Malik Williams was not about to be outworked.
He had just pulled down a tough defensive rebound and now held the ball on the other end of the floor, back to the basket and pressed up against a Miami defender. Williams pivoted his right foot away from the hoop and let a shot fly from just inside the 3-point line. It was good, his ninth consecutive point in what would eventually amount to a career-high 19 in Louisville's win over Miami.
The sophomore forward stomped his right foot and flexed triumphantly, his biceps framing the red "No. 5" stitched on his uniform.
Louisville basketball fans know Williams by his enthusiastic celebrations and by the number he wears across his chest.
To Williams, it will always be Peytin Chamble's number.
No. 5 represents Williams' ties to his hometown and the unique friendship that blossomed there. It represents how tragedy, if you let it, can act as a grounding device rather than a shackle.
It represents his promise to remember, to play on in honor of a girl who didn't get that chance.
Williams was at basketball practice when his world splintered.
A brisk Tuesday afternoon in November of 2016, a few weeks before the first game of his senior season at Snider High in Fort Wayne, Indiana.
Chamble and the Snider girls basketball team were due to play their fifth game of the season that evening, with Chamble running point for the Panthers.
Williams and his teammates were running sprints in practice when one of the players, returning from having an X-ray, came into the gym with horrible news.
Peytin Chamble, 17, had been killed in a car accident just 3 miles from the school.
"That really just dropped my heart," Williams said. "I was just lost. I didn't want to believe it."
As word spread, grief and sorrow took hold.
At first glance theirs was an odd couple of a friendship; Chamble, the 5-foot-5 ball of energy who was rarely caught without a smile on her face, and Williams, the reserved beanpole Chamble jokingly nicknamed "Tree" for his height.
Williams took the day after Chamble's death off from school. When he returned, his day-to-day routine felt empty. No longer did he see Chamble every day in the hallways, joke around with her during intern period. No longer did they compete in 3-point shooting contests in between girls and boys basketball practices.
Williams and Chamble didn't become close friends until high school, but Rod Chamble, Peytin's father, has known Williams since he was in seventh grade.
Williams, he said, was an intelligent and emotional kid who was thoughtful in everything he did. Peytin was the life of the party, ambitious and equally compassionate.
"She was that friend a lot of kids kind of leaned on," Rod Chamble said. “When everyone else was talking negative, she was always positive.”
Peytin was that friend for Williams.
"I honestly believe that I could talk to her about everything and not have to worry about it and she could talk to me, too," Williams said. "She was definitely one of those girls who everybody was cool with. ... Me and her were both goofy but she was a little more focused than I was, which was good."
Within a week of the car accident, he announced that he was going to change his jersey number from No. 34 to No. 5, in honor of Peytin.
"That was such a special thing and really just shows a reflection of his relationship with her," Rod Chamble said. "That was his way of taking her to school with him. It shakes me up just talking about it."
"I just wanted to leave a little legacy," Williams said. "I feel like she fought really hard, was a really focused and determined girl. I feel like wearing her number, she can play through me and live through me."
