m talking ‘bout!
The room erupts in laughter. Bobby throws a towel at him.
DOC (64, head coach) enters, moves to the middle of the room. Hushes everyone.
I told you, play like this—together—and we have the chance to do something really special.
He turns and motions to an equipment manager, who promptly exits the room.
Seriously, we commit to defense like that—like we did late in the fourth—and we can be a problem for everyone. It’s about doing it together. About sacrifice. Kuz… Where’s Kuz?
He scans the room, finds KYLE (30, maligned), and looks him in the eye.
You’ve epitomised this. Your work on KAT was just phenomenal, big fella.
Hands pat Kyle’s knees, back. Kyle tilts his head down, tries to conceal a smile.
But we can’t ignore the efforts of another young man tonight.
The equipment manager returns, hands a ball to Doc.
A career high 25 points, eight of 11 from the field. Four steals. Absolutely hounded Brunson all night long. Rylo, you were incredible. The game ball belongs to you.
Doc hands the ball to RYAN (23, starting point guard) and then exits the room. On that, the music cranks back up, and the Bucks rush Ryan, rubbing his head, patting him on the back. He’s devoured by the huddle. Kevin joins in on the outside, throws his arms around the guys, the sleeves of his black jacket cresting on the sea of white jerseys.
INT. PRACTICE FACILITY — COURTS — DAY
The sound of shoes squeaking. Kevin is scrimmaging, five-on-five, a full-contact workout. SWEAT runs off his face. He gets into a defensive stance, low; arms spread, hands active. He’s invested in this.
Ice, ice, ice!
Kevin jumps the screen, gets high, forcing the ball-handler downhill—into the corner. The big drops, blocking the baseline path. The ball-handler tries to swing it to the screener, but Kevin is on to it, one step ahead. He swipes at the ball, pokes it loose—reacting like an F1 driver off the lights—and grabs possession. Power dribbles three times up court. In a flash, he’s at the three-point line. The free throw line. The dotted line. He launches off one foot, cocks it back in his left, and jams it home.
EXT. PRACTICE FACILITY — CARPARK — LATER
It’s late afternoon; autumn leaves rake the pavement. Kevin exits the practice facility and heads towards his car. He takes his time, soaking in the last of the Wisconsin sun. Just before his car, he stops. Grimaces. He drops his bag, reaches for his knee, tilts his head down. A lump.
INT. PRACTICE FACILITY — ATHLETIC TRAINER’S OFFICE — THE NEXT DAY
CLOSE ON A TEAM PHYSICIAN (50s) looking down through his glasses. He flicks through papers, finds the right one. Inspects it closely. Kevin’s FOOT bounces on its toes under his chair.
So… what are we looking at?
Meniscus. It’s minor, but you’ll require surgery. You won’t be out long—a month, perhaps.
You’re booked in for next week.
Kevin stares through the physician, squeezes the arms of the chair. Underneath, his foot picks up the pace.
MATCH CUT TO:
INT. FISERV FORUM — COURT — NIGHT
Kevin sits on the bench, his foot bouncing away. It’s tight in the final quarter—4:12 on the clock—and the Milwaukee Bucks and Golden State Warriors are going back and forth. STEPH (ageless sniper) hits a three off a feed from AL (39, mercenary). Ryan answers it with a step back three of his own. The jumbotron flashes: 109-104, Bucks.
Sensing the moment, the crowd rises, chanting along with the PA system: “Defense! Defense!” Steph pushes the ball in transition, using a screen and in-and-out dribble to create space, and heads to the cup. AJ (bird, dairy variety) comes across in help, jumps vertically, and meets Steph with his chest. The ball rims out, and the Bucks get the rebound. The crowd erupts.
The game is all but over, the game clock TICKING down: 28, 27, 26. Ryan controls the action, steps back, and launches another three. It splashes through the net. Rapture. Moments later, he’s mic’d up with a sideline REPORTER (30s).
… back-to-back career-highs, 32 tonight. You must really feel like you’re making the position your own?
In the background, Kevin rises off the sideline bench, turns toward the tunnel.
SFX: HIGH-PITCHED, DISTORTED TONES (BUILDING, OVERTAKING THE SCENE)
The arena blurs. Everything slows—the wave of a team flag, hands high-fiving, an arm reaching down in search of an autograph. With it all, the high-pitched tones grow louder, piercing.
Until black.
EXT. MILWAUKEE SKYLINE — SUNSET
An orange-frost sunset sinks into the horizon, the sky streaked with darkened clouds.
MATCH DISSOLVE TO:
INT. ROCKET ARENA — COURT — NIGHT (TWO WEEKS LATER)
Orange fills the frame. The camera DOLLIES BACK to reveal a Cavaliers City Edition jersey, then CRANES UP to show the court, game in action.
Giannis catches the ball in the mid-post, turns, and faces his defender. Drives baseline. He rises into a sea of defenders, screams at the mid-air contact, and crashes onto the ground. Kyle taps in the rebound, and the Cavaliers inbound the ball immediately, push it up-court. Giannis struggles to get up, GRIMACES on his way back, clutching his groin. He hacks an opponent to draw a whistle, heads straight down the tunnel.
BEGIN MONTAGE:
INT. PRACTICE FACILITY — GYM — DAY
Kevin and Giannis rehab together—stationary bike, mobility exercises, weights. They’re determined. Focused.
INT. PRACTICE FACILITY — COURTS — DAY
Kevin and Giannis take spot-up shots, rebound for one another.
INT. FISERV FORUM — NIGHT
The Philadelphia 76ers dribble out the ball as the final siren sounds. The scoreboard: BUCKS 114 76ERS 123 OT.
INT. PRACTICE FACILITY — COURTS — DAY
Kevin and Giannis start running. Straight lines, then curves. Side-to-sides. Sprints.
INT. FISERV FORUM — COURT — NIGHT
Bucks’ shots at the hoop. Miss after miss after miss. The scoreboard: BUCKS 94 TRAIL BLAZERS 112. 3:18 on the clock. AMIR (28, vet), PETE (25, big man), THANASIS (33, hype man), and MARK (23, undersized rookie)—third stringers—check into the game. Bobby lumbers to the bench. Throws a towel on the floor.
INSERT — SERIES OF HEADLINES:
“Bucks drop fifth straight.”
“Bucks vs. Trail Blazers Player Grades: Bobby Portis and Cole Anthony can’t carry struggling starters.”
“Tuesday Tracker: Is it time to move on from Doc Rivers?“
INT. PRACTICE FACILITY — COURTS — DAY
Kevin and Giannis scrimmage. One-on-one turns to three-on-three, then turns to five-on-five. The intensity increases, and SWEAT pours off them. It gets physical, Giannis flooring Kevin on a finish. He reaches a hand out, pulls Kevin up. On the other end, Kevin hits a step-back over Giannis. Stares at him. Giannis glares back. But the façade can’t last; their glares turn to grins.
END MONTAGE.
INT. FISERV FORUM — COURT — NIGHT
The court is spot-lit, lights fanning through the stands. Flames jet vertically from fire canons. The hardwood is crowded. Officials congregate at half-court. Camera operators move in and out, trying to find the best vantage point. Television commentators speak into microphones, deliver their pre-game analysis. Over the PA system, a voice.
ANNOUNCER (V.O. over PA)
Starting at forward, first in the record books and first in your hearts, it’s the Greek Freak—Giannis Antetokounmpo! At the other forward, give him space, and he’ll stick it in your face, it’s the man from Northern Iowa, AJ Greeeeen. At center, in his 11th year out of Texas, he’s ready to rain treys and reject you at the rim, Myles Turner!
Giannis, AJ, and Myles bump chests. There’s a renewed energy in the crowd—fists pump, kids jump and dance.
ANNOUNCER (V.O. over PA)
And, in the backcourt, starting at guard—
The camera pans to Kevin, eyes down. Focused.
ANNOUNCER (V.O. over PA)
Pull-up middies. Left-handed flushes at the rim. You name, and he does it—
The camera CLOSES IN on Kevin.
ANNOUNCER (V.O. over PA)
It’s the ultimate glow-up, two-way contract to two-way star, Ryan R-R-R-R-R-Rollins!
Ryan skips through, clapping his hands. Joins the other starters.
ANNOUNCER (V.O. over PA)
And at the other guard, returning with unfinished business, rising like a phoenix from fire, Kevin Porter Junior!
Kevin lifts his head, jogs through to the starters. He and Ryan hug each other, NOD.
Kevin turns to Giannis. They’re forehead-to-forehead, determination in their eyes. The camera CIRCLES them, Giannis pushing his index finger into Kevin’s chest. Back and forth. Amping him up. Kevin flares his nostrils, rapidly nods his head.
Let’s do this. It’s time to make a run.
SMASH TO BLACK.