FEATURE: Spring Creek -- On the clock

By Justin Hayes
Published in Sports on January 20, 2017 9:59 AM

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SEVEN SPRINGS -- The music, a digital scroll of new country, 80's arena rock and bouncy hip-hop, reaches a cutting halt. In the gathering silence, a round saunters into form at the center jump circle.

The Monday morning, free-form warmup session is over.

It's time to work.

A voice emerges from the sideline, carrying a scale somewhere between frat brother and prudent father.

It speaks in code, but rings clear.

"You can't sneak up on anyone at this point," he suggests. "We're all-in together."

Welcome to the varsity hoops haven of Spring Creek head coach Taylor Jones.

The 32-year old continues, equal parts stern and humorous, reminding his troops the dangers of complacency. They've just slayed the dragon by winning at league exemplar James Kenan, but that wasn't the hard part.

This is. The now.

Being firmly on the radar of all things Carolina 1-A basketball, Jones explains, is trickier than most would dare imagine.

He wonders aloud how a team survives it. When the answers are slow to develop, Jones shortcuts the air.

"Let's go," he says.

The clock -- his ally and the team's governing body -- has already started.

*

9:01 a.m. -- There are touches, slaps and pounds to reaclimate his team with the rock. It's been just over 48 hours since their last game, but let's face it -- any time is a good time to be one with the basketball.

9:12 a.m. -- "You got no hops," Jones says to a player during a contact drill, "You look like an old man... I don't even know what that was."

They laugh, but the coach makes his point. Be explosive with our team's luggage.

9:33 a.m. -- As the old adage goes, speed kills. And the Gators move at warp efficiency, clearing baseline-to-baseline in two crisp passes and pounding the glass.

9:39 a.m. -- Jones notices everything. Are those eyes or 4-fold super-hero powers? "Good shot, Najee," he says. "Nice work, Domo."

Somewhere, Uncle Dean is smiling.

*

9:44 a.m. -- The drill sonnet continues, this time with a relentless 5-on-0, 3-on-2 package. His team's work rate is all hare, no tortoise, with respect to detail -- and then some.

Sensing even the slightest lull, Jones offers a reminder.

"Get over the Monday thing. Talk," he says.

10:14 a.m. -- Another teaching moment, this time indicating when a pass should be exercised within a half court set.

"Great drive," he exclaims, "but we prep for success early. The time to make that decision is here (the elbow)."

10:21 a.m. -- Install, install, install. The grind never slows or gets old, and Jones rifles through game-plan portion of the morning like a first-year coach.

10:32 a.m. -- Half court, five-on-five. In other words, rotation, responsibility and recall -- lots of it.

"Sprint to responsibility," Jones reminds them.

*

10:50 a.m. -- The full court finale, blue on white. Good on good. Earn your time at North Duplin, boys. Prop up a teammate. Impress the basketball Gods.

To a man, they do.

10:58 a.m. -- The time trial is over, and the players, drenched in the rinse of their two-hour open run, are back in the round.

Jones looks at his boys.

"It's like I sent y'all in the text," he says, "always thankful, never satisfied... we need a contribution from everyone. That's why we're a team. You have to be that guy all the time."

His clock, it seems, never stops.