The Night the Kids Bled Ink in the Desert
by someone who cannot dunk
They don’t tell you this when you lace up the sneakers and look out at the empty hardwood—
that the Summer League isn’t just a proving ground.
It’s the gallows with a velvet rope.
It’s the drunk tank of broken mechanics, the rehearsal for survival.
It’s where the kids go to sweat out the dream and maybe, just maybe, leave with a name.
On July 10th, in the rotten underbelly of Las Vegas,
in a city built on delusion and dice,
the 2025 NBA Summer League lit its first cigarette.
Let me tell you what happened.
SPURS 111, SIXERS 70 — The Desert Massacre
San Antonio walked in with no fanfare, no press frenzy, no celebrity sidelines.
But they played like they’d been called ugly too many times.
Carter Bryant, the long-limbed mystery out of Arizona, gave Philly a soft five points but stood up tall with 3 blocks and a taste for chaos.
The rest?
A blur of young killers.
They shot 53% from the floor, held Philly to 33%, and outscored them 64–30 in the second half.
This wasn’t basketball. It was a back-alley brawl dressed in Nike gear.
San Antonio had 6 players in double figures.
They forced 25 turnovers.
They out-rebounded the Sixers by 21.
You could smell the heat off the court.
And Philly?
They never stood a damn chance.
BUCKS 90, NUGGETS 89 — The Bouyea Bullet
Jamaree Bouyea doesn’t carry a name brand,
but last night he carried a moment.
With 0.9 seconds on the clock and a one-point deficit,
Bouyea curled like smoke across the baseline, caught a laser, and flicked it home.
Buzzer.
Game.
The Bucks bench exploded like this was Game 7.
And maybe, to Bouyea, it was.
He finished with 13 points, 5 assists, and the kind of shot that buys you another week of relevance.
Cormac Ryan added 10 and a stellar +16 in 23 minutes.
Chris Livingston chipped in 10 rebounds, looking like he was born for dirty work.
For Denver, DaRon Holmes II led with 15, showing soft hands and hard elbows.
But the ink dried the moment Bouyea whispered his name into the desert air.
MAVS 87, LAKERS 85 — The Flagg Isn't Waving Yet
The arena was thick with curiosity.
Eyes weren’t on the court—they were on Cooper Flagg.
The boy wonder from Duke.
The white ghost with a wingspan and a highlight reel stitched to his back.
And he didn’t quite show up.
Ten points.
Six boards.
Three steals.
One block.
And a post-game quote like a funeral procession:
“Worst game of my life.”
But maybe that’s the story.
The humility of the first punch.
The learning curve of greatness.
He showed flashes—one help-side block that felt like a lightning strike, and a no-look assist that dripped of stardust.
But the Mavs survived because of Ryan Nembhard (21 points, 3 rebounds, 3 assists)
and Miles Kelly, who dropped 17 and hit shots like he had something to forget.
Bronny James gave the Lakers 8 points and 4 fouls in 21 minutes.
No fireworks, no collapse.
Just noise.
PACERS 116, CAVS 115 — The Forgotten Fireworks
You want beauty? Watch Indiana run offense.
RayJ Dennis and Quenton Jackson played like men with knives in their socks.
Dennis tallied 24, Jackson 26, and they danced around the Cavs like jazz musicians mid-solo.
Nae’Qwan Tomlin led Cleveland with 28, the highest total of the night.
He looked like a man trying to buy a one-way ticket to a guaranteed contract.
This game had 13 lead changes, 7 ties, and a final minute that felt like church and a fistfight all at once.
Indiana shot 60% from the field in the second half.
Cleveland hit 17 threes and still lost.
Basketball like this doesn’t make the SportsCenter lead.
But it burns in the veins.
TIMBERWOLVES 98, PELICANS 91 — The Wolves Don’t Howl, They Wait
Leonard Miller and Terrence Shannon Jr. scored 20 apiece
and made it look like breathing.
Minnesota’s roster isn’t flashy.
It’s full of grinders, pivot feet, pump fakes, hard fouls.
They bullied the glass (43 rebounds),
played with surgical patience.
The Pelicans?
Lots of promise, not enough punch.
Jordan Miller had 17 but faded when it mattered.
They led by 7 in the second quarter and never touched the lead again.
Vegas is about runs.
Minnesota ran away.
KINGS 84, MAGIC 81 — The Basement Game
Maxime Raynaud and Nique Clifford.
Two names you didn’t Google before.
Now you might.
The Kings fought with elbows.
They didn’t shoot well (42% FG, 28% from three),
but they made stops, and Clifford finished with 14 points and 9 rebounds.
Orlando got 17 from Au’Diese Toney and a dose of late-game regret.
NETS 81, THUNDER 90 — Rookie Baptisms and Veteran Bruises
Brooklyn’s rookie quartet of Yves Missi, Pelle Larsson, Kok Yat, and Tristan da Silva
are a walking experiment.
They played raw, full of nerves and instincts.
Thunder took advantage, led by Drew Timme’s grown-man game: 22 points, 9 rebounds, 8-for-11 from the field.
Brooklyn’s defense cracked in the fourth.
They were outscored 26–17 and left wondering what just hit them.
BONUS BOX SCORES FROM EARLY GAMES
Lakers 89, Spurs 88 (OT) — LA’s other squad barely escapes.
76ers 91, Grizzlies 90 — Redemption for Philly after the massacre.
Jazz 86, Thunder 82 — Micah Peavy went 6-for-8 off the bench.
Final Thoughts from the Bottom of the Glass
Summer League isn’t real—
but it feels realer than half the season.
You see the dreams still unwrinkled.
You hear the coaches screaming as if anyone’s listening.
You taste the blood under the lights.
These aren’t stars.
Not yet.
They’re poems in revision.
Some won’t make it.
Some will live on as trivia.
But for one night in July,
they put their names on the hardwood and prayed someone read them out loud.
Read more dispatches from the edge
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