Didn't I Just Pick Up a Treasure?

"Perkins, help me set a screen later."

"No problem!"

"Beep!" With the sound of the whistle, the game officially began.

The starters secured the opening possession, and the first ball went to Paul Pierce. Paul Pierce didn't show any mercy; with a series of fakes, he deceived his defender and steadily tossed the ball into the basket.

0:2

The starters scored first.

Next was the bench team's turn. Kendrick Perkins in the paint looked toward the corner from time to time, waiting for instructions from Goodwin, but Goodwin didn't make a move.

He stayed quietly in the left corner, as if the offense had nothing to do with him.

It wasn't that Goodwin didn't want to attack, but rather he wanted to observe the starters' defense.

As the shot clock ticked down second by second, the bench team still hadn't found a good shooting opportunity, so Delonte West had to force a shot.

"Clang!" Disturbed by the defense, the ball hit the rim.

"Fast break!"

The starters immediately launched a counterattack. The ball traveled from the backcourt to the frontcourt and was passed to Jiri Welsch. It took less than 5 seconds, and Jiri Welsch easily completed the layup.

0:4

Goodwin walked up to Delonte West and said, "West, watch my movement later."

"Copy that!" Delonte West's mouth curled slightly. He had teamed up with Goodwin in previous internal scrimmages, and Goodwin was simply a weapon for a point guard to rack up assists.

The bench team inbounded the ball again, passing it to Delonte West, who quickly dribbled across half-court.

Before long, they crossed the half-court line, and Delonte West's eyes remained fixed on Goodwin.

He saw Goodwin running toward the left corner again, making a gesture as he ran.

Kendrick Perkins noticed it immediately and ran over from the paint.

Screech... Arriving at the corner, Goodwin slammed on the brakes, his shoes screeching against the floor.

Goodwin twisted his left foot, pushed off the floor hard with his right, and sprinted toward the perimeter.

Paul Pierce, responsible for guarding Goodwin, hurriedly chased after him. Goodwin, don't think you're getting an easy shot.

Just then, a wall suddenly blocked Paul Pierce's path.

What? A screen!

Damn it, I absolutely cannot give Goodwin an open shot. Paul Pierce shouted immediately, "Mark, help defense!"

Hearing Paul Pierce's words, Mark Blount lunged toward Goodwin instantly, but he was still a step too late.

Goodwin used the screen to shake off his defender and arrived at the 45-degree three-point line on the left.

The ball arrived right as he did! Delonte West passed the ball immediately.

The moment Goodwin caught the ball, he didn't adjust at all; he jumped, hung in the air, and released.

The motion was fluid and seamless—a clean strike!

"Beautiful!" Doc Rivers couldn't help but say from the sidelines, though it was unclear if he was praising the bench team's tactics or Goodwin's shot.

The ball traced a beautiful arc through the air.

"Swish." With a sound, the ball dropped steadily into the basket as if it were equipped with GPS.

Score! Goodwin opened the scoring for the bench team.

3:4

"Nice, Goodwin." "Great shot." "GOOD!"... The other four players on the bench team praised Goodwin one after another.

As for Goodwin, the person involved, there wasn't the slightest change in emotion on his face, as if this were a simple matter. Watching the ball go in, he turned around to get back on defense.

"Sorry, Paul!" Mark Blount apologized quickly. Paul Pierce had warned him, yet he still failed to stop Goodwin's shot.

"It's fine, pay attention on the next possession." Paul Pierce said this not only to Mark Blount but also to himself.

He really hadn't noticed Kendrick Perkins' arrival just now; if he had known, he could have reacted immediately.

"Paul, I'll definitely be able to jump out next time," Mark Blount promised.

Paul Pierce nodded.

It was the starters' turn to attack. This time, the starters initiated a screen from the middle. Mike James used the screen to drive in, drawing the bench team's defensive attention, but he didn't choose to pass it out; instead, he chose to go for it himself, forcing a tough layup.

"Clang!" Mike James' layup was successfully contested.

Kendrick Perkins secured the defensive rebound and immediately passed the ball to Delonte West.

"West, ball!" Goodwin, sprinting in the frontcourt, shouted loudly.

Delonte West took a glance, and even though Paul Pierce was right next to Goodwin, Delonte West didn't hesitate to pass.

The ball flew straight toward Goodwin in the frontcourt.

Paul Pierce thought about jumping to intercept the pass, but the trajectory was slightly too high, and in an instant, Paul Pierce gave up.

Goodwin secured the ball.

The moment Goodwin grabbed the ball, Paul Pierce surged past him, planting himself in front of him and settling into a defensive stance.

"Goodwin, if you want to get past me, try again in your next life," Paul Pierce trash-talked.

Paul Pierce's trash talk was famous throughout the league, though he was actually quite gentle when dealing with his junior, Goodwin.

Goodwin feinted a drive to the right, and Paul Pierce immediately reacted, shifting his body to move in that direction.

But the next instant, Goodwin pulled back and rose for a jump shot right where he stood.

FUCK! I've been had!

Paul Pierce immediately halted his momentum, pushed off his left foot, and reached out to contest Goodwin's shot.

Even from a meter behind the three-point line, Paul Pierce believed in Goodwin's ability to sink the shot; no one on the Boston Celtics knew Goodwin's strength better than he did.

That was exactly why he had been so anxious when Coach John kept Goodwin glued to the bench, and why he had cursed John Carroll in his heart countless times—the idiot was truly rotten to the core, and he couldn't fathom what Danny Ainge saw in him...

Mid-air, Goodwin seemed to have anticipated Paul Pierce lunging at him; he leaned his torso slightly backward, evaded Paul Pierce's block, and released the ball.

"Fuck..." Doc Rivers, standing on the sidelines, cursed out loud. This was clearly a perfect fast break, so why take a three-pointer? There wasn't even anyone under the basket to grab a rebound.

"Swish." The ball went in, and Doc Rivers' words caught in his throat, leaving him unable to make a sound. This, this, this...

Assistant coach Jack said from the side, "This is Goodwin's shooting. His open three-point percentage in practice reaches a staggering 91%, and his open mid-range percentage hits an incredible 95%!"

Doc Rivers looked at assistant coach Jack in shock, as if asking, are you telling the truth?

91%, 95%?

"Per day?" Doc Rivers asked, holding up his index finger.

"Of course not, that's the shooting percentage from the two-plus months Goodwin has spent training since joining the Boston Celtics."

"OMG! Did I just strike gold?"

"That's right, Coach Doc. I hope you cultivate Goodwin well and try to give him some playing time," assistant coach Jack requested.

Over these past few days, assistant coach Jack had witnessed Goodwin's grueling training firsthand; it was clear he had the talent, yet he had no opportunity to show it.

"Don't worry, Jack. I will develop him into the Reggie Miller of Boston."

If Goodwin had heard Doc Rivers' words, he would have surely taken his size 13 shoe and smashed it into Doc Rivers' face, shouting, "Who wants to be a king without a crown? I'm here to climb to the highest peak in the NBA!"