What are you looking for?
Ej: Medical degree, admissions, grants...
You know, I've been around the game long enough to hear it a thousand times: "I just don't have the natural talent." It's the ultimate cop-out, the permission slip to stay mediocre. But let me tell you something I learned watching pros and coaching kids—the court isn't ruled by talent alone. It's dominated by hustle, by a mindset that turns effort into instinct. I was reminded of this recently, reading about Rondae Hollis-Jefferson's concern for an opponent. He said, "I don't know what happened to Justin but my prayers and everything for him... I don't wish that on no one." That right there, that genuine respect for the battle and the competitor, even amidst the fight? That's part of the mindset we're talking about. It's not about being the meanest; it's about being the most prepared, the most relentless, and yes, the most respectful of the grind. Because injuries happen, luck fades, but your hustle? That's a choice. So, forget the god-given vertical. Let's build a mentality you can actually control. Here are seven drills I swear by, not to make you flashy, but to make you undeniable.
First, the "Five Possession War." This isn't your typical scrimmage. You pick a teammate, someone who gets under your skin, and you play one-on-one, full court, for just five possessions. But here's the kicker: you start every single one on defense, down by one point. Your only goal is to get five consecutive stops. No scoring for you. Just stops. The psychological weight is immense. It trains you to find energy when you're metaphorically behind, to value defense as the source of your offense. I've seen players' entire demeanor change after two weeks of this; they stop waiting for the game to come to them. They go take it. Next, the "Loose Ball Gauntlet." Roll three balls onto the court randomly. On the whistle, you sprint, dive, and secure all three, one after another, against a passive defender who just tries to tip them away. It's about 12 seconds of pure, unglamorous chaos. We track it, and the best guys in our gym average under 11.5 seconds. It ingrains that the floor is yours, every inch of it. This drill alone probably wins you two extra possessions a game, and in a close one, that's everything.
Then there's the "Echo Box-Out." Position four dummies or bags in the paint. Have a coach or partner shoot, intentionally missing. Your job is to make contact with every single dummy—bang, bang, bang, bang—before then securing the rebound. It sounds simple, but it teaches you to seek contact proactively, not reactively. Most players box out the one guy near them. This drill programs you to clear the whole area. It's tiring, it's grunt work, but it makes you a nightmare on the glass. My personal favorite, though, is the "Communication Cascade." You run a basic defensive shell drill, but no one is allowed to talk except for the player who is currently the "help" defender. That player must direct everyone—point to cutters, call screens, yell "shot!" on a close-out. It rotates every possession. This forces quiet players to lead and shows everyone how vital constant, vocal communication is. A study I read once, I think it was from a Big 10 program, claimed teams with superior verbal defense force about 18% more turnovers. I believe it. The court feels smaller when everyone's talking.
We can't ignore conditioning, but mindless running is a waste. I prefer the "Suicide Sprint-and-Hold." You sprint to the first line and back, then immediately get into a low defensive stance and hold it for 30 seconds. Then sprint to the second line and back, and hold a close-out stance for 30 seconds. You repeat this through all four lines. It simulates the brutal stop-and-start of real gameplay, where you recover on defense after a full sprint. Your legs burn, but you learn to focus through it. For skill, I love the "Wrong-Hand Finishing Series." Take 50 shots around the rim using only your off hand, but with a constraint: you must take off from the wrong foot. Right hand, left foot. Left hand, right foot. It's awkward, it's ugly, and you'll miss a ton at first. But it builds incredible body control and finishes through contact when the perfect gather step isn't there. In traffic, that's often the difference between a blocked shot and an and-one.
Finally, the "Film Session Accountability." This isn't a physical drill, but it's the most important one. Watch a quarter of your last game. For every possession, you must write down one thing you did correctly from a hustle standpoint—a hard cut, a screen set, a deflection attempt—and one thing you failed to do. Not a mistake, but a failure to act. Did you stand and watch? Did you fail to crash? This builds self-awareness. Talent often plays on instinct. Hustle plays on habit, and habits are built through honest review. I'm biased, but I think this mental drill contributes to maybe 30% of the overall growth.
Look, basketball will always have its prodigies. But the game has a special place for the relentless. It's the player who, like Hollis-Jefferson implied, respects the competition enough to never take a play off, who understands that the opponent's misfortune is never an opportunity you wish for, but your own preparedness always is. These drills won't give you a 40-inch vertical. What they will give you is a identity. They'll make you the player no one wants to box out, the defender who never stops talking, the teammate who finds energy in the grind. You unlock that hustle mindset not by wishing for it, but by drilling it into your bones, one rep, one dive, one vocal command at a time. The court rewards that. Every single time.