February 13, 2026—an off-night hush,
the arena lights resting like coals.
We listen to the city breathe,
counting steps toward the final third,
knowing the schedule tightens its grip.

Playoff or play-in, the talk swirls,
a coin of pressure turning in every palm.
We sharpen spacing, we chase rebounds,
we trust the bench to rise,
a rope of depth against the strain.

Recent slips are lessons, not verdicts,
and new faces find their corners in gold.
Practice hums, quiet and exact,
each drill a promise to February’s cold,
each breath a step back to rhythm.

When the break lifts and the road returns,
we carry the Valley’s patient heat.
No game tonight, but the work is here,
a sunbank waiting behind clouds,
ready to burn through March and beyond.