"Do you believe in God?" Zhang Yu asked. He got up and left, leaving Curry alone with his coffee. Zhang Yu let out a long sigh, feeling that the grand ambition he'd declared was doomed to die.
"Stop dreaming. Unless the Warriors' owner has lost his mind, he'd never hire a man in his twenties as the team's head coach. Do you think Chris Cohan is an idiot?" Stevens twisted the knife.
"Uh... all right." Zhang Yu looked a little dejected.
"Coach, I'm one of God's most devout believers," Curry said solemnly.
Ben Sladon panicked and hurried over. Besides, his predecessor's dream had been to coach an NBA team. If he could coach the Warriors and keep coaching Curry...
Curry listened attentively.
"There's no God in the East. We call the divine 'Heaven.' Heaven led me to you. I don't know whether this is a dream, but meeting you at all is a miracle. Ten years from now, when we look back, we'll understand how unbelievable it all was. Stephen, trust me as you trust yourself. I promise we'll make history." Zhang Yu's voice was low and powerful.
After he finished, the two of them worked together on Curry's tactics for the coming season.
The next day, Zhang Yu dug out footage of Curry's high school games and handed it to Stevens.
"Brad, do you think I have a chance of becoming an NBA head coach?" Zhang Yu sounded troubled.
Stevens watched him thoughtfully from the sidelines but said nothing, and continued directing the players' practice.
"Sorry, Coach. I messed up my positioning..." AJ Graves looked worried.
Zhang Yu smiled.
He'd finally realized that he couldn't keep his composure around Curry. A restless excitement had been building inside him. He had to say these things. He couldn't bear to see Curry doubt himself.
Then inspiration struck. He stared straight at Stevens and said, word by word, "You know, that was your fifty-seventh time zoning out in half a month. Is something on your mind?"
Stevens asked.
"Huh? Did you need something?" Zhang Yu, who had been daydreaming, came back to himself and looked at Stevens.
Curry stared at Zhang Yu. He still thought he couldn't reach that kind of height, but Zhang Yu's sincerity and faith in him moved him deeply.
Who else could get Curry to do whatever he said? Well, that'd be me!
Looking at the roster in his hands, Zhang Yu was glad they'd recruited Curry. Otherwise, he wouldn't have had the slightest confidence in leading the team to the Sweet Sixteen.
"Of course not. But changing your form will make you play better."
"Thanks, Coach." Curry grinned happily, then explained, "I spend all my free time practicing. That's why I don't have any spending money. A lot of my classmates have their own cars, but my mom won't let me drive, and she only gives me a little pocket money each month."
In the endless darkness, a ray of light had finally appeared before him. No matter how faint and illusory it was, he had to hold on to it.
"Great. In that case, I have a few suggestions for you."
"Of course you do. You're the youngest head coach in the NCAA right now. In twenty years, you'll have a good chance of making it to the NBA."
"Ow!" Zhang Yu cried out and crouched down, covering his nose with both hands. Pain stung the tip of his nose, and tears streamed uncontrollably down his face.
"Of course you do. You're the youngest head coach in the NCAA right now. In twenty years, you'll have a good chance of making it to the NBA," Curry said earnestly.
"Uh... all right." Zhang Yu looked a little dejected.
"Coach, I believe in you." Curry nodded firmly.
"Uh... all right." Zhang Yu looked a little dejected.
"But I want to become an NBA head coach in three years... no, within five. Ideally, I'd like to coach the Warriors. What do you think the chances are?" Zhang Yu pressed.
Zhang Yu froze, then said awkwardly:
Zhang Yu smiled:
Curry stared at Zhang Yu. He still thought he couldn't reach that kind of height, but Zhang Yu's sincerity and faith in him moved him deeply.
Fortunately, the Bulldogs didn't have any games to play yet. Stevens and the coaching staff were handling the actual training, so Zhang Yu only had to watch the players from the sidelines and occasionally clap and cheer, making his presence as head coach felt. Otherwise, he might have been found out.
The players crowded around, all asking after their head coach.
"I mean, it's not even dark yet. Why are you already dreaming?" Stevens said flatly.
"Huh? Did you need something?" Zhang Yu, who had been daydreaming, came back to himself and looked at Stevens.
"Of course you do. You're the youngest head coach in the NCAA right now. In twenty years, you'll have a good chance of making it to the NBA."
"You just said the Warriors' owner is Chris Cohan?"
"Great. In that case, I have a few suggestions for you."
Stevens watched Zhang Yu thoughtfully from the sidelines but said nothing, and continued directing the players' practice.
That afternoon, after practice, Stevens walked over to Zhang Yu.
He'd finally realized that he couldn't keep his composure around Curry. A restless excitement had been building inside him. He had to say these things. He couldn't bear to see Curry doubt himself.
"I know all this will take a lot of work, but I believe you can stick with it. You're Dell Curry's son. You grew up in NBA arenas. That's your good fortune, but it's also your burden. If you want to step out of your father's shadow, you can't be just a shooter," Zhang Yu said slowly.
"You know, that was your fifty-seventh time zoning out in half a month. Is something on your mind?" Stevens asked.
After meeting Curry, Zhang Yu remembered what he'd said the night before he'd transmigrated. Could it be that making that grand vow was what had sent him back to 2006?
Curry listened attentively.
Zhang Yu let out a long sigh, feeling that the grand ambition he'd declared was doomed to die.
That afternoon, after practice, Stevens walked over to Zhang Yu. "Ronan? Ronan?"
He knew the idea was ridiculous, but if he waited another ten or twenty years before coaching in the NBA, Curry would already be retired. It would be far too late.
"No problem, Coach." Curry agreed to everything.
Zhang Yu continued, "Also, when you get back, I want you to work specifically on your ball handling and passing. You'll be the team's primary ball handler next season, so you'll need to change your habit of relying mostly on off-ball offense. I suggest you watch more footage of Chris Paul and Steve Nash. They're true passing masters. I'm not asking you to make assists as brilliant as theirs, but you need the skills a point guard should have." Zhang Yu said.
"Ow!" Zhang Yu cried out and crouched down, covering his nose with both hands. Pain stung the tip of his nose, and tears streamed uncontrollably down his face.
Zhang Yu smiled:
With Curry joining the team, they also needed to change their style of play. Zhang Yu and the coaching staff revised the team's overall tactics.
The players crowded around, all asking after their head coach.
"I noticed you shoot with a two-motion shot. Your release is already quick, but if you want to play in the NCAA without putting on weight, you'll need an even faster release. I want you to switch to a one-motion shot this summer. That'll make your release as fast as it can possibly be."
"Uh... all right." Zhang Yu looked a little dejected.
"Do you believe in God?" Zhang Yu asked.
Zhang Yu patted him on the shoulder. "Would I be unable to play in the NCAA if I didn't change my shooting form?"
"Of course not. But changing your form will make you play better," Curry asked.
"Of course not. But changing your form will make you play better."
Stevens didn't answer. He just looked up at the sky.
Although the memories he'd inherited from his predecessor were firmly etched in his mind, they still felt like someone else's. When he recalled them, there was always a sense of distance. But after half a month of intensive study, Zhang Yu was gradually mastering those memories and turning them into his own understanding of basketball.
Though it was only practice, Ben Sladon's pass came hard and heavy. It struck Zhang Yu right on the nose, one of the most vulnerable parts of the human body. He crouched on the floor for ages, unable to speak.
Thud!
"In the East, there's no God. We call the divine 'Heaven.' Heaven led me to you. I don't know whether this is a dream, but meeting you at all is a miracle. Ten years from now, when we look back, we'll understand how unbelievable it all was. Stephen, trust me as you trust yourself. I promise we'll make history." Zhang Yu's voice was low and powerful...
"Fine. I'll change it as soon as I get back!"
After meeting Curry, Zhang Yu remembered what he'd said the night before he'd transmigrated. Could it be that making that grand vow was what had sent him back to 2006?
"Ow!" Zhang Yu cried out and crouched down, covering his nose with both hands. Pain stung the tip of his nose, and tears streamed uncontrollably down his face.
"But I want to become an NBA head coach in three years... no, within five. Ideally, I'd like to coach the Warriors. What do you think the chances are?" Zhang Yu pressed.
"Coach, you said I was supposed to buy you coffee!"
Zhang Yu continued, "Also, when you get back, I want you to work specifically on your ball handling and passing. You'll be the team's primary ball handler next season, so you'll need to change your habit of relying mostly on off-ball offense. I suggest you watch more footage of Chris Paul and Steve Nash. They're true passing masters. I'm not asking you to make assists as brilliant as theirs, but you need the skills a point guard should have." Zhang Yu said.
Less than a week later, the Bulldogs' recruiting work was over.
"Is that really how many times?"
"Ow!" Zhang Yu cried out and crouched down, covering his nose with both hands. Pain stung the tip of his nose, and tears streamed uncontrollably down his face.
"Good job. Keep it up!" Stevens called approvingly from the sidelines.
After meeting Curry, Zhang Yu remembered what he'd said the night before he'd transmigrated. Could it be that making that grand vow was what had sent him back to 2006?
Zhang Yu smiled:
The players saw that their coach was all right and relaxed. Ben Sladon and AJ Graves apologized again.
"No problem, Coach." Curry agreed to everything.
Zhang Yu patted him on the shoulder:
By then, he'd have enough confidence to coach the team.
"Do you believe in God?" Zhang Yu asked.
Then inspiration struck. He stared straight at Stevens and said, word by word, "But I want to become an NBA head coach in three years... no, within five. Ideally, I'd like to coach the Warriors. What do you think the chances are?" Zhang Yu pressed.
By then, he'd have enough confidence to coach the team.
Zhang Yu smiled:
The players saw that their coach was all right and relaxed. Ben Sladon and AJ Graves apologized again.
"I know all this will take a lot of work, but I believe you can stick with it. You're Dell Curry's son. You grew up in NBA arenas. That's your good fortune, but it's also your burden. If you want to step out of your father's shadow, you can't be just a shooter," Zhang Yu said slowly.
"Ronan? Ronan?"
"Coach, I understand. I'll devote all my time to practicing."
"You just said the Warriors' owner is Chris Cohan?"
"The sunset really is beautiful today," Zhang Yu said admiringly.
Looking at the roster in his hands, Zhang Yu was glad they'd recruited Curry. Otherwise, he wouldn't have had the slightest confidence in leading the team to the Sweet Sixteen.
Although the memories he'd inherited from his predecessor were firmly etched in his mind, they still felt like someone else's. When he recalled them, there was always a sense of distance. But after half a month of intensive study, Zhang Yu was gradually mastering those memories and turning them into his own understanding of basketball.
Curry felt that every word Zhang Yu said hit home. No one had ever understood him so well—not even his family knew how much he longed to surpass his father.
"Coach, I'll do it!" Curry said, his gaze resolute.
"Stop dreaming. Unless the Warriors' owner has lost his mind, he'd never hire a man in his twenties as the team's head coach. Do you think Chris Cohan is an idiot?" Stevens twisted the knife.
"But I want to become an NBA head coach in three years... no, within five. Ideally, I'd like to coach the Warriors. What do you think the chances are?" Zhang Yu pressed.
"Is that really how many times?"
"Coach, I'll do it!" Curry said, his gaze resolute.
"Stop dreaming. Unless the Warriors' owner has lost his mind, he'd never hire a man in his twenties as the team's head coach. Do you think Chris Cohan is an idiot?" Stevens twisted the knife.
Zhang Yu let out a long sigh, feeling that the grand ambition he'd declared was doomed to die.
"I know all this will take a lot of work, but I believe you can stick with it. You're Dell Curry's son. You grew up in NBA arenas. That's your good fortune, but it's also your burden. If you want to step out of your father's shadow, you can't be just a shooter," Zhang Yu said slowly.
"Ronan? Ronan?"
"Coach, I understand. I'll devote all my time to practicing."
"You just said the Warriors' owner is Chris Cohan?"
"The sunset really is beautiful today," Zhang Yu said admiringly.
Looking at the roster in his hands, Zhang Yu was glad they'd recruited Curry. Otherwise, he wouldn't have had the slightest confidence in leading the team to the Sweet Sixteen.
Curry felt that every word Zhang Yu said hit home. No one had ever understood him so well—not even his family knew how much he longed to surpass his father.
"Coach, I'll do it!" Curry said, his gaze resolute.
"Stop dreaming. Unless the Warriors' owner has lost his mind, he'd never hire a man in his twenties as the team's head coach. Do you think Chris Cohan is an idiot?" Stevens twisted the knife.
"But I want to become an NBA head coach in three years... no, within five. Ideally, I'd like to coach the Warriors. What do you think the chances are?" Zhang Yu pressed.
"Is that really how many times?"
"Coach, I'll do it!" Curry said, his gaze resolute.
"Stop dreaming. Unless the Warriors' owner has lost his mind, he'd never hire a man in his twenties as the team's head coach. Do you think Chris Cohan is an idiot?" Stevens twisted the knife.
Zhang Yu let out a long sigh, feeling that the grand ambition he'd declared was doomed to die.
"Coach, I believe in you." Curry nodded firmly.
"Uh... all right." Zhang Yu looked a little dejected.
"But I want to become an NBA head coach in three years... no, within five. Ideally, I'd like to coach the Warriors. What do you think the chances are?" Zhang Yu pressed.
Zhang Yu froze, then said awkwardly:
Zhang Yu smiled:
Curry stared at Zhang Yu. He still thought he couldn't reach that kind of height, but Zhang Yu's sincerity and faith in him moved him deeply.
Fortunately, the Bulldogs didn't have any games to play yet. Stevens and the coaching staff were handling the actual training, so Zhang Yu only had to watch the players from the sidelines and occasionally clap and cheer, making his presence as head coach felt. Otherwise, he might have been found out.
The players crowded around, all asking after their head coach.
"I mean, it's not even dark yet. Why are you already dreaming?" Stevens said flatly.
"Huh? Did you need something?" Zhang Yu, who had been daydreaming, came back to himself and looked at Stevens.
"Of course you do. You're the youngest head coach in the NCAA right now. In twenty years, you'll have a good chance of making it to the NBA."
"Great. In that case, I have a few suggestions for you."
Stevens watched Zhang Yu thoughtfully from the sidelines but said nothing, and continued directing the players' practice.
That afternoon, after practice, Stevens walked over to Zhang Yu.
He'd finally realized that he couldn't keep his composure around Curry. A restless excitement had been building inside him. He had to say these things. He couldn't bear to see Curry doubt himself.
"In the East, there's no God. We call the divine 'Heaven.' Heaven led me to you. I don't know whether this is a dream, but meeting you at all is a miracle. Ten years from now, when we look back, we'll understand how unbelievable it all was. Stephen, trust me as you trust yourself. I promise we'll make history." Zhang Yu's voice was low and powerful.
"Great. In that case, I have a few suggestions for you."
Stevens watched Zhang Yu thoughtfully from the sidelines but said nothing, and continued directing the players' practice.
"Your pocket money is hard-earned. Keep it for yourself." Zhang Yu let out a long sigh, feeling that the grand ambition he'd declared was doomed to die.
Matthew Graves continued to handle the team's recruiting, but the talented high school players from Indiana had already been snapped up by the major schools. All he could do was sign a few local players with modest reputations to serve as reserves or redshirts.
"I know all this will take a lot of work, but I believe you can stick with it. You're Dell Curry's son. You grew up in NBA arenas. That's your good fortune, but it's also your burden. If you want to step out of your father's shadow, you can't be just a shooter," Zhang Yu said slowly.
"Coach, I believe in you." Curry nodded firmly.
"Coach, thanks," Curry said with a happy smile. He then explained, "I spend all my free time practicing. That's why I don't have any spending money. A lot of my classmates have their own cars, but my mom won't let me drive, and she only gives me a little pocket money each month."
Zhang Yu smiled:
"I mean, it's not even dark yet. Why are you already dreaming?" Stevens said flatly.
Matthew Graves continued to handle the team's recruiting, but the talented high school players from Indiana had already been snapped up by the major schools. All he could do was sign a few local players with modest reputations to serve as reserves or redshirts.
"Do you believe in God?" Zhang Yu asked.
Zhang Yu smiled:
"Do you know, the Warriors' owner is Chris Cohan?"
The players crowded around, all asking after their head coach.
"Great. In that case, I have a few suggestions for you."
Stevens watched Zhang Yu thoughtfully from the sidelines but said nothing, and continued directing the players' practice.
At the same time, Zhang Yu had finally realized that he couldn't keep his composure around Curry. A restless excitement had been building inside him. He had to say these things. He couldn't bear to see Curry doubt himself.
"I know all this will take a lot of work, but I believe you can stick with it. You're Dell Curry's son. You grew up in NBA arenas. That's your good fortune, but it's also your burden. If you want to step out of your father's shadow, you can't be just a shooter," Zhang Yu said slowly.
"Ronan? Ronan?"
"I know all this will take a lot of work, but I believe you can stick with it. You're Dell Curry's son. You grew up in NBA arenas. That's your good fortune, but it's also your burden. If you want to step out of your father's shadow, you can't be just a shooter," Zhang Yu said slowly.
"Do you know, the Warriors' owner is Chris Cohan?" Stevens asked.
After meeting Curry, Zhang Yu remembered what he'd said the night before he'd transmigrated. Could it be that making that grand vow was what had sent him back to 2006?
Curry listened attentively.
Zhang Yu let out a long sigh, feeling that the grand ambition he'd declared was doomed to die.
That afternoon, after practice, Stevens walked over to Zhang Yu. "Ronan? Ronan?"
He knew the idea was ridiculous, but if he waited another ten or twenty years before coaching in the NBA, Curry would already be retired. It would be far too late.
"No problem, Coach," Curry said, agreeing to everything.
Zhang Yu continued, "Also, when you get back, I want you to work specifically on your ball handling and passing. You'll be the team's primary ball handler next season, so you'll need to change your habit of relying mostly on off-ball offense. I suggest you watch more footage of Chris Paul and Steve Nash. They're true passing masters. I'm not asking you to make assists as brilliant as theirs, but you need the skills a point guard should have."
"Ow!" Zhang Yu cried out and crouched down, covering his nose with both hands. Pain stung the tip of his nose, and tears streamed uncontrollably down his face.
Zhang Yu smiled:
With Curry joining the team, they also needed to change their style of play. Zhang Yu and the coaching staff revised the team's overall tactics.
The players crowded around, all asking after their head coach.
"I noticed you shoot with a two-motion shot. Your release is already quick, but if you want to play in the NCAA without putting on weight, you'll need an even faster release. I want you to switch to a one-motion shot this summer. That'll make your release as fast as it can possibly be."
"Uh... all right." Zhang Yu looked a little dejected.
"Do you believe in God?" Zhang Yu asked.
Zhang Yu patted him on the shoulder. "Would I be unable to play in the NCAA if I didn't change my shooting form?" Curry asked.
"Of course not. But changing your form will make you play better."
"Stop dreaming. Unless the Warriors' owner has lost his mind, he'd never hire a man in his twenties as the team's head coach. Do you think Chris Cohan is an idiot?" Stevens twisted the knife.
"Of course not. But changing your form will make you play better."
Stevens didn't answer. He looked up toward the horizon instead.
Although the memories he'd inherited from his predecessor were firmly etched in his mind, they still felt like someone else's. When he recalled them, there was always a sense of distance. But after half a month of intensive study, Zhang Yu was gradually mastering those memories and turning them into his own understanding of basketball.
Though it was only practice, Ben Sladon's pass came hard and heavy. It struck Zhang Yu right on the nose, one of the most vulnerable parts of the human body. He crouched on the floor for ages, unable to speak.
Thud!
"In the East, there's no God. We call the divine 'Heaven.' Heaven led me to you. I don't know whether this is a dream, but meeting you at all is a miracle. Ten years from now, when we look back, we'll understand how unbelievable it all was. Stephen, trust me as you trust yourself. I promise we'll make history." Zhang Yu's voice was low and powerful...
"Fine. I'll change it as soon as I get back!"
After meeting Curry, Zhang Yu remembered what he'd said the night before he'd transmigrated. Could it be that making that grand vow was what had sent him back to 2006?
"Ow!" Zhang Yu cried out and crouched down, covering his nose with both hands. Pain stung the tip of his nose, and tears streamed uncontrollably down his face.
"But I want to become an NBA head coach in three years... no, within five. Ideally, I'd like to coach the Warriors. What do you think the chances are?" Zhang Yu pressed.
"Coach, I said I was supposed to buy you coffee!"
Zhang Yu continued, "Also, when you get back, I want you to work specifically on your ball handling and passing. You'll be the team's primary ball handler next season, so you'll need to change your habit of relying mostly on off-ball offense. I suggest you watch more footage of Chris Paul and Steve Nash. They're true passing masters. I'm not asking you to make assists as brilliant as theirs, but you need the skills a point guard should have."
The Bulldogs' recruiting work was over in less than a week.
"Is that really how many times?"
"Ow!" Zhang Yu cried out and crouched down, covering his nose with both hands. Pain stung the tip of his nose, and tears streamed uncontrollably down his face.
"Good job. Keep it up!" Stevens called approvingly from the sidelines.
After meeting Curry, Zhang Yu remembered what he'd said the night before he'd transmigrated. Could it be that making that grand vow was what had sent him back to 2006?
Zhang Yu smiled:
The players saw that their coach was all right and relaxed. Ben Sladon and AJ Graves apologized again.
"No problem, Coach." Curry agreed to everything.
Zhang Yu patted him on the shoulder:
By then, he'd have enough confidence to coach the team.
"Do you believe in God?" Zhang Yu asked.
Then inspiration struck. He stared straight at Stevens and said, word by word, "But I want to become an NBA head coach in three years... no, within five. Ideally, I'd like to coach the Warriors. What do you think the chances are?" Zhang Yu pressed.
By then, he'd have enough confidence to coach the team.
Zhang Yu smiled:
The players saw that their coach was all right and relaxed. Ben Sladon and AJ Graves apologized again.
"I know all this will take a lot of work, but I believe you can stick with it. You're Dell Curry's son. You grew up in NBA arenas. That's your good fortune, but it's also your burden. If you want to step out of your father's shadow, you can't be just a shooter," Zhang Yu said slowly.
"Ronan? Ronan?"
"Coach, I understand. I'll devote all my time to practicing."
"You just said the Warriors' owner is Chris Cohan?"
"The sunset really is beautiful today," Zhang Yu said admiringly.
Looking at the roster in his hands, Zhang Yu was glad they'd recruited Curry. Otherwise, he wouldn't have had the slightest confidence in leading the team to the Sweet Sixteen.
Although the memories he'd inherited from his predecessor were firmly etched in his mind, they still felt like someone else's. When he recalled them, there was always a sense of distance. But after half a month of intensive study, Zhang Yu was gradually mastering those memories and turning them into his own understanding of basketball.
Curry felt that every word Zhang Yu said hit home. No one had ever understood him so well—not even his family knew how much he longed to surpass his father.
"Coach, I'll do it!" Curry said, his gaze resolute.
"Stop dreaming. Unless the Warriors' owner has lost his mind, he'd never hire a man in his twenties as the team's head coach. Do you think Chris Cohan is an idiot?" Stevens twisted the knife.
"But I want to become an NBA head coach in three years... no, within five. Ideally, I'd like to coach the Warriors. What do you think the chances are?" Zhang Yu pressed.
"Is that really how many times?"
"Coach, I'll do it!" Curry said, his gaze resolute.
"Stop dreaming. Unless the Warriors' owner has lost his mind, he'd never hire a man in his twenties as the team's head coach. Do you think Chris Cohan is an idiot?" Stevens twisted the knife.
Zhang Yu let out a long sigh, feeling that the grand ambition he'd declared was doomed to die.
"Coach, I believe in you." Curry nodded firmly.
"Uh... all right." Zhang Yu looked a little dejected.
"But I want to become an NBA head coach in three years... no, within five. Ideally, I'd like to coach the Warriors. What do you think the chances are?" Zhang Yu pressed.
Zhang Yu froze, then said awkwardly:
Zhang Yu smiled:
Curry stared at Zhang Yu. He still thought he couldn't reach that kind of height, but Zhang Yu's sincerity and faith in him moved him deeply.
Fortunately, the Bulldogs didn't have any games to play yet. Stevens and the coaching staff were handling the actual training, so Zhang Yu only had to watch the players from the sidelines and occasionally clap and cheer, making his presence as head coach felt. Otherwise, he might have been found out.
The players crowded around, all asking after their head coach.
"I mean, it's not even dark yet. Why are you already dreaming?" Stevens said flatly.
"Huh? Did you need something?" Zhang Yu, who had been daydreaming, came back to himself and looked at Stevens.
"Of course you do. You're the youngest head coach in the NCAA right now. In twenty years, you'll have a good chance of making it to the NBA."
"Great. In that case, I have a few suggestions for you."
Stevens watched Zhang Yu thoughtfully from the sidelines but said nothing, and continued directing the players' practice.
That afternoon, after practice, Stevens walked over to Zhang Yu.
He'd finally realized that he couldn't keep his composure around Curry. A restless excitement had been building inside him. He had to say these things. He couldn't bear to see Curry doubt himself.
"I know all this will take a lot of work, but I believe you can stick with it. You're Dell Curry's son. You grew up in NBA arenas. That's your good fortune, but it's also your burden. If you want to step out of your father's shadow, you can't be just a shooter," Zhang Yu said slowly.
"You know, that was your fifty-seventh time zoning out in half a month. Is something on your mind?" Stevens asked.
Curry felt that every word Zhang Yu said hit home. No one had ever understood him so well—not even his family knew how much he longed to surpass his father.
The Bulldogs' starting point guard, Ben Sladon, followed the set play and hurled the ball toward the left side of the court. But AJ Graves, who was supposed to be there to receive it, was still in the paint. The ball sailed out of bounds, where Zhang Yu happened to be standing, staring into space.
Stevens watched Zhang Yu thoughtfully from the sidelines but said nothing, and continued directing the players' practice.
Thud!
Though it was only practice, Ben Sladon's pass came hard and heavy. It struck Zhang Yu right on the nose, one of the most vulnerable parts of the human body. He crouched on the floor for ages, unable to speak.
"I know all this will take a lot of work, but I believe you can stick with it. You're Dell Curry's son. You grew up in NBA arenas. That's your good fortune, but it's also your burden. If you want to step out of your father's shadow, you can't be just a shooter," Zhang Yu said slowly.
"Ronan? Ronan?"
"Coach, I understand. I'll devote all my time to practicing."
"Do you know, the Warriors' owner is Chris Cohan?" Stevens asked.
After meeting Curry, Zhang Yu remembered what he'd said the night before he'd transmigrated. Could it be that making that grand vow was what had sent him back to 2006?
The players crowded around, all asking after their head coach.
"Do you believe in God?" Zhang Yu asked.
Zhang Yu smiled:
Although the memories he'd inherited from his predecessor were firmly etched in his mind, they still felt like someone else's. When he recalled them, there was always a sense of distance. But after half a month of intensive study, Zhang Yu was gradually mastering those memories and turning them into his own understanding of basketball.
Curry felt that every word Zhang Yu said hit home. No one had ever understood him so well—not even his family knew how much he longed to surpass his father.
"Coach, I'll do it!" Curry said, his gaze resolute.
"Stop dreaming. Unless the Warriors' owner has lost his mind, he'd never hire a man in his twenties as the team's head coach. Do you think Chris Cohan is an idiot?" Stevens twisted the knife.
"But I want to become an NBA head coach in three years... no, within five. Ideally, I'd like to coach the Warriors. What do you think the chances are?" Zhang Yu pressed.
"Is that really how many times?"
"Coach, I'll do it!" Curry said, his gaze resolute.
"Stop dreaming. Unless the Warriors' owner has lost his mind, he'd never hire a man in his twenties as the team's head coach. Do you think Chris Cohan is an idiot?" Stevens twisted the knife.
Zhang Yu let out a long sigh, feeling that the grand ambition he'd declared was doomed to die.
"Coach, I believe in you." Curry nodded firmly.
"Uh... all right." Zhang Yu looked a little dejected.
"But I want to become an NBA head coach in three years... no, within five. Ideally, I'd like to coach the Warriors. What do you think the chances are?" Zhang Yu pressed.
Zhang Yu froze, then said awkwardly:
Zhang Yu smiled:
Curry stared at Zhang Yu. He still thought he couldn't reach that kind of height, but Zhang Yu's sincerity and faith in him moved him deeply.
Fortunately, the Bulldogs didn't have any games to play yet. Stevens and the coaching staff were handling the actual training, so Zhang Yu only had to watch the players from the sidelines and occasionally clap and cheer, making his presence as head coach felt. Otherwise, he might have been found out.
The players crowded around, all asking after their head coach.
"I mean, it's not even dark yet. Why are you already dreaming?" Stevens said flatly.
"Huh? Did you need something?" Zhang Yu, who had been daydreaming, came back to himself and looked at Stevens.
"Of course you do. You're the youngest head coach in the NCAA right now. In twenty years, you'll have a good chance of making it to the NBA."
"Great. In that case, I have a few suggestions for you."
Stevens watched Zhang Yu thoughtfully from the sidelines but said nothing, and continued directing the players' practice.
That afternoon, after practice, Stevens walked over to Zhang Yu.
He'd finally realized that he couldn't keep his composure around Curry. A restless excitement had been building inside him. He had to say these things. He couldn't bear to see Curry doubt himself.
"Coach, I believe in you." Curry nodded firmly.
"Coach, I understand. I'll devote all my time to practicing."
"You just said the Warriors' owner is Chris Cohan?"
"The sunset really is beautiful today," Zhang Yu said admiringly.
Looking at the roster in his hands, Zhang Yu was glad they'd recruited Curry. Otherwise, he wouldn't have had the slightest confidence in leading the team to the Sweet Sixteen.
Although the memories he'd inherited from his predecessor were firmly etched in his mind, they still felt like someone else's. When he recalled them, there was always a sense of distance. But after half a month of intensive study, Zhang Yu was gradually mastering those memories and turning them into his own understanding of basketball.
Curry felt that every word Zhang Yu said hit home. No one had ever understood him so well—not even his family knew how much he longed to surpass his father.
"Coach, I'll do it!" Curry said, his gaze resolute.
"Stop dreaming. Unless the Warriors' owner has lost his mind, he'd never hire a man in his twenties as the team's head coach. Do you think Chris Cohan is an idiot?" Stevens twisted the knife.
"But I want to become an NBA head coach in three years... no, within five. Ideally, I'd like to coach the Warriors. What do you think the chances are?" Zhang Yu pressed.
"Is that really how many times?"
"Coach, I'll do it!" Curry said, his gaze resolute.
"Stop dreaming. Unless the Warriors' owner has lost his mind, he'd never hire a man in his twenties as the team's head coach. Do you think Chris Cohan is an idiot?" Stevens twisted the knife.
Zhang Yu let out a long sigh, feeling that the grand ambition he'd declared was doomed to die.
"Your pocket money is hard-earned. Keep it for yourself."
"Of course you do. You're the youngest head coach in the NCAA right now. In twenty years, you'll have a good chance of making it to the NBA."
Curry felt that every word Zhang Yu said hit home. No one had ever understood him so well—not even his family knew how much he longed to surpass his father.
With Curry joining the team, they also needed to change their style of play. Zhang Yu and the coaching staff revised the team's overall tactics.
That afternoon, after practice, Stevens walked over to Zhang Yu. "You know, that was your fifty-seventh time zoning out in half a month. Is something on your mind?" Stevens asked.
The Bulldogs' starting point guard, Ben Sladon, followed the set play and hurled the ball toward the left side of the court. But AJ Graves, who was supposed to be there to receive it, was still in the paint. The ball sailed out of bounds, where Zhang Yu happened to be standing, staring into space.
"Head Coach, should we take you to the hospital? I'll carry you," Julian Becko said quickly, eager to ingratiate himself.
"Don't change your shooting form and I can't play in the NCAA?" Curry asked.
"I noticed you shoot with a two-motion shot. Your release is already quick, but if you want to play in the NCAA without putting on weight, you'll need an even faster release. I want you to switch to a one-motion shot this summer. That'll make your release as fast as it can possibly be."
"Uh... all right." Zhang Yu looked a little dejected.
"Do you believe in God?" Zhang Yu asked.
Zhang Yu patted him on the shoulder. "Would I be unable to play in the NCAA if I didn't change my shooting form?"
"Of course not. But changing your form will make you play better."
"Stop dreaming. Unless the Warriors' owner has lost his mind, he'd never hire a man in his twenties as the team's head coach. Do you think Chris Cohan is an idiot?" Stevens twisted the knife.
"Of course not. But changing your form will make you play better."
Stevens didn't answer. He looked up toward the horizon instead.
Although the memories he'd inherited from his predecessor were firmly etched in his mind, they still felt like someone else's. When he recalled them, there was always a sense of distance. But after half a month of intensive study, Zhang Yu was gradually mastering those memories and turning them into his own understanding of basketball.
Though it was only practice, Ben Sladon's pass came hard and heavy. It struck Zhang Yu right on the nose, one of the most vulnerable parts of the human body. He crouched on the floor for ages, unable to speak.
"I know all this will take a lot of work, but I believe you can stick with it. You're Dell Curry's son. You grew up in NBA arenas. That's your good fortune, but it's also your burden. If you want to step out of your father's shadow, you can't be just a shooter," Zhang Yu said slowly.
Thud!
"In the East, there's no God. We call the divine 'Heaven.' Heaven led me to you. I don't know whether this is a dream, but meeting you at all is a miracle. Ten years from now, when we look back, we'll understand how unbelievable it all was. Stephen, trust me as you trust yourself. I promise we'll make history." Zhang Yu's voice was low and powerful...
"Fine. I'll change it as soon as I get back!"
After meeting Curry, Zhang Yu remembered what he'd said the night before he'd transmigrated. Could it be that making that grand vow was what had sent him back to 2006?
"Ow!" Zhang Yu cried out and crouched down, covering his nose with both hands. Pain stung the tip of his nose, and tears streamed uncontrollably down his face.
"But I want to become an NBA head coach in three years... no, within five. Ideally, I'd like to coach the Warriors. What do you think the chances are?" Zhang Yu pressed.
"Coach, I said I was supposed to buy you coffee!"
Zhang Yu continued, "Also, when you get back, I want you to work specifically on your ball handling and passing. You'll be the team's primary ball handler next season, so you'll need to change your habit of relying mostly on off-ball offense. I suggest you watch more footage of Chris Paul and Steve Nash. They're true passing masters. I'm not asking you to make assists as brilliant as theirs, but you need the skills a point guard should have."
The Bulldogs' recruiting work was over in less than a week.
"Is that really how many times?"
"Ow!" Zhang Yu cried out and crouched down, covering his nose with both hands. Pain stung the tip of his nose, and tears streamed uncontrollably down his face.
"Good job. Keep it up!" Stevens called approvingly from the sidelines.
After meeting Curry, Zhang Yu remembered what he'd said the night before he'd transmigrated. Could it be that making that grand vow was what had sent him back to 2006?
Zhang Yu smiled:
The players saw that their coach was all right and relaxed. Ben Sladon and AJ Graves apologized again.
"No problem, Coach." Curry agreed to everything.
Zhang Yu patted him on the shoulder:
By then, he'd have enough confidence to coach the team.
"Do you believe in God?" Zhang Yu asked.
Then inspiration struck. He stared straight at Stevens and said, word by word, "But I want to become an NBA head coach in three years... no, within five. Ideally, I'd like to coach the Warriors. What do you think the chances are?" Zhang Yu pressed.
By then, he'd have enough confidence to coach the team.
Zhang Yu smiled:
The players saw that their coach was all right and relaxed. Ben Sladon and AJ Graves apologized again.
"I know all this will take a lot of work, but I believe you can stick with it. You're Dell Curry's son. You grew up in NBA arenas. That's your good fortune, but it's also your burden. If you want to step out of your father's shadow, you can't be just a shooter," Zhang Yu said slowly.
"Ronan? Ronan?"
"Coach, I understand. I'll devote all my time to practicing."
"You just said the Warriors' owner is Chris Cohan?"
"The sunset really is beautiful today," Zhang Yu said admiringly.
Looking at the roster in his hands, Zhang Yu was glad they'd recruited Curry. Otherwise, he wouldn't have had the slightest confidence in leading the team to the Sweet Sixteen.
Although the memories he'd inherited from his predecessor were firmly etched in his mind, they still felt like someone else's. When he recalled them, there was always a sense of distance. But after half a month of intensive study, Zhang Yu was gradually mastering those memories and turning them into his own understanding of basketball.
Curry felt that every word Zhang Yu said hit home. No one had ever understood him so well—not even his family knew how much he longed to surpass his father.
"Coach, I'll do it!" Curry said, his gaze resolute.
"Stop dreaming. Unless the Warriors' owner has lost his mind, he'd never hire a man in his twenties as the team's head coach. Do you think Chris Cohan is an idiot?" Stevens twisted the knife.
"But I want to become an NBA head coach in three years... no, within five. Ideally, I'd like to coach the Warriors. What do you think the chances are?" Zhang Yu pressed.
"Is that really how many times?"
"Coach, I'll do it!" Curry said, his gaze resolute.
"Stop dreaming. Unless the Warriors' owner has lost his mind, he'd never hire a man in his twenties as the team's head coach. Do you think Chris Cohan is an idiot?" Stevens twisted the knife.
Zhang Yu let out a long sigh, feeling that the grand ambition he'd declared was doomed to die.
"Coach, I believe in you." Curry nodded firmly.
"Uh... all right." Zhang Yu looked a little dejected.
"But I want to become an NBA head coach in three years... no, within five. Ideally, I'd like to coach the Warriors. What do you think the chances are?" Zhang Yu pressed.
"Coach, I said I was supposed to buy you coffee!"
Zhang Yu continued, "Also, when you get back, I want you to work specifically on your ball handling and passing. You'll be the team's primary ball handler next season, so you'll need to change your habit of relying mostly on off-ball offense. I suggest you watch more footage of Chris Paul and Steve Nash. They're true passing masters. I'm not asking you to make assists as brilliant as theirs, but you need the skills a point guard should have."
The Bulldogs' starting point guard, Ben Sladon, followed the set play and hurled the ball toward the left side of the court. But AJ Graves, who was supposed to be there to receive it, was still in the paint. The ball sailed out of bounds, where Zhang Yu happened to be standing, staring into space.
The Bulldogs' recruiting work was over in less than a week.
"Good job. Keep it up!" Stevens called approvingly from the sidelines.
After meeting Curry, Zhang Yu remembered what he'd said the night before he'd transmigrated. Could it be that making that grand vow was what had sent him back to 2006?
The players saw that their coach was all right and relaxed. Ben Sladon and AJ Graves apologized again.
"No problem, Coach." Curry agreed to everything.
Zhang Yu patted him on the shoulder:
By then, he'd have enough confidence to coach the team.
"Do you believe in God?" Zhang Yu asked.
Then inspiration struck. He stared straight at Stevens and said, word by word, "But I want to become an NBA head coach in three years... no, within five. Ideally, I'd like to coach the Warriors. What do you think the chances are?" Zhang Yu pressed.
By then, he'd have enough confidence to coach the team.
Zhang Yu smiled:
The players saw that their coach was all right and relaxed. Ben Sladon and AJ Graves apologized again.
"I know all this will take a lot of work, but I believe you can stick with it. You're Dell Curry's son. You grew up in NBA arenas. That's your good fortune, but it's also your burden. If you want to step out of your father's shadow, you can't be just a shooter," Zhang Yu said slowly.
"Ronan? Ronan?"
"Coach, I understand. I'll devote all my time to practicing."
"You just said the Warriors' owner is Chris Cohan?"
"The sunset really is beautiful today," Zhang Yu said admiringly.
Looking at the roster in his hands, Zhang Yu was glad they'd recruited Curry. Otherwise, he wouldn't have had the slightest confidence in leading the team to the Sweet Sixteen.
Although the memories he'd inherited from his predecessor were firmly etched in his mind, they still felt like someone else's. When he recalled them, there was always a sense of distance. But after half a month of intensive study, Zhang Yu was gradually mastering those memories and turning them into his own understanding of basketball.
Curry felt that every word Zhang Yu said hit home. No one had ever understood him so well—not even his family knew how much he longed to surpass his father.
"Coach, I'll do it!" Curry said, his gaze resolute.
"Stop dreaming. Unless the Warriors' owner has lost his mind, he'd never hire a man in his twenties as the team's head coach. Do you think Chris Cohan is an idiot?" Stevens twisted the knife.
"But I want to become an NBA head coach in three years... no, within five. Ideally, I'd like to coach the Warriors. What do you think the chances are?" Zhang Yu pressed.
"Is that really how many times?"
"Coach, I'll do it!" Curry said, his gaze resolute.
"Stop dreaming. Unless the Warriors' owner has lost his mind, he'd never hire a man in his twenties as the team's head coach. Do you think Chris Cohan is an idiot?" Stevens twisted the knife.
Zhang Yu let out a long sigh, feeling that the grand ambition he'd declared was doomed to die.
"Coach, I'll do it!" Curry said, his gaze resolute.
"Stop dreaming. Unless the Warriors' owner has lost his mind, he'd never hire a man in his twenties as the team's head coach. Do you think Chris Cohan is an idiot?" Stevens twisted the knife.
"Is that really how many times?"
Before you continue