War of Will (or) What we felt
First to Ten, Round 1
It all started with a simple idea.
A daydream, really.
To loosely recreate a nostalgic experience, by way of basketball.
For me, it’s personal.
I grew up playing pickup games on the court in front of my house in Yakima, Washington. I was maybe ten, maybe twelve. My brother Cameron (17 months older than me) and I started getting really passionate about the game. I think it was the Seattle Supersonics. What they were doing to the league at that time made us want to be hoopers. Made us feel like we could be great too.
On a cheap hoop my Mom scraped together enough money to buy. We lived close to the SunDome. There were always kids around, some older, some younger, and every day we tried to find a few to run with. If we saw someone walking down the block who looked our age, we’d run and invite them to challenge us, two-on-two, maybe a game of 21. (I was never shy.)
These are sacred memories to me.
Some of the earliest moments where I started to feel like me. Where I started to recognize who I was becoming. I realized I was the kind of person who found deep joy in the perfect assist.
Don’t get me wrong - I could shoot. But giving someone that pass, then seeing them cash in, and celebrating together? That meant more.
And that spirit—that experience—is the heartbeat of First to Ten.
“It was designed to feel like one of those games from back in the day. A little unscripted. A little underground. Just real ones showing up to hoop.”
This first ever First to Ten wasn’t a major event. We didn’t want it to be. It was designed to feel like one of those games from back in the day. A little unscripted. A little underground. Just real ones showing up to hoop.
We threw $300 in the pot. Winning team takes it, plus a custom First to Ten game ball. But really, it was about pride. Respect. Bragging rights. It was about building something that feels as real as those summer nights on my old block.
I write this not as a producer, but as a spectator. As someone who was lucky enough to witness something honest. And to document it, alongside my friend and basketball lover Mario Baroga.
The Game
Originally, we planned to host the event at Dawson Playfield, the blue courts. Open. Iconic. We wanted to play somewhere meaningful, somewhere overlooked. (But of course, Tacoma brought the rain.)
After a call with Coach Arvin Mosley - our spring partner, co-host, and local legend, we made the decision to pivot. To minimize the chance of injury on a slippery court.
We moved it to a covered court tucked behind Stanley Elementary in Hilltop. There’s no three-point line. The court is a little janky. But it worked.
6 PM sharp. That’s when it was scheduled. And both teams were there. On time. (Hoopers and artists both tend to run on their own clocks.) But at 6, they were lacing up, stretching, warming up.
Already talking shit.
Already measuring each other.
Already locked in.
Coach Mosley gathered the players. Went over the rules. Explained how he would ref. His presence felt like trust. Because Coach Mosley isn’t just a coach, he’s a teacher. He teaches young people how to lead, how to be accountable with their time, their hands, their words. It was an honor to have him beside us.
And then, it was on.
Cameras rolled. We captured everything.
And what we witnessed, what you now get to see in this full game video, was a raw, human, beautiful war of will.
“It reminds us that we are meant to be on teams. To push each other. To protect each other.”
“The Tacoma Demons”, led by team captain Cameron Sisopha, alongside Bradley Derrick and Markael James, came out hot. They fought for every basket. It took a few buckets for them to find their rhythm, but when they did it was almost lyrical. The chemistry, the angles, the step-back. It all showed.
But The Bricklayers, representing Olympia, came to play. Their team captain Rahat Kut, with Arie Dragt and Ian Allen, brought authentic hustle, and heart. They didn’t feel like opponents—more like contenders. They played with purpose. And they should be proud.
They left their stamp on the First to Ten series. (I hope we see them again.)
There’s something about basketball that taps into the primal.
It reminds us that we are meant to be on teams.
To push each other.
To protect each other.
It’s not a game. It’s a mirror. A language. A small war.
And when the final shot dropped, and the Demons stood victorious, you could feel the air shift. A release.
An exhale.
Exhaustion.
Respect. Because everyone gave everything.
So now what?
The question is: who’s next? Where will the next game be? What court will we play on?
You won’t know until a couple weeks before. And you won’t know the details until a day before. Just like back in the day.
To be in the know, you have to be tapped in.
Follow @theten253.
Watch the film.
Feel what we felt.
And stay ready.
Because the next First to Ten is already circling. See you in August.
