The Tamed Black Bear

People always mature—it's just a matter of whether it happens early or late.

Without a doubt, Zach Randolph belonged to the late-blooming crowd. During the prime of his career, Randolph never really focused on the basketball court.

Drugs, nightclubs, illegal firearms, skipping practice, fighting teammates... these things seemed to fill Zach Randolph's life.

But now, at thirty years old, Randolph finally knew what he had to do. He had to fight for his career, and most importantly, he had to fight for the Grizzlies.

He loved the Grizzlies because he saw his own reflection in them. When he was at his lowest, Memphis took him in without a hint of disdain. So he wanted his team to get stronger, and in fact, Randolph had been working toward that goal all along.

That's why he wouldn't allow any Grizzlies player to coast through their days—especially rookies.

Two minutes into the scrimmage, Link's performance had been outstanding. Not because he scored a ton, but because Link showed up in the right place every single time according to the play.

Whether it was defensive positioning, offensive movement, screens with teammates, or ball movement, Link did everything just right. For a role player, not making mistakes is far more important than creating flashy moments. Link's stability on the court was something Sam Young simply couldn't match.

This time, Link shut down Sam Young's shot again. It wasn't because Link's defense was all that elite, but because Sam Young's offensive arsenal was way too predictable for Link.

Sam Young was undoubtedly an athletic wing, but sadly, his dribbling wasn't up to par. He couldn't drive fast, and against tough defense, he struggled to get the ball to the basket.

So Sam Young's favorite move was taking one or two dribbles and then pulling up for a sudden jump shot. His shooting inside the three-point line was solid—that much had been proven in NBA games.

But because his offensive options were so limited, Link could easily predict when Sam Young would shoot. Every time Sam Young had the ball, Link counted his steps. Two steps in, and Link would jump to block—every single time.

That's why almost every shot Sam Young took today was contested. If you were Kobe, you could get away with that. But as an ordinary role player, Sam Young's contested shooting percentage was downright ugly.

Two minutes in, Sam Young had taken three shots and missed all of them. After this latest miss, his shooting line read 0-for-4.

Hollins shook his head. This was exactly why he didn't trust Sam Young.

The kid was strong, athletic, played active defense, could throw down dunks and hit jumpers. By all logic, he should have been a solid bench piece. But his impulsive play on the court held him back. He wasn't consistent, and the Grizzlies were a team that prized consistency.

Seeing Sam Young's offense get shut down by Link again, Randolph let out a light snort. Sam Young wasn't putting enough pressure on Link. Randolph decided to make this practice a little more interesting.

So on the next defensive possession, Randolph locked his attention onto Link. The moment Sam Young got beaten, he'd rotate over to help. He wanted to see just how this slow-looking yellow-skinned player had Sam Young so thoroughly rattled.

Conley dribbled and directed traffic, flashing a hand signal. Link immediately understood and started moving.

Even though he'd only heard the play from Elston Turner once, Link knew this offensive set called for him to cut to the basket. This was a chance to show his offensive ability—he couldn't screw it up.

Conley stopped at the three-point line, and Darrell Arthur came up to set a screen. It was just a fake screen—Conley had no intention of attacking. He was waiting for Link to make his move.

Link ran a pick-and-roll with Gasol Jr. Off the big man's high-quality screen, Link easily shed the impatient Sam Young.

At the same time, Conley's pass arrived. Link caught the ball as he cut to the basket, with a clear path to the rim.

"Great chemistry!" Lionel Hollins clapped from the sideline. The NBA had plenty of plug-and-play guys—veterans whose experience and high basketball IQ let them adapt to any team quickly.

But those were usually old heads. This was the first time Hollins had seen a rookie who could plug and play just as well.

Randolph slid over from the side into the paint. As Link rose up, the "Big Black Bear" jumped with him. He wasn't going to go easy on Link—better to get blocked by a teammate in practice than embarrassed in a real game.

Randolph swung his arm hard, but hit nothing! Mid-air, Link suddenly switched from a shot to a pass, slipping the ball past Randolph to the perimeter.

"What!?" Randolph's eyes went wide. Was this guy really a wing? His passing vision looked like Mike Conley's!

And waiting at the three-point line was Darrell Arthur, the man Randolph had left wide open.

Darrell Arthur wasn't a big name in the NBA, but back in college, he was a force to be reckoned with. As the star forward for the University of Kansas, he led his team to beat Derrick Rose's Memphis Tigers and win the NCAA championship that year.

Arthur could fly and dunk in college, but his athleticism was just average in the NBA. Still, as a power forward, he had a reliable three-point shot—that was his ticket to sticking in the league.

In an era before stretch fours became the norm, Arthur's occasional three-pointer always hit hard. Like right now.

Randolph had been completely drawn inside by Link, leaving Arthur wide open. He didn't waste the chance, turning Link's slick pass into an assist.

As Arthur's shot fell, Link tilted his head at Randolph. "You almost blocked me."

"You little bastard!" Randolph cursed, but a grin spread across his face.

A teammate who was both smart and cocky—that seemed right up Randolph's alley.

Randolph had tried to put Link in his place and failed. Next possession, he never expected Link to turn the tables on him.

This time, Randolph planned to use his bulk to bully Arthur. But the moment he backed down with the ball, he got double-teamed.

The man coming over to help was Link.

Hollins frowned. Double-teaming Randolph wasn't his strategy. A player didn't always have to follow the head coach's orders to the letter, but if freelancing led to giving up points, that wasn't acceptable.

So would Link's freelance move pay off?

Link's double-team was crafty—he kept harassing Randolph's lower body, making it impossible for Randolph to bring the ball below chest level. Sam Young had already shown Randolph how dangerous this 0-numbered Chinese-American's steals were.

With no way to bring the ball down, Randolph couldn't spin for a drive. And a hook or turnaround jumper from this distance was too much of a stretch.

Left with no choice, Randolph passed to the open Sam Young.

Sam Young caught the ball beyond the arc with a shot opportunity, but given his atrocious three-point percentage, he hesitated!

In an NBA game, a second of hesitation means the window closes. By the time he reacted, Link was already back on him.

"Beautiful!" Hollins clapped from the sideline. He'd lost count of how many times he'd applauded Link today, but he just couldn't help it.

Link had shut down the opponent's offense with active movement and smart strategy. This was exactly the kind of defense Hollins loved.

At this point, Hollins couldn't help but wonder—how had Link gone undrafted? At the very least, he was worth a second-round pick. With that basketball IQ alone, Link should have ranked among the top 60 in this year's draft class.

With Link sealing him off, Sam Young had to pass again. And since Randolph's initial attack had failed, he'd lost his prime position. Their offense was completely broken, and the possession ended with Mayo clanking a contested shot.

Watching Mayo choose to go one-on-one with Tony Allen, Link shook his head. That guy Mayo was a textbook case of having a star's disease without a star's fate.

Gasol Jr. grabbed the rebound, and Link's team pushed the fast break. Conley got the ball up quickly this time, receiving Gasol Jr.'s pass and immediately feeding it to Link.

But Link ran into Sam Young's blockade, costing him some time. Randolph charged up from behind and planted himself under the basket.

Despite the blockade, Link's lighter frame now meant he wasn't completely unable to get past his man. He broke through Sam Young with a rhythmically deceptive crossover, and the sheer pleasure of blowing past someone made Link feel incredibly good.

If he later upgraded to prime Hill, wouldn't the thrill of blowing past defenders take off? After all, prime Hill's first step was something else.

After shaking Sam Young, Link drove into the paint and took off in three steps.

Randolph reacted a beat too late. He thought Link would choose to pass, but he never expected the kid to play so tough!

Link's yellow skin always made people assume he was soft. But in truth, Link didn't shy away from contact.

Because his timing was off, Randolph couldn't get the block. Instead, his entire bulky frame crashed down onto Link.

Link gritted his teeth to keep his balance, fighting to keep his shooting hand steady. Then he was sent flying out of bounds by that "big black bear," but the moment he hit the floor, Link heard Turner's whistle—and the sound of the ball swishing through the net!

"Damn it, Zach. You let the guy get an and-one opportunity. If this were a real game, you'd be benched already! Good job, Link! If anyone slacks off on defense, punish them like that!"

Hollins roared from the sideline. Randolph waved his hand helplessly and walked over to Link.

At first, Link thought Randolph was coming to talk trash. But instead, the "big black bear" extended his powerful arm toward Link on the ground.

"Nice work. That's how you play ball in Memphis. Oh, and I forgot to say it at lunch—welcome to the Grizzlies, buddy."

Randolph smiled. He acknowledged this yellow-skinned kid's game now.