Title: From Small Gyms to Big Lights: The Rivalry of Malik Monk & Austin Reaves
It all started in a small gym in Arkansas.
Back in 2015, Malik Monk, a five-star recruit with a lightning-quick first step and a jumper smoother than silk, was already a local legend. He played for Bentonville High School, where fans packed the stands to see his high-flying dunks and Steph-like range.
On a chilly January night, his squad faced Cedar Ridge High School—a smaller school with a lanky, scrappy guard named Austin Reaves. Nobody expected much from the blonde-haired junior. Quiet. Under-recruited. But from the opening tip, it was clear he wasn’t backing down.
Reaves dropped 38 points, hitting floaters, contested threes, and even stealing the ball from Monk in transition—twice. Monk still got his 40, and Bentonville won, but Reaves left the court with something more: Monk’s attention.
The two didn’t speak that night, but something had started. A rivalry.
Fast forward to college.
Monk was dazzling at Kentucky, lighting up the scoreboard and earning national headlines. Reaves, meanwhile, began at Wichita State before transferring to Oklahoma, reshaping his body, sharpening his game, and slowly rising up NBA draft boards.
They didn’t play each other in college, but they followed each other. Reaves watched Monk get drafted in the first round. Monk scoffed when he heard Reaves had gone undrafted. But then came the twist:
They both ended up in Los Angeles.
2021: Lakers Training Camp.
Austin Reaves, now a two-way contract rookie, walked into the Lakers facility and locked eyes with Monk—now a bench spark plug trying to revive his NBA career.
It was subtle at first: Monk sizing him up, Reaves always guarding him hard in scrimmage, neither willing to give ground. Practice was tense. One day, Reaves blocked Monk at the rim and whispered, “Same court now.”
By midseason, fans were loving their competitive energy. On the surface, they were teammates. But to those paying close attention, every possession between them had an edge. Who got the bench minutes. Who closed games. Who LeBron trusted more.
In practice, trash talk flew. Reaves hit a step-back three and barked, “Undrafted, huh?” Monk responded with a windmill in transition: “Lottery talent. Remember that.”
The Lakers eventually let Monk walk in free agency. He joined Sacramento, found his rhythm, and dropped 27 points the first time he faced L.A. after leaving. Reaves, now a rising star himself, matched him bucket for bucket—and flexed at halfcourt.
They didn’t shake hands after the game.
2025 Western Conference Finals.
Kings vs. Lakers. Game 7.
Reaves and Monk each had 20+ points by the third quarter. The game was tied. Monk hit a transition three and stared Reaves down. Reaves responded with an and-one floater. The rivalry was no longer personal—it was national.
The series went to double overtime. Monk missed a game-winning shot over Reaves. Lakers advanced.
In the handshake line, they finally paused.
Monk: “Guess I made you better.”
Reaves: “Nah. I’ve always been this.”
They smirked.
Rivals from high school gyms to NBA playoffs. Not out of hate—out of mutual fire.
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