Fuck Them!
"Honestly, I doubt he's up to the job. He's only a few years older than us, and he's Chinese. China's a basketball wasteland. Besides Yao, I don't believe there's anyone else over there who knows the game," said another Black student with dreadlocks.
Hinkle Fieldhouse was packed, the crowd roaring as fans waved their hands in rhythm to the arena DJ and cheered on their team.
His face was twisted with anger, his eyes bloodshot. He looked like a raging bull.
"Man, I don't see it that way. The school must have had a reason for choosing him as head coach. I heard Coach Rickert strongly recommended him for the job, and Rickert led the team to March Madness four years ago," said a somewhat scrawny white student, voicing a different opinion.
Zhang Yu stood by the door, hugging each player as they passed.
"All right, looks like you've figured it out. I am a little nervous." Zhang Yu let out a long breath.
He didn't know what god or spirit had sent him back to 2006, but he never wanted to see another newspaper article questioning him again.
Tannell was Indiana State's starting center and Drew's matchup.
"What's wrong, Brad? Did I miss a spot?" Zhang Yu put on his freshly cleaned suit and looked at Stevens in puzzlement.
"Beep—"
"Hmph. If the team loses to those Indiana State guys today, I'm gonna beat that Chinese guy up!" the Black student shouted, shaking his fist.
"Got it, Coach!" Moore replied crisply, brimming with confidence.
The referee blew his whistle. The game was officially underway!
"You see? We're all losers!" Zhang Yu clenched his right hand into a fist and punched the air. "There are countless people waiting to laugh at us. They're just waiting for us to fail so they can come over and kick us while we're down! Only victory can stop that from happening. Only by winning can we hold our heads high and live with dignity—and keep from letting down the fans who support us!"
After he left, only the coaching staff remained in the locker room. Zhang Yu exhaled, went over to his seat, picked up his suit jacket from the floor, and carefully brushed the dust off it.
"Duke, North Carolina, VT... They all think I can't play in the NCAA!"
"Then I'll just enjoy myself before I die," Zhang Yu said, straightening his clothes one last time before striding toward the door. "Besides, I've got a whole season to prove myself. Even if we lose this game, I'll just get cursed out for a few more days. I refuse to believe my team can lose for an entire season!"
"He's been discharged from the hospital," Zhang Yu said.
"All right, it's our turn. Let's head in..." the white student reminded him.
At last, both teams were ready and took their places on the court. Drew and Tannell stood at center court, glaring fiercely at each other.
"I'll never forget the contemptuous look that bastard Tannell gave me!" Drew said through gritted teeth.
"He's been discharged from the hospital," Zhang Yu said.
The referee blew his whistle. The game was officially underway!
"Honestly, I doubt he's up to the job. He's only a few years older than us, and he's Chinese. China's a basketball wasteland. Besides Yao, I don't believe there's anyone else over there who knows the game," said another Black student with dreadlocks.
There were plenty of people who shared that view, but the fans' frenzied cheers drowned them out. In the NCAA, no one publicly questioned a head coach before a game. But if the Bulldogs lost, things would be different.
He never wanted people to point and whisper behind his back as he walked down the street again.
A Chinese head coach was a one-of-a-kind sight in the NCAA, especially one so young. People looked at Zhang Yu with wide-eyed curiosity, as if they were gawking at a monkey in a zoo.
He picked up the tactics board and addressed his players:
McKenna looked Zhang Yu up and down, then remarked with a sigh:
Zhang Yu naturally had no idea the fans were doubting him. He was in the locker room, giving a speech and rallying the team one last time:
Zhang Yu naturally had no idea the fans were doubting him. He was in the locker room, giving a speech and rallying the team one last time:
"Those people have no idea how much I've sacrificed to become a head coach! I've read who knows how many books on tactics and watched hundreds, even thousands, of game tapes! My notes alone could fill a mountain! But all those people do is take one look at my skin color and age, then sneer that I don't know basketball! I've had enough. I'll prove to them that I deserve this job!"
Stevens walked over to Zhang Yu and looked him up and down several times, as if they'd only just met.
"Butler changed its starting point guard. I don't know what that Chinese guy was thinking, benching the experienced Ben Sladon and starting a high school kid who just graduated. And Stephen Curry used to play shooting guard!" McKenna shook his head and looked at his team's top scorer, Moore. "Gabriel, Curry's skinny. You take him. Look for chances to isolate him. Got it?"
"Honestly, I doubt he's up to the job. He's only a few years older than us, and he's Chinese. China's a basketball wasteland. Besides Yao, I don't believe there's anyone else over there who knows the game," said another Black student with dreadlocks.
"...All right, guys. The preseason doesn't count. This is our first game of the season. Stick to the game plan and give it everything you've got. We're going to win! Those Indiana State guys are paper tigers! I'll say it again: Stephen, you run point. Everyone else, do your part. Drew and Pete, set your screens. Mike and AJ, keep moving off the ball and look for chances to score. Julian, be ready—you'll be our secret weapon. All right, come on. One, two, three—Bulldogs, let's go!" Zhang Yu shouted, rattling off the words at breakneck speed.
Zhang Yu put on his freshly cleaned suit and looked at Stevens in puzzlement.
"Coach, we're going to win!"
"If you can't accept losing, then go win. Start with this game and keep winning. As long as we win, we can have it all! Glory, the spotlight, flowers, applause... Let's win this game and take it all!" Zhang Yu tore off his suit jacket, flung it hard to the floor, and roared.
"Honestly, I doubt he's up to the job. He's only a few years older than us, and he's Chinese. China's a basketball wasteland. Besides Yao, I don't believe there's anyone else over there who knows the game," said another Black student with dreadlocks.
His face was twisted with anger, his eyes bloodshot. He looked like a raging bull.
He finished speaking, then felt his collar tighten around his neck. He loosened his tie, sweat glistening on his forehead.
Zhang Yu suddenly whipped his hand through the air, his face contorted with fury:
Stevens walked over to Zhang Yu and looked him up and down several times, as if they'd only just met.
Tannell was Indiana State's starting center and Drew's matchup.
The players sat on the benches, exchanging puzzled looks. Mike Green leaned toward Julian Becko and asked in a low voice:
"He's been discharged from the hospital," Zhang Yu said.
The Bulldogs players emerged one by one through the tunnel, drawing a roar from the crowd.
"Stephen, go on. This is the beginning of our legendary journey!"
"Is Coach nervous?" the white student asked.
The chant wasn't perfectly in sync, but its force was astounding.
He never wanted people to point and whisper behind his back as he walked down the street again.
Zhang Yu's words brought back memories of being looked down on. Anger flared in the players' hearts, and they shouted in response:
The players answered loudly and charged out the door.
"Got it, Coach!" Moore replied crisply, brimming with confidence.
Curry nodded firmly and said in a resolute voice:
"No!"
The players roared together, their voices echoing down the tunnel.
His voice wasn't loud, but in the quiet locker room it stood out clearly. Zhang Yu heard every word.
"If you can't accept losing, then go win. Start with this game and keep winning. As long as we win, we can have it all! Glory, the spotlight, flowers, applause... Let's win this game and take it all!" Zhang Yu tore off his suit jacket, flung it hard to the floor, and roared.
"Butler changed its starting point guard. I don't know what that Chinese guy was thinking, benching the experienced Ben Sladon and starting a high school kid who just graduated. And Stephen Curry used to play shooting guard!" McKenna shook his head and looked at his team's top scorer, Moore. "Gabriel, Curry's skinny. You take him. Look for chances to isolate him. Got it?"
He wanted to win. He wanted to prove he was a great head coach!
"Don't feel any pressure. Treat this as a chance to gain experience. I hope we can give the fans a great game," McKenna said in a condescending tone, as if he were a veteran offering advice to Zhang Yu.
Stevens was now certain that Coach Rickert had made the right choice. Zhang Yu was an outstanding head coach.
He didn't know what god or spirit had sent him back to 2006, but he never wanted to see another newspaper article questioning him again.
"All right, looks like you've figured it out. I am a little nervous." Zhang Yu let out a long breath.
"Are you willing to spend your whole life as a loser?"
The Indiana State players burst into laughter, repeatedly glancing at the Bulldogs' bench.
He paused, then continued:
"I've been questioned a lot since taking over as head coach. I'm sure you've heard some of it: Ronan is too young. Ronan doesn't know anything. Ronan is Chinese... All I have to say is, fuck them!"
Hinkle Fieldhouse was packed, the crowd roaring as fans waved their hands in rhythm to the arena DJ and cheered on their team.
"Hmph. If the team loses to those Indiana State guys today, I'm gonna beat that Chinese guy up!" the Black student shouted, shaking his fist.
"Look at the head coach on the other side. He's your age, just a kid. I even wonder if he can tell the difference between zone defense and man-to-man."
He suddenly stopped, looking each of them in the eye as he asked, word by word:
His voice wasn't loud, but in the quiet locker room it stood out clearly. Zhang Yu heard every word.
"All right, looks like you've figured it out. I am a little nervous." Zhang Yu let out a long breath.
His voice wasn't loud, but in the quiet locker room it stood out clearly. Zhang Yu heard every word.
"I've been questioned a lot since taking over as head coach. I'm sure you've heard some of it: Ronan is too young. Ronan doesn't know anything. Ronan is Chinese... All I have to say is, fuck them!"
"They might as well be pointing at my nose and calling me a useless piece of trash!" Even the usually composed AJ Graves was furious.
He finished speaking, then felt his collar tighten around his neck. He loosened his tie, sweat glistening on his forehead.
"No!"
The players roared together, their voices echoing down the tunnel.
Indiana State's head coach, Kevin McKenna, also came over and shook Zhang Yu's hand.
"I'll never forget the contemptuous look that bastard Tannell gave me!" Drew said through gritted teeth.
Tannell was Indiana State's starting center and Drew's matchup.
His face was twisted with anger, his eyes bloodshot. He looked like a raging bull.
Zhang Yu suddenly whipped his hand through the air, his face contorted with fury:
He finished speaking, then felt his collar tighten around his neck. He loosened his tie, sweat glistening on his forehead.
The chant wasn't perfectly in sync, but its force was astounding.
"Is Coach nervous?"
His face was twisted with anger, his eyes bloodshot. He looked like a raging bull.
Curry was the last to leave. Zhang Yu pulled him into a hug and whispered in his ear:
The chant wasn't perfectly in sync, but its force was astounding.
"Those people have no idea how much I've sacrificed to become a head coach! I've read who knows how many books on tactics and watched hundreds, even thousands, of game tapes! My notes alone could fill a mountain! But all those people do is take one look at my skin color and age, then sneer that I don't know basketball! I've had enough. I'll prove to them that I deserve this job!"
"No, I'm just surprised," Stevens said, shaking his head. "I've never seen you this worked up. I thought you never let this kind of thing get to you."
As bitter rivals, McKenna had studied the Bulldogs closely.
At last, both teams were ready and took their places on the court. Drew and Tannell stood at center court, glaring fiercely at each other.
The players roared together, their voices echoing down the tunnel.
The players sat on the benches, exchanging puzzled looks. Mike Green leaned toward Julian Becko and asked in a low voice:
Curry said, word by word:
"Honestly, I doubt he's up to the job. He's only a few years older than us, and he's Chinese. China's a basketball wasteland. Besides Yao, I don't believe there's anyone else over there who knows the game," said another Black student with dreadlocks.
He finished speaking, then felt his collar tighten around his neck. He loosened his tie, sweat glistening on his forehead.
"Got it, Coach!" Moore replied crisply, brimming with confidence.
Curry said, word by word:
"Is Coach nervous?"
The players froze. They'd never seen Zhang Yu lose his composure like this, and now they stared at their head coach in shock.
McKenna looked Zhang Yu up and down curiously and remarked:
"You see? We're all losers!" Zhang Yu clenched his right hand into a fist and punched the air. "There are countless people waiting to laugh at us. They're just waiting for us to fail so they can come over and kick us while we're down! Only victory can stop that from happening. Only by winning can we hold our heads high and live with dignity—and keep from letting down the fans who support us!"
After he left, only the coaching staff remained in the locker room. Zhang Yu exhaled, went over to his seat, picked up his suit jacket from the floor, and carefully brushed the dust off it.
"Duke, North Carolina, VT... They all think I can't play in the NCAA!"
"What's wrong, Brad? Did I miss a spot?"
His voice wasn't loud, but in the quiet locker room it stood out clearly. Zhang Yu heard every word.
A Chinese head coach was a one-of-a-kind sight in the NCAA, especially one so young. People looked at Zhang Yu with wide-eyed curiosity, as if they were gawking at a monkey in a zoo.
"He's been discharged from the hospital," Zhang Yu said.
"Beep—"
He never wanted people to look at him strangely again when they learned he was the Bulldogs' head coach.
The Bulldogs' starting lineup was point guard Stephen Curry, shooting guard AJ Graves, small forward Mike Green, power forward Pete Campbell, and center Drew Streicher.
"Is Coach nervous?"
"You know, it wasn't just me. Stephen, do you remember what happened before summer? How many schools turned you down?" Zhang Yu suddenly looked at Curry.
Curry said, word by word:
He finished speaking, then felt his collar tighten around his neck. He loosened his tie, sweat glistening on his forehead.
"Got it, Coach!" Moore replied crisply, brimming with confidence.
Curry said, word by word:
The players froze. They'd never seen Zhang Yu lose his composure like this, and now they stared at their head coach in shock.
McKenna looked Zhang Yu up and down curiously and remarked:
"You see? We're all losers!" Zhang Yu clenched his right hand into a fist and punched the air. "There are countless people waiting to laugh at us. They're just waiting for us to fail so they can come over and kick us while we're down! Only victory can stop that from happening. Only by winning can we hold our heads high and live with dignity—and keep from letting down the fans who support us!"
After he left, only the coaching staff remained in the locker room. Zhang Yu exhaled, went over to his seat, picked up his suit jacket from the floor, and carefully brushed the dust off it.
His voice wasn't loud, but in the quiet locker room it stood out clearly. Zhang Yu heard every word.
"Duke, North Carolina, VT... They all think I can't play in the NCAA!"
"What's wrong, Brad? Did I miss a spot?"
His voice wasn't loud, but in the quiet locker room it stood out clearly. Zhang Yu heard every word.
A Chinese head coach was a one-of-a-kind sight in the NCAA, especially one so young. People looked at Zhang Yu with wide-eyed curiosity, as if they were gawking at a monkey in a zoo.
"He's been discharged from the hospital," Zhang Yu said.
"Beep—"
He never wanted people to look at him strangely again when they learned he was the Bulldogs' head coach.
The Bulldogs' starting lineup was point guard Stephen Curry, shooting guard AJ Graves, small forward Mike Green, power forward Pete Campbell, and center Drew Streicher.
"You know, it wasn't just me. Stephen, do you remember what happened before summer? How many schools turned you down?" Zhang Yu suddenly looked at Curry.
The players' memories of being looked down on flared up at Zhang Yu's words. Anger rose in their hearts, and they shouted in response:
"Look at the head coach on the other side. He's your age, just a kid. I even wonder if he can tell the difference between zone defense and man-to-man."
"They might as well be pointing at my nose and calling me a useless piece of trash!" Even the usually composed AJ Graves was furious.
Thankfully, the players hadn't seen their coach blowing on himself and shaking out his jacket, or the momentum he'd built would have evaporated in an instant.
He smiled and followed them out.
"I'll never forget the contemptuous look that bastard Tannell gave me!" Drew said through gritted teeth.
He wanted to win. He wanted to prove he was a great head coach!
"I was shocked when I heard Coach Rickert was injured. Is he doing better now?"
Indiana State's starting lineup was point guard Gabriel Moore, shooting guard Cole Holmstrom, small forward Adam Arnold, power forward Trent Woz, and center Jay Tannell.
"They might as well be pointing at my nose and calling me a useless piece of trash!" Even the usually composed AJ Graves was furious.
The players answered loudly and charged out the door.
Tannell was Indiana State's starting center and Drew's matchup.
Stevens was now certain that Coach Rickert had made the right choice. Zhang Yu was an outstanding head coach.
"Butler changed its starting point guard. I don't know what that Chinese guy was thinking, benching the experienced Ben Sladon and starting a high school kid who just graduated. And Stephen Curry used to play shooting guard!" McKenna shook his head and looked at his team's top scorer, Moore. "Gabriel, Curry's skinny. You take him. Look for chances to isolate him. Got it?"
"If you can't accept losing, then go win. Start with this game and keep winning. As long as we win, we can have it all! Glory, the spotlight, flowers, applause... Let's win this game and take it all!" Zhang Yu tore off his suit jacket, flung it hard to the floor, and roared.
Zhang Yu came out after them, and the cheers in the arena suddenly died down.
"They might as well be pointing at my nose and calling me a useless piece of trash!" Even the usually composed AJ Graves was furious.
"If you can't accept losing, then go win. Start with this game and keep winning. As long as we win, we can have it all! Glory, the spotlight, flowers, applause... Let's win this game and take it all!" Zhang Yu tore off his suit jacket, flung it hard to the floor, and roared.
The players froze. They'd never seen Zhang Yu lose his composure like this, and now they stared at their head coach in shock.
"Those people have no idea how much I've sacrificed to become a head coach! I've read who knows how many books on tactics and watched hundreds, even thousands, of game tapes! My notes alone could fill a mountain! But all those people do is take one look at my skin color and age, then sneer that I don't know basketball! I've had enough. I'll prove to them that I deserve this job!"
Hinkle Fieldhouse was packed, the crowd roaring as fans waved their hands in rhythm to the arena DJ and cheered on their team.
"You see? We're all losers!" Zhang Yu clenched his right hand into a fist and punched the air. "There are countless people waiting to laugh at us. They're just waiting for us to fail so they can come over and kick us while we're down! Only victory can stop that from happening. Only by winning can we hold our heads high and live with dignity—and keep from letting down the fans who support us!"
"Don't feel any pressure. Treat this as a chance to gain experience. I hope we can give the fans a great game," McKenna said in a condescending tone, as if he were a veteran offering advice to Zhang Yu.
He paused, then continued:
The Bulldogs' starting lineup was point guard Stephen Curry, shooting guard AJ Graves, small forward Mike Green, power forward Pete Campbell, and center Drew Streicher.
"Hmph. If the team loses to those Indiana State guys today, I'm gonna beat that Chinese guy up!" the Black student shouted, shaking his fist.
He never wanted people to look at him strangely again when they learned he was the Bulldogs' head coach.
"All right, it's our turn. Let's head in..." the white student reminded him.
The players answered loudly and charged out the door.
The Bulldogs players emerged one by one through the tunnel, drawing a roar from the crowd.
He suddenly stopped, looking each of them in the eye as he asked, word by word:
"No!"
The players roared together, their voices echoing down the tunnel.
"If you can't accept losing, then go win. Start with this game and keep winning. As long as we win, we can have it all! Glory, the spotlight, flowers, applause... Let's win this game and take it all!" Zhang Yu tore off his suit jacket, flung it hard to the floor, and roared.
The Bulldogs' starting lineup was point guard Stephen Curry, shooting guard AJ Graves, small forward Mike Green, power forward Pete Campbell, and center Drew Streicher.
"Are you willing to spend your whole life as a loser?"
As bitter rivals, McKenna had studied the Bulldogs closely.
"Stephen, go on. This is the beginning of our legendary journey!"
"I was shocked when I heard Coach Rickert was injured. Is he doing better now?"
"No!"
The players roared together, their voices echoing down the tunnel.
"Ha, of course not. I was holding it in before," Zhang Yu said with a laugh and a shake of his head. "I knew that no matter what I said, I couldn't make people stop doubting me. Only winning can deliver the strongest response."
After he left, only the coaching staff remained in the locker room. Zhang Yu exhaled, went over to his seat, picked up his suit jacket from the floor, and carefully brushed the dust off it.
"Ha, of course not. I was holding it in before," Zhang Yu said with a laugh and a shake of his head. "I knew that no matter what I said, I couldn't make people stop doubting me. Only winning can deliver the strongest response."
"He's been discharged from the hospital," Zhang Yu said.
Tannell was Indiana State's starting center and Drew's matchup.
The referee blew his whistle. The game was officially underway!
"...All right, guys. The preseason doesn't count. This is our first game of the season. Stick to the game plan and give it everything you've got. We're going to win! Those Indiana State guys are paper tigers! I'll say it again: Stephen, you run point. Everyone else, do your part. Drew and Pete, set your screens. Mike and AJ, keep moving off the ball and look for chances to score. Julian, be ready—you'll be our secret weapon. All right, come on. One, two, three—Bulldogs, let's go!" Zhang Yu shouted, rattling off the words at breakneck speed.
The players froze. They'd never seen Zhang Yu lose his composure like this, and now they stared at their head coach in shock.
"If you can't accept losing, then go win. Start with this game and keep winning. As long as we win, we can have it all! Glory, the spotlight, flowers, applause... Let's win this game and take it all!" Zhang Yu tore off his suit jacket, flung it hard to the floor, and roared.
"Those people have no idea how much I've sacrificed to become a head coach! I've read who knows how many books on tactics and watched hundreds, even thousands, of game tapes! My notes alone could fill a mountain! But all those people do is take one look at my skin color and age, then sneer that I don't know basketball! I've had enough. I'll prove to them that I deserve this job!"
"Honestly, I doubt he's up to the job. He's only a few years older than us, and he's Chinese. China's a basketball wasteland. Besides Yao, I don't believe there's anyone else over there who knows the game," said another Black student with dreadlocks.
His face was twisted with anger, his eyes bloodshot. He looked like a raging bull.
"What if we lose today?" Stevens asked.
"Don't feel any pressure. Treat this as a chance to gain experience. I hope we can give the fans a great game," McKenna said in a condescending tone, as if he were a veteran offering advice to Zhang Yu.
"Don't feel any pressure. Treat this as a chance to gain experience. I hope we can give the fans a great game," McKenna said in a condescending tone, as if he were a veteran offering advice to Zhang Yu.
"We have to win!"
Curry was the last to leave. Zhang Yu pulled him into a hug and whispered in his ear:
He'd kept his emotions bottled up ever since he'd traveled back in time. Now they finally burst out.
The Indiana State players burst into laughter, repeatedly glancing at the Bulldogs' bench.
The players sat on the benches, exchanging puzzled looks. Mike Green leaned toward Julian Becko and asked in a low voice:
He paused, then continued:
"Those people have no idea how much I've sacrificed to become a head coach! I've read who knows how many books on tactics and watched hundreds, even thousands, of game tapes! My notes alone could fill a mountain! But all those people do is take one look at my skin color and age, then sneer that I don't know basketball! I've had enough. I'll prove to them that I deserve this job!"
He didn't know what god or spirit had sent him back to 2006, but he never wanted to see another newspaper article questioning him again.
Zhang Yu suddenly whipped his hand through the air, his face contorted with fury:
"Don't feel any pressure. Treat this as a chance to gain experience. I hope we can give the fans a great game," McKenna said in a condescending tone, as if he were a veteran offering advice to Zhang Yu.
His face was twisted with anger, his eyes bloodshot. He looked like a raging bull.
He never wanted people to look at him strangely again when they learned he was the Bulldogs' head coach.
"We have to win!"
"...All right, guys. The preseason doesn't count. This is our first game of the season. Stick to the game plan and give it everything you've got. We're going to win! Those Indiana State guys are paper tigers! I'll say it again: Stephen, you run point. Everyone else, do your part. Drew and Pete, set your screens. Mike and AJ, keep moving off the ball and look for chances to score. Julian, be ready—you'll be our secret weapon. All right, come on. One, two, three—Bulldogs, let's go!" Zhang Yu shouted, rattling off the words at breakneck speed.
He never wanted people to look at him strangely again when they learned he was the Bulldogs' head coach.
Curry nodded firmly and said in a resolute voice:
"What if we lose today?" Stevens asked.
"All right, it's our turn. Let's head in..." the white student reminded him.
The players answered loudly and charged out the door.
"No!"
The players roared together, their voices echoing down the tunnel.
"If you can't accept losing, then go win. Start with this game and keep winning. As long as we win, we can have it all! Glory, the spotlight, flowers, applause... Let's win this game and take it all!" Zhang Yu tore off his suit jacket, flung it hard to the floor, and roared.
The Bulldogs' starting lineup was point guard Stephen Curry, shooting guard AJ Graves, small forward Mike Green, power forward Pete Campbell, and center Drew Streicher.
"Are you willing to spend your whole life as a loser?"
"Stephen, go on. This is the beginning of our legendary journey!"
"I was shocked when I heard Coach Rickert was injured. Is he doing better now?"
"No!"
The players roared together, their voices echoing down the tunnel.
"Ha, of course not. I was holding it in before," Zhang Yu said with a laugh and a shake of his head. "I knew that no matter what I said, I couldn't make people stop doubting me. Only winning can deliver the strongest response."
After he left, only the coaching staff remained in the locker room. Zhang Yu exhaled, went over to his seat, picked up his suit jacket from the floor, and carefully brushed the dust off it.
"Ha, of course not. I was holding it in before," Zhang Yu said with a laugh and a shake of his head. "I knew that no matter what I said, I couldn't make people stop doubting me. Only winning can deliver the strongest response."
"He's been discharged from the hospital," Zhang Yu said.
Tannell was Indiana State's starting center and Drew's matchup.
The referee blew his whistle. The game was officially underway!
"...All right, guys. The preseason doesn't count. This is our first game of the season. Stick to the game plan and give it everything you've got. We're going to win! Those Indiana State guys are paper tigers! I'll say it again: Stephen, you run point. Everyone else, do your part. Drew and Pete, set your screens. Mike and AJ, keep moving off the ball and look for chances to score. Julian, be ready—you'll be our secret weapon. All right, come on. One, two, three—Bulldogs, let's go!" Zhang Yu shouted, rattling off the words at breakneck speed.
The players froze. They'd never seen Zhang Yu lose his composure like this, and now they stared at their head coach in shock.
"If you can't accept losing, then go win. Start with this game and keep winning. As long as we win, we can have it all! Glory, the spotlight, flowers, applause... Let's win this game and take it all!" Zhang Yu tore off his suit jacket, flung it hard to the floor, and roared.
"Those people have no idea how much I've sacrificed to become a head coach! I've read who knows how many books on tactics and watched hundreds, even thousands, of game tapes! My notes alone could fill a mountain! But all those people do is take one look at my skin color and age, then sneer that I don't know basketball! I've had enough. I'll prove to them that I deserve this job!"
"Honestly, I doubt he's up to the job. He's only a few years older than us, and he's Chinese. China's a basketball wasteland. Besides Yao, I don't believe there's anyone else over there who knows the game," said another Black student with dreadlocks.
His face was twisted with anger, his eyes bloodshot. He looked like a raging bull.
"What if we lose today?" Stevens asked.
"Don't feel any pressure. Treat this as a chance to gain experience. I hope we can give the fans a great game," McKenna said in a condescending tone, as if he were a veteran offering advice to Zhang Yu.
Zhang Yu said nothing, merely smiling and waving to both sides as he walked to the scorer's table.
He wanted to win. He wanted to prove he was a great head coach!
Zhang Yu came out after them, and the cheers in the arena suddenly died down.
Curry was the last to leave. Zhang Yu pulled him into a hug and whispered in his ear:
"I was shocked when I heard Coach Rickert was injured. Is he doing better now?"
"Duke, North Carolina, VT... They all think I can't play in the NCAA!"
"You know, it wasn't just me. Stephen, do you remember what happened before summer? How many schools turned you down?" Zhang Yu suddenly looked at Curry.
Thankfully, the players hadn't seen their coach blowing on himself and shaking out his jacket, or the momentum he'd built would have evaporated in an instant.
He suddenly stopped, looking each of them in the eye as he asked, word by word:
Stevens walked over to Zhang Yu and looked him up and down several times, as if they'd only just met.
"What's wrong, Brad? Did I miss a spot?"
He paused, then continued:
"Those people have no idea how much I've sacrificed to become a head coach! I've read who knows how many books on tactics and watched hundreds, even thousands, of game tapes! My notes alone could fill a mountain! But all those people do is take one look at my skin color and age, then sneer that I don't know basketball! I've had enough. I'll prove to them that I deserve this job!"
Zhang Yu came out after them, and the cheers in the arena suddenly died down.
He finished speaking, then felt his collar tighten around his neck. He loosened his tie, sweat glistening on his forehead.
"You see? We're all losers!" Zhang Yu clenched his right hand into a fist and punched the air. "There are countless people waiting to laugh at us. They're just waiting for us to fail so they can come over and kick us while we're down! Only victory can stop that from happening. Only by winning can we hold our heads high and live with dignity—and keep from letting down the fans who support us!"
The players answered loudly and charged out the door.
"No, I'm just surprised," Stevens said, shaking his head. "I've never seen you this worked up. I thought you never let this kind of thing get to you."
He wanted to win. He wanted to prove he was a great head coach!
Zhang Yu came out after them, and the cheers in the arena suddenly died down.
Curry was the last to leave. Zhang Yu pulled him into a hug and whispered in his ear:
"Ha, of course not. I was holding it in before," Zhang Yu said with a laugh and a shake of his head. "I knew that no matter what I said, I couldn't make people stop doubting me. Only winning can deliver the strongest response."
"I was shocked when I heard Coach Rickert was injured. Is he doing better now?"
"Duke, North Carolina, VT... They all think I can't play in the NCAA!"
"You know, it wasn't just me. Stephen, do you remember what happened before summer? How many schools turned you down?" Zhang Yu suddenly looked at Curry.
"Butler changed its starting point guard. I don't know what that Chinese guy was thinking, benching the experienced Ben Sladon and starting a high school kid who just graduated. And Stephen Curry used to play shooting guard!" McKenna shook his head and looked at his team's top scorer, Moore. "Gabriel, Curry's skinny. You take him. Look for chances to isolate him. Got it?"
"...All right, guys. The preseason doesn't count. This is our first game of the season. Stick to the game plan and give it everything you've got. We're going to win! Those Indiana State guys are paper tigers! I'll say it again: Stephen, you run point. Everyone else, do your part. Drew and Pete, set your screens. Mike and AJ, keep moving off the ball and look for chances to score. Julian, be ready—you'll be our secret weapon. All right, come on. One, two, three—Bulldogs, let's go!" Zhang Yu shouted, rattling off the words at breakneck speed.
The players froze. They'd never seen Zhang Yu lose his composure like this, and now they stared at their head coach in shock.
"If you can't accept losing, then go win. Start with this game and keep winning. As long as we win, we can have it all! Glory, the spotlight, flowers, applause... Let's win this game and take it all!" Zhang Yu tore off his suit jacket, flung it hard to the floor, and roared.
"Don't feel any pressure. Treat this as a chance to gain experience. I hope we can give the fans a great game," McKenna said in a condescending tone, as if he were a veteran offering advice to Zhang Yu.
Indiana State's head coach, Kevin McKenna, also came over and shook Zhang Yu's hand.
He suddenly smiled and strode after them.
Thankfully, the players hadn't seen their coach blowing on himself and shaking out his jacket, or the momentum he'd built would have evaporated in an instant.
He suddenly stopped, looking each of them in the eye as he asked, word by word:
Stevens walked over to Zhang Yu and looked him up and down several times, as if they'd only just met.
"What's wrong, Brad? Did I miss a spot?"
Zhang Yu came out after them, and the cheers in the arena suddenly died down.
He finished speaking, then felt his collar tighten around his neck. He loosened his tie, sweat glistening on his forehead.
"You see? We're all losers!" Zhang Yu clenched his right hand into a fist and punched the air. "There are countless people waiting to laugh at us. They're just waiting for us to fail so they can come over and kick us while we're down! Only victory can stop that from happening. Only by winning can we hold our heads high and live with dignity—and keep from letting down the fans who support us!"
The players answered loudly and charged out the door.
"No, I'm just surprised," Stevens said, shaking his head. "I've never seen you this worked up. I thought you never let this kind of thing get to you."
He wanted to win. He wanted to prove he was a great head coach!
Zhang Yu came out after them, and the cheers in the arena suddenly died down.
Curry was the last to leave. Zhang Yu pulled him into a hug and whispered in his ear:
"Ha, of course not. I was holding it in before," Zhang Yu said with a laugh and a shake of his head. "I knew that no matter what I said, I couldn't make people stop doubting me. Only winning can deliver the strongest response."
"I was shocked when I heard Coach Rickert was injured. Is he doing better now?"
"Duke, North Carolina, VT... They all think I can't play in the NCAA!"
"You know, it wasn't just me. Stephen, do you remember what happened before summer? How many schools turned you down?" Zhang Yu suddenly looked at Curry.
The players froze. They'd never seen Zhang Yu lose his composure like this, and now they stared at their head coach in shock.
Stevens watched Zhang Yu leave and suddenly felt that his back looked so carefree and defiant.
McKenna looked Zhang Yu up and down curiously and remarked:
"Go on. Take them down!"
Curry was the last to leave. Zhang Yu pulled him into a hug and whispered in his ear:
The players' memories of being looked down on flared up at Zhang Yu's words. Anger rose in their hearts, and they shouted in response:
"Honestly, I doubt he's up to the job. He's only a few years older than us, and he's Chinese. China's a basketball wasteland. Besides Yao, I don't believe there's anyone else over there who knows the game," said another Black student with dreadlocks.
His face was twisted with anger, his eyes bloodshot. He looked like a raging bull.
"Got it, Coach!" Moore replied crisply, brimming with confidence.
Curry nodded firmly and said in a resolute voice:
"If you can't accept losing, then go win. Start with this game and keep winning. As long as we win, we can have it all! Glory, the spotlight, flowers, applause... Let's win this game and take it all!" Zhang Yu tore off his suit jacket, flung it hard to the floor, and roared.
"Honestly, I doubt he's up to the job. He's only a few years older than us, and he's Chinese. China's a basketball wasteland. Besides Yao, I don't believe there's anyone else over there who knows the game," said another Black student with dreadlocks.
He paused, then continued:
"We have to win!"
The Indiana State starting lineup was point guard Gabriel Moore, shooting guard Cole Holmstrom, small forward Adam Arnold, power forward Trent Woz, and center Jay Tannell.
The referee blew his whistle. The game was officially underway!
Indiana State's head coach, Kevin McKenna, also came over and shook Zhang Yu's hand.
He merely smiled and waved to both sides as he walked to the scorer's table.
That was one hell of a speech. He could work the players up into a frenzy in an instant. Stevens was impressed.
"I'm only worried you'll lose too quickly. You'd better give it everything you've got," Zhang Yu replied without backing down.
Stevens was now certain that Coach Rickert had made the right choice. Zhang Yu was an outstanding head coach.
As bitter rivals, McKenna had studied the Bulldogs closely.
The players froze. They'd never seen Zhang Yu lose his composure like this, and now they stared at their head coach in shock.
Thankfully, the players hadn't seen their coach blowing on himself and shaking out his jacket, or the momentum he'd built would have evaporated in an instant.
"Stephen, go on. This is the beginning of our legendary journey!"
Indiana State's head coach, Kevin McKenna, also came over and shook Zhang Yu's hand.
The referee blew his whistle. The game was officially underway!
Stevens walked over to Zhang Yu and looked him up and down several times, as if they'd only just met.
After that speech, Zhang Yu had the players completely fired up. Stevens couldn't help admiring him.
"He's been discharged from the hospital," Zhang Yu said.
His face was twisted with anger, his eyes bloodshot. He looked like a raging bull.
The referee blew his whistle. The game was officially underway!
Indiana State's head coach, Kevin McKenna, also came over and shook Zhang Yu's hand.
He merely smiled and waved to both sides as he walked to the scorer's table.
"Now that I've shown off, I still have to put my suit back on."
Before you continue