I Came, I Saw, I Conquered!

Volume 1: I Came, I Saw, I Conquered! Chapter 2: I'm the Head Coach?

"Ronan, wake up, practice starts soon..." He had poured all his time and energy into his dream, reading dozens of basketball strategy books and studying hundreds of classic game recordings. On the left side of the room was a large black bookshelf, which, in addition to books, also displayed several trophies. He then noticed Stevens holding his shoulder, staring intently at him. To his surprise, he wasn't lying in bed but was slumped over a desk. However, the original owner had never coached a single basketball game alone and lacked coaching experience, still being a long way from becoming a top basketball coach. A burly Black man wearing headphones had a look of ecstasy on his face, his body swaying rhythmically. But even if Butler was obscure, it was still a Division I NCAA team that had made it to March Madness four years ago. How could the head coach position be given to a 23-year-old Chinese person? Zhang Yu was fast asleep when he suddenly felt himself being pushed a few times. But unlike Zhang Yu, "Zhang Yu" was born 12 years earlier than Zhang Yu and dreamed of becoming a basketball coach. Without the barrier of soundproof glass, the noise from outside rushed in. He had come to Butler University in Indiana, USA, on a scholarship due to his excellent academic performance, majoring in Sports Education and Health, and had given himself an English name, "Ronan." "We share the same name, and I've inherited your memories. From today onwards, I am the head coach of the Bulldogs. I will carry both your dream and mine forward with unwavering resolve." He dazedly opened his eyes, his consciousness still in a hazy state between waking and sleeping. He felt the sounds he was hearing were very strange. He had poured all his time and energy into his dream, reading dozens of basketball strategy books and studying hundreds of classic game recordings. Suddenly, a familiar wave of dizziness washed over him, and a series of images flooded Zhang Yu's mind again. "What are you looking at?" Zhang Yu looked up, gradually regaining his senses. A dull ache spread throughout his body. Where am I? What happened? "You're already the head coach of the Bulldogs, so you can afford to call an ambulance." Seeing that Zhang Yu didn't seem to be in any serious trouble, Stevens relaxed and teased him with a smile. Now, Zhang Yu was the one fulfilling this contract. No wonder Rickert had recommended the original owner to succeed him. Zhang Yu sat there, his expression vacant, his eyes unfocused, staring straight ahead. A burly Black man wearing headphones had a look of ecstasy on his face, his body swaying rhythmically. He then noticed Stevens holding his shoulder, staring intently at him. To his surprise, he wasn't lying in bed but was slumped over a desk. The first reaction of the Butler University board was naturally to refuse. I've never been here before! This year, "Zhang Yu" is 23 years old, has completed all his university courses, and has successfully graduated. Beside him was a white man with a high nose, deep-set eyes, and a stern face, leaning over and looking at him with concern. After Stevens left, Zhang Yu sat in his chair, staring blankly out the window at the serene yet vibrant Butler University campus. "Haha, you're right..." Zhang Yu gave a dry laugh. "Brad, I might have stayed up too late watching game footage yesterday. I'm a bit low on energy, I'll be fine after a rest." An Asian male and a blonde white girl walked hand in hand, their smiles sweet. After Stevens left, Zhang Yu sat in his chair, staring blankly out the window at the serene yet vibrant Butler University campus. Suddenly, a familiar wave of dizziness washed over him, and a series of images flooded Zhang Yu's mind again. From this moment on, he was no longer just a devoted fan who had watched basketball for over a decade, but an assistant coach of the Bulldogs with a solid theoretical foundation. He finally understood what was strange about the voice earlier; it was in English! Through the clear glass display case, a young man about 1.85 meters tall, somewhat handsome but not exceptionally so, was visible. The most striking feature about him was his sharp, upward-slanted eyebrows. However, fate is unpredictable. Half a month ago, when "Zhang Yu" and Rickert were out together, a small truck lost control and violently crashed into the Chevrolet Rickert was driving! Just as Zhang Yu was about to speak, he was hit by a heavy wave of dizziness. Through the clear glass display case, a young man about 1.85 meters tall, somewhat handsome but not exceptionally so, was visible. The most striking feature about him was his sharp, upward-slanted eyebrows. Brad Stevens woke me up... "Haha, you're right..." Zhang Yu gave a dry laugh. "Brad, I might have stayed up too late watching game footage yesterday. I'm a bit low on energy, I'll be fine after a rest." "Today is your first day as head coach, and you stayed up all night watching footage in your office. Aren't you afraid of getting dark circles under your eyes?" The white man smiled when he saw Zhang Yu wake up. He slowly stood up and, to Stevens's puzzled gaze, walked step by step to the floor-to-ceiling window. With slightly trembling hands, he unlatched it and pushed the window open. Although Zhang Yu had insurance as an international student, calling an ambulance would cost at least $300. Zhang Yu's head felt fuzzy as he stared blankly at the white man in front of him. He looked very familiar, but he just couldn't recall his name. Zhang Yu was certain that everything in this place was unfamiliar. Through the clear glass display case, a young man about 1.85 meters tall, somewhat handsome but not exceptionally so, was visible. The most striking feature about him was his sharp, upward-slanted eyebrows. "Are you Brad Stevens?" Where am I? What happened? The first reaction of the Butler University board was naturally to refuse. Where am I? What happened? Zhang Yu looked around, growing more confused. He had come to Butler University in Indiana, USA, on a scholarship due to his excellent academic performance, majoring in Sports Education and Health, and had given himself an English name, "Ronan." He dazedly opened his eyes, his consciousness still in a hazy state between waking and sleeping. He felt the sounds he was hearing were very strange. Zhang Yu recalled the original owner's extreme aversion to calling an ambulance and quickly stopped him. In the United States, the cost of calling an ambulance is very high for ordinary people. Zhang Yu sat there, his expression vacant, his eyes unfocused, staring straight ahead. Just as Zhang Yu was about to speak, he was hit by a heavy wave of dizziness. In front of him was a large solid wood desk, on which sat an old-fashioned computer with a large, heavy monitor displaying a paused basketball game. In front of him was a large solid wood desk, on which sat an old-fashioned computer with a large, heavy monitor displaying a paused basketball game. Zhang Yu, dejected, walked back to the desk and happened to see the time displayed in the lower right corner of the computer screen: May 25, 2006. It was just that Rickert was seriously injured, and the school couldn't easily reject his recommendation. An Asian male and a blonde white girl walked hand in hand, their smiles sweet. On the left side of the room was a large black bookshelf, which, in addition to books, also displayed several trophies. "What are you looking at?" Suddenly, a familiar wave of dizziness washed over him, and a series of images flooded Zhang Yu's mind again. "Is this after-sales service for transmigrators?" But the original owner had never coached a single basketball game alone and lacked coaching experience, still being a long way from becoming a top basketball coach. On the right was a floor-to-ceiling window, with two chairs and a table in front of it. He then noticed Stevens holding his shoulder, staring intently at him. Where am I? What happened? His legs went weak, and he sank into the chair. A series of images suddenly flooded his mind. Zhang Yu's head felt fuzzy as he stared blankly at the white man in front of him. He looked very familiar, but he just couldn't recall his name. "Brad Stevens?" "Don't! I'm fine!" I've never been here before! Even Brad Stevens, the assistant coach favored by the board to take over as head coach, expressed support for "Zhang Yu." Now, Zhang Yu was the one fulfilling this contract. It was just that Rickert was seriously injured, and the school couldn't easily reject his recommendation. But unlike Zhang Yu, "Zhang Yu" was born 12 years earlier than Zhang Yu and dreamed of becoming a basketball coach. That was the growth journey of another "Zhang Yu"! He had poured all his time and energy into his dream, reading dozens of basketball strategy books and studying hundreds of classic game recordings. Where am I? What happened? Zhang Yu was certain that everything in this place was unfamiliar. On the left side of the room was a large black bookshelf, which, in addition to books, also displayed several trophies. No wonder Rickert had recommended the original owner to succeed him. He wanted to continue accumulating coaching experience under Rickert, and then, when the time was right, take charge of a high school team, work his way up step by step, and eventually coach an NBA team. This was his deepest desire. In front of him was a large solid wood desk, on which sat an old-fashioned computer with a large, heavy monitor displaying a paused basketball game. "Who else would come to wake you up besides me? What's wrong? Don't tell me you have amnesia. You still owe me a dozen Budweisers." The white man said with a teasing smile. Moreover, this white man was neither his colleague nor his client; he just looked very familiar, like someone he should have met somewhere. "Calm down, calm down... Damn it! I'm just a keyboard warrior. At most, I can pontificate online. How can I be the head coach of an NCAA team?" Zhang Yu fiercely rubbed his face and growled a few times in frustration. He straightened his tie, his expression solemn, bowed deeply to the figure in the glass display case, and strode out of the office. "Today is your first day as head coach, and you stayed up all night watching footage in your office. Aren't you afraid of getting dark circles under your eyes?" The white man smiled when he saw Zhang Yu wake up. Zhang Yu looked into the distance. Many young people were walking around with backpacks, carrying stacks of books, laughing and chatting with each other. They were all speaking English without exception. "Then I'll head to the gym. If there are any issues, call me immediately." Stevens made a gesture for calling. "Don't take too long. Today is your first day as head coach." The images showed various basketball strategy books, piles of notes, and game footage that the original owner had watched after becoming the Bulldogs' assistant coach, experiencing games from the sidelines. "Brad Stevens?" Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck Zhang Yu, and he blurted out: From this moment on, he was no longer just a devoted fan who had watched basketball for over a decade, but an assistant coach of the Bulldogs with a solid theoretical foundation. "Are you Brad Stevens?" Zhang Yu recalled the original owner's extreme aversion to calling an ambulance and quickly stopped him. Through the clear glass display case, a young man about 1.85 meters tall, somewhat handsome but not exceptionally so, was visible. The most striking feature about him was his sharp, upward-slanted eyebrows. Stevens looked out the window and said: He slumped into his chair, staring at the ceiling, his face a picture of despair. "Are you Brad Stevens?" "Ronan, wake up, practice starts soon..." His legs went weak, and he sank into the chair. A series of images suddenly flooded his mind. Although the Bulldogs hadn't made it to the NCAA tournament many times, and only two players in their history had become "water boys" in the NBA, they were a very obscure team nationwide. Outside the window was a small road lined with tall trees. The rising sun hung in the distant east, and the soft sunlight filtered through the dense leaves, casting dappled golden spots. The white man looked confused. Zhang Yu realized he had just spoken in Chinese. He then noticed Stevens holding his shoulder, staring intently at him. Where am I? What happened? "You're already the head coach of the Bulldogs, so you can afford to call an ambulance." Seeing that Zhang Yu didn't seem to be in any serious trouble, Stevens relaxed and teased him with a smile. Where am I? What happened? Zhang Yu looked around, growing more confused. He had come to Butler University in Indiana, USA, on a scholarship due to his excellent academic performance, majoring in Sports Education and Health, and had given himself an English name, "Ronan." He dazedly opened his eyes, his consciousness still in a hazy state between waking and sleeping. He felt the sounds he was hearing were very strange. Zhang Yu recalled the original owner's extreme aversion to calling an ambulance and quickly stopped him. Zhang Yu sat there, his expression vacant, his eyes unfocused, staring straight ahead. Just as Zhang Yu was about to speak, he was hit by a heavy wave of dizziness. In front of him was a large solid wood desk, on which sat an old-fashioned computer with a large, heavy monitor displaying a paused basketball game. In front of him was a large solid wood desk, on which sat an old-fashioned computer with a large, heavy monitor displaying a paused basketball game. Zhang Yu, dejected, walked back to the desk and happened to see the time displayed in the lower right corner of the computer screen: May 25, 2006. It was just that Rickert was seriously injured, and the school couldn't easily reject his recommendation. An Asian male and a blonde white girl walked hand in hand, their smiles sweet. On the left side of the room was a large black bookshelf, which, in addition to books, also displayed several trophies. "What are you looking at?" Suddenly, a familiar wave of dizziness washed over him, and a series of images flooded Zhang Yu's mind again. "Is this after-sales service for transmigrators?" But the original owner had never coached a single basketball game alone and lacked coaching experience, still being a long way from becoming a top basketball coach. On the right was a floor-to-ceiling window, with two chairs and a table in front of it. He then noticed Stevens holding his shoulder, staring intently at him. Where am I? What happened? His legs went weak, and he sank into the chair. A series of images suddenly flooded his mind. Zhang Yu's head felt fuzzy as he stared blankly at the white man in front of him. He looked very familiar, but he just couldn't recall his name. "Brad Stevens?" "Don't! I'm fine!" I've never been here before! Even Brad Stevens, the assistant coach favored by the board to take over as head coach, expressed support for "Zhang Yu." Now, Zhang Yu was the one fulfilling this contract. It was just that Rickert was seriously injured, and the school couldn't easily reject his recommendation. But unlike Zhang Yu, "Zhang Yu" was born 12 years earlier than Zhang Yu and dreamed of becoming a basketball coach. That was the growth journey of another "Zhang Yu"! He had poured all his time and energy into his dream, reading dozens of basketball strategy books and studying hundreds of classic game recordings. Where am I? What happened? Zhang Yu was certain that everything in this place was unfamiliar. On the left side of the room was a large black bookshelf, which, in addition to books, also displayed several trophies. No wonder Rickert had recommended the original owner to succeed him. He wanted to continue accumulating coaching experience under Rickert, and then, when the time was right, take charge of a high school team, work his way up step by step, and eventually coach an NBA team. This was his deepest desire. In front of him was a large solid wood desk, on which sat an old-fashioned computer with a large, heavy monitor displaying a paused basketball game. "Who else would come to wake you up besides me? What's wrong? Don't tell me you have amnesia. You still owe me a dozen Budweisers." The white man said with a teasing smile. Moreover, this white man was neither his colleague nor his client; he just looked very familiar, like someone he should have met somewhere. "Calm down, calm down... Damn it! I'm just a keyboard warrior. At most, I can pontificate online. How can I be the head coach of an NCAA team?" Zhang Yu fiercely rubbed his face and growled a few times in frustration. He straightened his tie, his expression solemn, bowed deeply to the figure in the glass display case, and strode out of the office. "Today is your first day as head coach, and you stayed up all night watching footage in your office. Aren't you afraid of getting dark circles under your eyes?" The white man smiled when he saw Zhang Yu wake up. Zhang Yu looked into the distance. Many young people were walking around with backpacks, carrying stacks of books, laughing and chatting with each other. They were all speaking English without exception. "Then I'll head to the gym. If there are any issues, call me immediately." Stevens made a gesture for calling. "Don't take too long. Today is your first day as head coach." The images showed various basketball strategy books, piles of notes, and game footage that the original owner had watched after becoming the Bulldogs' assistant coach, experiencing games from the sidelines. "Brad Stevens?" Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck Zhang Yu, and he blurted out: From this moment on, he was no longer just a devoted fan who had watched basketball for over a decade, but an assistant coach of the Bulldogs with a solid theoretical foundation. "Are you Brad Stevens?" Zhang Yu recalled the original owner's extreme aversion to calling an ambulance and quickly stopped him. Through the clear glass display case, a young man about 1.85 meters tall, somewhat handsome but not exceptionally so, was visible. The most striking feature about him was his sharp, upward-slanted eyebrows. Stevens looked out the window and said: He slumped into his chair, staring at the ceiling, his face a picture of despair. "Are you Brad Stevens?" "Ronan, wake up, practice starts soon..." His legs went weak, and he sank into the chair. A series of images suddenly flooded his mind. Although the Bulldogs hadn't made it to the NCAA tournament many times, and only two players in their history had become "water boys" in the NBA, they were a very obscure team nationwide. Outside the window was a small road lined with tall trees. The rising sun hung in the distant east, and the soft sunlight filtered through the dense leaves, casting dappled golden spots. The white man looked confused. Zhang Yu realized he had just spoken in Chinese. He then noticed Stevens holding his shoulder, staring intently at him. Where am I? What happened? "You're already the head coach of the Bulldogs, so you can afford to call an ambulance." Seeing that Zhang Yu didn't seem to be in any serious trouble, Stevens relaxed and teased him with a smile. Where am I? What happened? Zhang Yu looked around, growing more confused. He had come to Butler University in Indiana, USA, on a scholarship due to his excellent academic performance, majoring in Sports Education and Health, and had given himself an English name, "Ronan." He dazedly opened his eyes, his consciousness still in a hazy state between waking and sleeping. He felt the sounds he was hearing were very strange. Zhang Yu recalled the original owner's extreme aversion to calling an ambulance and quickly stopped him. Zhang Yu sat there, his expression vacant, his eyes unfocused, staring straight ahead. Just as Zhang Yu was about to speak, he was hit by a heavy wave of dizziness. In front of him was a large solid wood desk, on which sat an old-fashioned computer with a large, heavy monitor displaying a paused basketball game. In front of him was a large solid wood desk, on which sat an old-fashioned computer with a large, heavy monitor displaying a paused basketball game. Zhang Yu, dejected, walked back to the desk and happened to see the time displayed in the lower right corner of the computer screen: May 25, 2006. It was just that Rickert was seriously injured, and the school couldn't easily reject his recommendation. An Asian male and a blonde white girl walked hand in hand, their smiles sweet. On the left side of the room was a large black bookshelf, which, in addition to books, also displayed several trophies. "What are you looking at?" Suddenly, a familiar wave of dizziness washed over him, and a series of images flooded Zhang Yu's mind again. "Is this after-sales service for transmigrators?" But the original owner had never coached a single basketball game alone and lacked coaching experience, still being a long way from becoming a top basketball coach. On the right was a floor-to-ceiling window, with two chairs and a table in front of it. He then noticed Stevens holding his shoulder, staring intently at him. Where am I? What happened? His legs went weak, and he sank into the chair. A series of images suddenly flooded his mind. Zhang Yu's head felt fuzzy as he stared blankly at the white man in front of him. He looked very familiar, but he just couldn't recall his name. "Brad Stevens?" "Don't! I'm fine!" I've never been here before! Even Brad Stevens, the assistant coach favored by the board to take over as head coach, expressed support for "Zhang Yu." Now, Zhang Yu was the one fulfilling this contract. It was just that Rickert was seriously injured, and the school couldn't easily reject his recommendation. But unlike Zhang Yu, "Zhang Yu" was born 12 years earlier than Zhang Yu and dreamed of becoming a basketball coach. That was the growth journey of another "Zhang Yu"! He had poured all his time and energy into his dream, reading dozens of basketball strategy books and studying hundreds of classic game recordings. Where am I? What happened? Zhang Yu was certain that everything in this place was unfamiliar. On the left side of the room was a large black bookshelf, which, in addition to books, also displayed several trophies. No wonder Rickert had recommended the original owner to succeed him. He wanted to continue accumulating coaching experience under Rickert, and then, when the time was right, take charge of a high school team, work his way up step by step, and eventually coach an NBA team. This was his deepest desire. In front of him was a large solid wood desk, on which sat an old-fashioned computer with a large, heavy monitor displaying a paused basketball game. "Who else would come to wake you up besides me? What's wrong? Don't tell me you have amnesia. You still owe me a dozen Budweisers." The white man said with a teasing smile. Moreover, this white man was neither his colleague nor his client; he just looked very familiar, like someone he should have met somewhere. "Calm down, calm down... Damn it! I'm just a keyboard warrior. At most, I can pontificate online. How can I be the head coach of an NCAA team?" Zhang Yu fiercely rubbed his face and growled a few times in frustration. He straightened his tie, his expression solemn, bowed deeply to the figure in the glass display case, and strode out of the office. "Today is your first day as head coach, and you stayed up all night watching footage in your office. Aren't you afraid of getting dark circles under your eyes?" The white man smiled when he saw Zhang Yu wake up. Zhang Yu looked into the distance. Many young people were walking around with backpacks, carrying stacks of books, laughing and chatting with each other. They were all speaking English without exception. "Then I'll head to the gym. If there are any issues, call me immediately." Stevens made a gesture for calling. "Don't take too long. Today is your first day as head coach." The images showed various basketball strategy books, piles of notes, and game footage that the original owner had watched after becoming the Bulldogs' assistant coach, experiencing games from the sidelines. "Brad Stevens?" Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck Zhang Yu, and he blurted out: From this moment on, he was no longer just a devoted fan who had watched basketball for over a decade, but an assistant coach of the Bulldogs with a solid theoretical foundation. "Are you Brad Stevens?" Zhang Yu recalled the original owner's extreme aversion to calling an ambulance and quickly stopped him. Through the clear glass display case, a young man about 1.85 meters tall, somewhat handsome but not exceptionally so, was visible. The most striking feature about him was his sharp, upward-slanted eyebrows. Stevens looked out the window and said: He slumped into his chair, staring at the ceiling, his face a picture of despair. "Are you Brad Stevens?" "Ronan, wake up, practice starts soon..." His legs went weak, and he sank into the chair. A series of images suddenly flooded his mind. Although the Bulldogs hadn't made it to the NCAA tournament many times, and only two players in their history had become "water boys" in the NBA, they were a very obscure team nationwide. Outside the window was a small road lined with tall trees. The rising sun hung in the distant east, and the soft sunlight filtered through the dense leaves, casting dappled golden spots. The white man looked confused. Zhang Yu realized he had just spoken in Chinese. He then noticed Stevens holding his shoulder, staring intently at him. Where am I? What happened? "You're already the head coach of the Bulldogs, so you can afford to call an ambulance." Seeing that Zhang Yu didn't seem to be in any serious trouble, Stevens relaxed and teased him with a smile. Where am I? What happened? Zhang Yu looked around, growing more confused. He had come to Butler University in Indiana, USA, on a scholarship due to his excellent academic performance, majoring in Sports Education and Health, and had given himself an English name, "Ronan." He dazedly opened his eyes, his consciousness still in a hazy state between waking and sleeping. He felt the sounds he was hearing were very strange. Zhang Yu recalled the original owner's extreme aversion to calling an ambulance and quickly stopped him. Zhang Yu sat there, his expression vacant, his eyes unfocused, staring straight ahead. Just as Zhang Yu was about to speak, he was hit by a heavy wave of dizziness. In front of him was a large solid wood desk, on which sat an old-fashioned computer with a large, heavy monitor displaying a paused basketball game. In front of him was a large solid wood desk, on which sat an old-fashioned computer with a large, heavy monitor displaying a paused basketball game. Zhang Yu, dejected, walked back to the desk and happened to see the time displayed in the lower right corner of the computer screen: May 25, 2006. It was just that Rickert was seriously injured, and the school couldn't easily reject his recommendation. An Asian male and a blonde white girl walked hand in hand, their smiles sweet. On the left side of the room was a large black bookshelf, which, in addition to books, also displayed several trophies. "What are you looking at?" Suddenly, a familiar wave of dizziness washed over him, and a series of images flooded Zhang Yu's mind again. "Is this after-sales service for transmigrators?" But the original owner had never coached a single basketball game alone and lacked coaching experience, still being a long way from becoming a top basketball coach. On the right was a floor-to-ceiling window, with two chairs and a table in front of it. He then noticed Stevens holding his shoulder, staring intently at him. Where am I? What happened? His legs went weak, and he sank into the chair. A series of images suddenly flooded his mind. Zhang Yu's head felt fuzzy as he stared blankly at the white man in front of him. He looked very familiar, but he just couldn't recall his name. "Brad Stevens?" "Don't! I'm fine!" I've never been here before! Even Brad Stevens, the assistant coach favored by the board to take over as head coach, expressed support for "Zhang Yu." Now, Zhang Yu was the one fulfilling this contract. It was just that Rickert was seriously injured, and the school couldn't easily reject his recommendation. But unlike Zhang Yu, "Zhang Yu" was born 12 years earlier than Zhang Yu and dreamed of becoming a basketball coach. That was the growth journey of another "Zhang Yu"! He had poured all his time and energy into his dream, reading dozens of basketball strategy books and studying hundreds of classic game recordings. Where am I? What happened? Zhang Yu was certain that everything in this place was unfamiliar. On the left side of the room was a large black bookshelf, which, in addition to books, also displayed several trophies. No wonder Rickert had recommended the original owner to succeed him. He wanted to continue accumulating coaching experience under Rickert, and then, when the time was right, take charge of a high school team, work his way up step by step, and eventually coach an NBA team. This was his deepest desire. In front of him was a large solid wood desk, on which sat an old-fashioned computer with a large, heavy monitor displaying a paused basketball game. "Who else would come to wake you up besides me? What's wrong? Don't tell me you have amnesia. You still owe me a dozen Budweisers." The white man said with a teasing smile. Moreover, this white man was neither his colleague nor his client; he just looked very familiar, like someone he should have met somewhere. "Calm down, calm down... Damn it! I'm just a keyboard warrior. At most, I can pontificate online. How can I be the head coach of an NCAA team?" Zhang Yu fiercely rubbed his face and growled a few times in frustration. He straightened his tie, his expression solemn, bowed deeply to the figure in the glass display case, and strode out of the office. "Today is your first day as head coach, and you stayed up all night watching footage in your office. Aren't you afraid of getting dark circles under your eyes?" The white man smiled when he saw Zhang Yu wake up. Zhang Yu looked into the distance. Many young people were walking around with backpacks, carrying stacks of books, laughing and chatting with each other. They were all speaking English without exception. "Then I'll head to the gym. If there are any issues, call me immediately." Stevens made a gesture for calling. "Don't take too long. Today is your first day as head coach." The images showed various basketball strategy books, piles of notes, and game footage that the original owner had watched after becoming the Bulldogs' assistant coach, experiencing games from the sidelines. "Brad Stevens?" Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck Zhang Yu, and he blurted out: From this moment on, he was no longer just a devoted fan who had watched basketball for over a decade, but an assistant coach of the Bulldogs with a solid theoretical foundation. "Are you Brad Stevens?" Zhang Yu recalled the original owner's extreme aversion to calling an ambulance and quickly stopped him. Through the clear glass display case, a young man about 1.85 meters tall, somewhat handsome but not exceptionally so, was visible. The most striking feature about him was his sharp, upward-slanted eyebrows. Stevens looked out the window and said: He slumped into his chair, staring at the ceiling, his face a picture of despair. "Are you Brad Stevens?" "Ronan, wake up, practice starts soon..." His legs went weak, and he sank into the chair. A series of images suddenly flooded his mind. Although the Bulldogs hadn't made it to the NCAA tournament many times, and only two players in their history had become "water boys" in the NBA, they were a very obscure team nationwide. Outside the window was a small road lined with tall trees. The rising sun hung in the distant east, and the soft sunlight filtered through the dense leaves, casting dappled golden spots. The white man looked confused. Zhang Yu realized he had just spoken in Chinese. He then noticed Stevens holding his shoulder, staring intently at him. Where am I? What happened? "You're already the head coach of the Bulldogs, so you can afford to call an ambulance." Seeing that Zhang Yu didn't seem to be in any serious trouble, Stevens relaxed and teased him with a smile. Where am I? What happened? Zhang Yu looked around, growing more confused. He had come to Butler University in Indiana, USA, on a scholarship due to his excellent academic performance, majoring in Sports Education and Health, and had given himself an English name, "Ronan." He dazedly opened his eyes, his consciousness still in a hazy state between waking and sleeping. He felt the sounds he was hearing were very strange. Zhang Yu recalled the original owner's extreme aversion to calling an ambulance and quickly stopped him. Zhang Yu sat there, his expression vacant, his eyes unfocused, staring straight ahead. Just as Zhang Yu was about to speak, he was hit by a heavy wave of dizziness. In front of him was a large solid wood desk, on which sat an old-fashioned computer with a large, heavy monitor displaying a paused basketball game. In front of him was a large solid wood desk, on which sat an old-fashioned computer with a large, heavy monitor displaying a paused basketball game. Zhang Yu, dejected, walked back to the desk and happened to see the time displayed in the lower right corner of the computer screen: May 25, 2006. It was just that Rickert was seriously injured, and the school couldn't easily reject his recommendation. An Asian male and a blonde white girl walked hand in hand, their smiles sweet. On the left side of the room was a large black bookshelf, which, in addition to books, also displayed several trophies. "What are you looking at?" Suddenly, a familiar wave of dizziness washed over him, and a series of images flooded Zhang Yu's mind again. "Is this after-sales service for transmigrators?" But the original owner had never coached a single basketball game alone and lacked coaching experience, still being a long way from becoming a top basketball coach. On the right was a floor-to-ceiling window, with two chairs and a table in front of it. He then noticed Stevens holding his shoulder, staring intently at him. Where am I? What happened? His legs went weak, and he sank into the chair. A series of images suddenly flooded his mind. Zhang Yu's head felt fuzzy as he stared blankly at the white man in front of him. He looked very familiar, but he just couldn't recall his name. "Brad Stevens?" "Don't! I'm fine!" I've never been here before! Even Brad Stevens, the assistant coach favored by the board to take over as head coach, expressed support for "Zhang Yu." Now, Zhang Yu was the one fulfilling this contract. It was just that Rickert was seriously injured, and the school couldn't easily reject his recommendation. But unlike Zhang Yu, "Zhang Yu" was born 12 years earlier than Zhang Yu and dreamed of becoming a basketball coach. That was the growth journey of another "Zhang Yu"! He had poured all his time and energy into his dream, reading dozens of basketball strategy books and studying hundreds of classic game recordings. Where am I? What happened? Zhang Yu was certain that everything in this place was unfamiliar. On the left side of the room was a large black bookshelf, which, in addition to books, also displayed several trophies. No wonder Rickert had recommended the original owner to succeed him. He wanted to continue accumulating coaching experience under Rickert, and then, when the time was right, take charge of a high school team, work his way up step by step, and eventually coach an NBA team. This was his deepest desire. In front of him was a large solid wood desk, on which sat an old-fashioned computer with a large, heavy monitor displaying a paused basketball game. "Who else would come to wake you up besides me? What's wrong? Don't tell me you have amnesia. You still owe me a dozen Budweisers." The white man said with a teasing smile. Moreover, this white man was neither his colleague nor his client; he just looked very familiar, like someone he should have met somewhere. "Calm down, calm down... Damn it! I'm just a keyboard warrior. At most, I can pontificate online. How can I be the head coach of an NCAA team?" Zhang Yu fiercely rubbed his face and growled a few times in frustration. He straightened his tie, his expression solemn, bowed deeply to the figure in the glass display case, and strode out of the office. "Today is your first day as head coach, and you stayed up all night watching footage in your office. Aren't you afraid of getting dark circles under your eyes?" The white man smiled when he saw Zhang Yu wake up. Zhang Yu looked into the distance. Many young people were walking around with backpacks, carrying stacks of books, laughing and chatting with each other. They were all speaking English without exception. "Then I'll head to the gym. If there are any issues, call me immediately." Stevens made a gesture for calling. "Don't take too long. Today is your first day as head coach." The images showed various basketball strategy books, piles of notes, and game footage that the original owner had watched after becoming the Bulldogs' assistant coach, experiencing games from the sidelines. "Brad Stevens?" Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck Zhang Yu, and he blurted out: From this moment on, he was no longer just a devoted fan who had watched basketball for over a decade, but an assistant coach of the Bulldogs with a solid theoretical foundation. "Are you Brad Stevens?" Zhang Yu recalled the original owner's extreme aversion to calling an ambulance and quickly stopped him. Through the clear glass display case, a young man about