Chapter 54: Seisu vs. Ryounan (Part 3)

The game began.

The jump ball was won by Number 95 from Qingshui No. 1 High School, while the team from Lingnan had casually sent someone to contest it, without any intention of actually fighting for possession. Perhaps they wanted the inbound rights for the second and third quarters, or maybe they simply didn’t regard Qingshui No. 1 as a threat.

Lin Nan brought the ball forward to attack. Coach Gorilla glanced at the opposing five tall players, all stationed in a zone defense, and was not surprised in the least. With their height, man-to-man defense wasn’t an option; only a zone could truly leverage their physical advantage. This made it nearly impossible for Qingshui No. 1 to break through.

Lin Nan understood this perfectly. As he dribbled to the three-point line and saw the defenders hadn’t pressed up fully, he decisively took a three-point shot, swift and clean. With a crisp swish, the ball sliced through the net.

A gasp rippled through the audience. Those who understood the game leaned over to their friends and remarked, “That kid’s got confidence! Shooting right off the bat.”

Coach Gorilla, seated at the sidelines, smiled. Lin Nan was indeed a natural basketball player, unfazed by the big stage; as soon as the game started and he had the ball in his hands, he showed no sign of hesitation.

Yes, confidence was one of Lin Nan’s greatest strengths. His father had once told him: Confidence comes from ability. There are no excuses for timidity on the court—the only reason is that you’re not strong enough. If you don’t believe in your own talent, how could you ever become a champion?

Lin Nan believed in his father’s teachings, and he believed in the persistence he’d shown off the court.

The announcer hadn’t expected Lin Nan to be so bold, opening with a three-pointer, and praised him: “It seems Player Number 2, Lin Nan, has a reliable three-point shot!”

Coach Gorilla immediately caught the hidden implication in the comment. Sure enough, the Lingnan team imitated Lin Nan, attempting a three-pointer to even the score, but failed to sink it. When Lin Nan got the ball again, Lingnan’s zone defense expanded outward, so that when he tried another three-pointer, they could step up to contest his shot.

Such blatant favoritism! Was the announcer from Lingnan High School? Coach Gorilla wanted to ask.

Indeed, the announcer on site was Lu Ming, a Lingnan High School graduate. He had graduated from college a few years ago and was now working at the television station. When he learned that his alma mater was participating in a basketball tournament, he immediately registered to commentate on the event, given his basketball experience and resume listing Lingnan High School and his job at the TV station. He was inevitably chosen as the commentator for the game.

As a former Lingnan student, Lu Ming naturally took his alma mater’s side. Yet this Lin Nan seemed genuinely skilled—the ranking list must have real merit.

Still, he wasn’t worried that Lingnan High School would lose. He knew well that basketball was ultimately a team sport.

As he expected, Qingshui No. 1’s offense soon became bogged down. Lin Nan hadn’t felt it with the first shot, but with direct contact now, he sensed the pressure from Lingnan’s defense.

First, each opponent’s wingspan was long. Several times, Lin Nan nearly lost the ball, misjudging the reach of their defenders. Then, their crab steps were adept and their balance unshaken, showing they all trained diligently. Finally, their height was overwhelming—the shortest was seven or eight centimeters taller than him. Lin Nan needed ample space to jump and shoot, otherwise his shot would easily be blocked.

Therefore, his teammates gave their all to set screens and assist, helping him move the ball and ultimately letting him attack.

First, Lin Nan started with a three-pointer and was feeling hot. Second, their average shooting percentage was lower than his, and even now, their only options were outside shots or three-pointers; there was no room in the paint. That made their accuracy even lower, their confidence even shakier. They all knew that, given their abilities, now was not the time to step forward, though they wished they could.

Fortunately, Lin Nan did not let them down, maintaining an exceptionally high shooting percentage.

On the surface, it seemed no one from Lingnan High School could restrain Lin Nan, as if he was dominating the game. But Coach Gorilla knew that no matter how good Lin Nan’s stamina was, running plays and jumping for quick shots would exhaust even the toughest player.

In truth, before Lin Nan reached his limit, Screws, Watermelon, and Number 95 were already worn out. Watermelon chased up and down the court; though he seldom touched the ball, his short legs at 173 centimeters meant he ran far more than those towering athletes. In the NBA, a sprint from end to end is just a few strides; with short legs, it might be ten or twenty steps. This is why amateur basketball players usually play half-court, unable to endure full-court games.

Screws and Number 95 fought for position under the basket. Though they rarely handled the ball, their energy was heavily depleted. Without bulk, they had to force their way into position, or at least make it difficult for their opponents to jump comfortably for rebounds.

That’s why basketball is a team sport. Sometimes those who don’t touch the ball, silently contributing behind the scenes, are even more exhausted than those in the limelight.

Lin Nan understood this, which is why he strove to score on every attack.

At the end of the first quarter, Qingshui No. 1 was still ahead by eight points.

Yet Lu Ming explained to the audience: “The players from Qingshui No. 1 still need to work on their stamina!”

The crowd noticed that the Qingshui team was mostly gasping for air, sweat streaming down their foreheads. Meanwhile, Lingnan High School’s players appeared energetic, as if they’d only just warmed up.

But Lin Nan was truly exceptional; he carried the offense single-handedly. Though he was breathing heavily now, he was still in much better shape than his teammates.

Coach Gorilla could only sigh. The opponents had received systematic, scientific training since freshman year, even middle school, while his team had taken a wild, unorthodox path. It was like how professional basketball players look down on streetballers: one trains daily as a career, the other plays occasionally for fun. Though some professionals don’t perform well, and some streetballers make a name for themselves, overall, professionals remain superior.

Lin Nan, however, was an exception. Thanks to his father’s guidance, the miraculous herbal baths, and his own year-long persistence, he could now perform at this level.

Screws now understood: basketball was never something achieved in a short time. He had thought that a month of rigorous training would make a difference, only to realize the gap with the opposition once he was on the court.

He saw that the greatest difference was not height, but stamina, fundamentals, shooting, defense—every aspect. This wasn’t achieved overnight, but was the result of long-term training.

Zhu Bo also felt his weakness. The strength he’d once prided himself on was, in contact with his opponents, barely equal. Crucially, he was the weaker half.

Number 95 was even worse; after just one quarter, he already felt a mild ache in his shoulder from earlier collisions. His body was simply too thin—long, but lacking substance.

But what could they do now? The game had begun. Could they pause time, train for three to five years, then resume the match?

Lin Nan had always had this awareness since first picking up a basketball. He didn’t want to experience the helplessness of awaiting inevitable defeat, so he had always held himself to strict standards.

Now Lin Nan sensed that defeat might come today, but until the final moment, he would never give up. Nor would he ever blame his teammates, for his father had told him: Never blame your teammates on the court. Besides, Lin Nan knew they had already given their all.

...

The second quarter began.

Lingnan High School inbounded, and Luo Zhan took the ball forward. As captain of the Lingnan basketball team, Luo Zhan had thought the Lin Nan from the rankings was all show—perhaps decent, but in a small place like QS County, he had no real competition.

Yet, after the first quarter, he fully acknowledged Lin Nan’s ability. Except for being a bit short, Lin Nan had excellent stamina, shooting, jumping, physique, and competitive state. His eighth-place ranking was well-deserved. Perhaps height wasn’t even a disadvantage; Luo Zhan sensed Lin Nan had the flair of Iverson, with speed perfectly suited to his stature.

But Luo Zhan knew that wasn’t enough. None of Lin Nan’s teammates were notable, except perhaps Number 95, who had room to grow after gaining weight. The others were nothing to worry about.

Basketball is a team sport. Lin Nan was strong, but not strong enough to carry a team to victory single-handedly.

Luo Zhan calmly moved the ball within the team, each player actively running, setting screens. When a spot opened up near the three-point line, the ball was quickly passed to that player. In the position they had drilled countless times, they jumped and shot cleanly.

The Qingshui defenders, facing opponents eight centimeters, even more, taller than themselves, could barely contest the shots.

Pure, unvarnished height advantage.

As captain, Luo Zhan naturally exploited his team’s strengths, attacking the opponent’s weaknesses. Victory was inevitable.

Soon, the score was reversed.

When Lin Nan attacked, two defenders immediately double-teamed him, and when he passed to a teammate, the shot missed.

With the ebb and flow, the rhythm of the game completely shifted to Lingnan High School.

Qingshui’s players were mostly just running back and forth, the last spark of fighting spirit in their eyes flickering out.

Lin Nan saw his team’s morale sinking and knew he had to do something.

Standing near the three-point line, dribbling steadily, gazing at the basket ahead, Lin Nan knew what he had to do...