Coach Lan continued speaking to Shan He. "So in the second quarter, you need to save your energy. Don't fall into their trap again, and don't try to take on your man one-on-one every time."
"Of course, we still need you to take those one-on-ones. But since you're burning through too much energy, I suggest you save it for key possessions and the deciding moments in the fourth quarter."
Shan He kept wiping away sweat with a towel, saying nothing.
His hair was soaked through, strands clinging to his forehead and face. Sweat kept beading on his skin; no sooner had he wiped it away than it appeared again.
He was like a spring, producing fresh sweat no matter how many times he wiped it off.
When the coach finally finished, Shan He was silent for a moment. Then he looked up at him, as if he had made up his mind, and said solemnly:
"Coach, if I can't last until the fourth quarter, then let's blow them away in the first three!"
Coach Lan couldn't help but pause when he heard Shan He's words.
They sounded a little familiar.
That was right—Wang Yi had said the same thing when he was struggling with stamina.
But Wang Yi was Wang Yi. He had the right to say something like that.
Shan He was only a high school student. At most, he was one of the best players among high schoolers, yet he was saying the same thing.
It seemed a little arrogant.
But from his expression and demeanor, he looked completely serious, without a trace of arrogance.
And considering his ability, he really could pull it off.
At that, Coach Lan smacked the folding fan in his left hand against his right palm and made up his mind too. "Then