Wang Yi continued speaking to Wang Liang:
"Basketball isn't just dunks, game-winners, flowers, and applause on the court, like you imagine. Those things make up only a small part of it. Behind them is the dull, monotonous training people never see, day and night. Sometimes you might have to practice a single shot thousands or even tens of thousands of times. You might have to practice the same defensive slide thousands of times, too. Are you ready for all that?"
Wang Liang nodded firmly again. "Yes, Brother Yi. I know. I've been ready for a long time."
Wang Yi said, "All right. Here's what I need to tell you: based on that simple fitness test, your talent is pretty average. You're better than an ordinary person, but for a professional player, your talent is quite ordinary. Of course, you're only fifteen, so your talent might still improve. But even if it does, it won't improve by much. If you still want to play professional basketball under those circumstances, you'll have to give it everything you've got!"
"If other people practice a thousand times, you'll have to practice two or three thousand times. If they practice five hours a day, you'll have to practice seven or eight. And it's not as simple as just working hard. If you practice too much, you could even wear yourself out and ruin your body. So while you practice more, you'll also need to train scientifically, sensibly, and according to a plan."
"In short, you have to be mentally prepared to suffer twice, three times, or even more than others."
Wang Liang gritted his teeth, clearly resolved. "Brother Yi, I'm ready!"
Wang Yi knew that, in truth, he still wasn't ready.
No matter how thoroughly you imagined the difficulties before doing something, or how hard