I’ll never forget watching Clint Escamis walk right up to that Cebuano rookie just before he stepped to the free-throw line. The game was on the line, the crowd was roaring, and Escamis—calm as you please—strolled over and said a few quiet words. Trying to rattle the 6-foot-1 guard. Trying to get inside his head. And you know what? It worked. The rookie missed both shots. That moment, right there, is a perfect example of what separates good players from true scoring machines. It’s not just about having a sweet jump shot or a quick first step. It’s about mentality. It’s about preparation. It’s about embracing pressure, not crumbling under it. I’ve spent years studying the game, talking to coaches, and even working with players on mental conditioning, and I can tell you this with certainty: becoming a consistent scorer is as much about psychology as it is about physical skill.
Let’s break it down. First, you need a reliable scoring move. For me, it was always the mid-range pull-up. I practiced it for hours, thousands of repetitions until my muscles ached. We’re talking about 500 to 700 shots a day, just on that one move. You have to have something you can go to when the defense is tight, when the clock is winding down. But here’s the thing a lot of young players miss: you also need a counter. If they take away your pull-up, what’s next? A floater? A step-back? You need at least two, maybe three go-to moves that you can execute without thinking. I always tell players to watch footage of Kobe Bryant or Kevin Durant. Notice how they never seem rushed. They have a plan for every defensive look. That’s not accidental; it’s the result of obsessive film study and on-court experimentation. You need to know your tendencies, but more importantly, you need to know how defenses will try to stop you. That Cebuano rookie probably practiced free throws endlessly, but did he practice them with someone whispering in his ear? Did he simulate that pressure? Probably not. And that’s where he, and so many others, come up short.
Now, let’s talk about the mental game, because that’s where scoring machines are truly forged. What Clint Escamis did in that game was a classic psychological tactic. It’s gamesmanship. It’s legal, it’s part of competition, and if you want to be a scorer, you have to be ready for it. I’ve been on both sides of that exchange. I’ve been the one trying to get under an opponent’s skin, and I’ve been the one having my own focus tested. The best scorers develop what I call ‘tunnel vision.’ They learn to block out the noise—the trash talk, the yelling crowd, the importance of the moment—and focus solely on the process. For a free throw, that means focusing on your routine: the dribbles, the deep breath, the sight of the rim. Everything else fades away. This isn’t just a feel-good idea; it’s a trainable skill. Sports psychologists work with athletes on visualization and mindfulness techniques for exactly this reason. I personally spent 15 minutes before every game visualizing myself making shots from every spot on the floor. I’d feel the ball leave my fingertips, see it swish through the net. When you’ve mentally made a shot a hundred times, physically making it in a game feels like a formality.
But scoring isn’t a solo act. You have to be a smart player, and that means understanding how to use your teammates. A scoring machine knows how to move without the ball. They understand spacing, how to use screens, and how to create passing lanes. I was always a fan of the old Spurs motion offense. The way Tim Duncan and Manu Ginóbili played wasn’t flashy, but it was brutally efficient. They created easy baskets through intelligence and teamwork. You can’t just demand the ball and try to iso every time. Defenses are too good for that. You have to let the game come to you. Sometimes, the highest-percentage play is to make the extra pass, knowing it will come back to you in an even better spot later in the possession. I estimate that about 40% of a great scorer’s points come from off-ball movement—backdoor cuts, relocating for open threes, crashing the offensive glass. It’s the unglamorous work that makes the spectacular moments possible.
Finally, let’s address conditioning. You can have all the skill in the world, but if you’re gassed in the fourth quarter, your shooting form will break down. Your legs are the foundation of your shot. When you’re tired, your shot becomes flat and short. I made it a point to be in the best shape on the court. My conditioning drills were often more demanding than the actual games. We’re talking about full-court suicides with a 20-second rest, repeated ten times. It was hell, but it meant that in the final two minutes of a close game, when my defender was sucking wind, I still had the legs to elevate and knock down a game-winner. Your body is your instrument. You have to treat it like a professional. That means proper nutrition—I was religious about my protein intake and hydration—and dedicated strength training, particularly for your core and legs. A strong core stabilizes your entire body on those contested finishes at the rim.
So, how do you unlock your potential and become a scoring machine? It’s a mosaic. It’s the thousands of shots you take alone in the gym. It’s the mental fortitude you build to withstand pressure, just like that rookie will have to learn to do after his encounter with Escamis. It’s the basketball IQ you develop by watching film and understanding the nuances of the game. And it’s the physical conditioning that allows you to perform when it matters most. It’s not a single secret; it’s a commitment to excellence in every facet of your game. Start today. Find your go-to move, practice it under simulated pressure, condition your mind and body, and play with intelligence. Before you know it, you won’t just be a player; you’ll be a scorer. You’ll be the one others are trying to rattle, not the one being rattled.
