You Play Ball Like...

"You little punk, don't get cocky!"

Seeing Link show off right in front of him, Brockman was naturally furious. In past training sessions, Brockman never gave Link any chance to score. Provocation? That was something Link wouldn't even dare to do.

But today, Brockman found Link unusually arrogant, as if he had become a different person.

However, this forward, a University of Washington graduate, wouldn't be intimidated so easily. He knew how inaccurate Link's three-point shooting was. That last basket was definitely just luck!

A person might make one or two threes in a game due to luck, but luck wouldn't hold out forever.

Brockman told himself he would shut out that damn yellow monkey from now on!

On the other half of the court, Link's confidence soared from that recent basket. Last night, even though he had beaten Upshaw in one-on-one, Upshaw hadn't gone all out, treating it like a casual game.

So winning against Upshaw hadn't brought Link much joy.

But just now, he had scored over a real professional player. This meant Link truly had the ability to stand out in the Development League.

No kidding. Even a diminished Grant Hill couldn't fail to compete in the Development League. And Link, possessing Hill's abilities, was no different.

Thus, on defense, Link became incredibly energized from that successful basket. He raised his arms, as if ready to fight Brockman to the death.

Link's arms were very long. Standing at 2.03 meters, he had a wingspan of 2.18 meters. Not freakish, but not short either. It was precisely because of his height and wingspan advantage that the Blue Team had signed him.

They just hadn't expected this Chinese-American player from Fresno to lack physicality and shooting, with only his defensive attitude worth praising.

But Link was different now. He could use his long arms to accomplish many things.

As soon as Brockman crossed half-court, he demanded the ball from his guard. He wanted to score over Link himself to redeem his pride.

Since Brockman was a player who had come down from the NBA, he had some say. So the point guard didn't refuse his request.

Thus, for the second straight possession, Link and Brockman faced off. Only this time, the roles of attacker and defender were swapped.

Most people, including Conner watching from the sidelines, didn't think Link could stop Brockman. His three-pointer might have been luck, but defense had no luck to help you.

Brockman outweighed Link by a full 18 pounds—a solid 18 pounds right there. Luck couldn't make Brockman shed weight instantly.

Most players were already preparing for the next round of defense and offense, because based on past experience, Brockman could easily lean on Link and bulldoze his way to the basket, then decide whether to dunk or layup based on his mood.

But given that Link had just provoked Brockman, the "Big White Bear" would most likely be hanging on the rim.

"Time to die, bastard!" Brockman started dribbling, but to Link, his dribbling wasn't smooth—in fact, it was quite clumsy.

After all, Brockman had played power forward in college. Most of the time, he didn't need to handle the ball to score. So dribbling offense wasn't really his strength.

The "Big White Bear" drove the ball and crashed into Link.

"Thud!" The dull sound of muscle colliding made even Upshaw, standing nearby, wince. He thought about helping Link with a double-team, but remembering that his own matchup was also a good shooter, he abandoned the idea.

"Hang in there, Link!" Upshaw prayed inwardly.

Link was indeed pushed back a few steps by Brockman, who pressed his advantage, using his weight to force his way to the basket.

At the end of his career, Grant Hill's physicality was already average, let alone now, when Link was facing a player nearly 20 pounds heavier.

Link knew he couldn't hold his ground by sheer strength. But Grant Hill's defense had never relied on brute force. As a Hill fan, Link still remembered the 2010 Western Conference Finals, Suns vs. Lakers. Grant Hill was the best defender on the Suns against Kobe, and every moment he guarded Kobe was a textbook example of on-ball defense.

That year, Kobe still crushed the Suns and Hill with his incredible scoring ability. But that was Kobe, one of the league's most dangerous scorers. Using Grant Hill's skills against a Brockman was more than enough.

Especially since this was an "extended-arm version" of Grant Hill.

Just as Brockman drove into the paint and prepared to lift the ball for a dunk, he suddenly found the ball out of his control. Looking down, he saw that Link had stripped the ball the moment he started his gather step!

"What?!" Brockman couldn't believe he had lost. He had been forced into a turnover by an undrafted player!

Conner, watching from the sidelines, was equally stunned. Link's timing on that strip was perfect! An ordinary undrafted rookie couldn't make that kind of read. If he could, he wouldn't have gone undrafted!

But miraculously, Link had done it.

After stripping the ball, Link immediately launched a long outlet pass, finding Upshaw already sprinting up the court.

Grant Hill was one of the smartest players in the league, with excellent passing vision, playmaking ability, and game reading. Naturally, Link inherited these traits from Hill.

If not for injuries, the title of "most versatile small forward" should have belonged to Hill, not LeBron.

Upshaw caught the ball cleanly. Link's pass was perfectly placed. The 1.98-meter black guard checked his position—right at the three-point line!

Without hesitation, Upshaw rose for a three-pointer. A transition pull-up three, swishing through the net!

"Haha, great pass, Link!" Upshaw shouted cheerfully after the basket, pointing at Link in thanks.

Link pointed back at Upshaw in acknowledgment.

Meanwhile, beside Link, Brockman's face had turned purple with rage. Link, having traveled from 2019, wanted to tell Brockman, "Your face looks just like Thanos."

Too bad that big idiot wouldn't get the reference. The struggle of a time traveler—wanting to trash-talk but having to consider whether the other person would understand.

"Keep it up, Link! Keep going!"

From the sidelines, the Blue Team's bald head coach, Conner, even cheered Link on. This coach had never liked Brockman's arrogant, condescending attitude—always acting like being sent down from the NBA made him superior to these "homegrown" NBDL players.

Brockman's attitude had long earned him negative marks from Conner.

And Conner was eager to see what else Link could do. Maybe this kid was starting to live up to his potential?

"Warm-up's over, idiot!" Brockman fumed. He, who had always beaten Link easily, couldn't accept being defeated by him all of a sudden.

A player sent down from the NBA losing to an undrafted rookie? That would be a laughingstock!

So this time, Brockman didn't tangle with Link beyond the three-point line. Forget small forward tactics—to hell with that! This time, Brockman planned to use his favorite low-post offense to crush that yellow-skinned guy.

Brockman settled into the paint, backed in, and sealed off Link, then raised his hand for the ball.

The others were already starting to get annoyed with Brockman. Did he think the whole practice was just for him to hog the spotlight?

But wary of Brockman's mood, the point guard still lobbed the ball inside.

Brockman had been dominant in the low post during college, with a high scoring rate. But his scoring method wasn't about skill—it was about elbowing open the poor defender and forcing the shot.

Link wasn't having any of it, though. Hill in his later years had a rock-solid lower body, not so easy to budge. And Link was crafty enough to brace a hand on Brockman's waist, making it hard for him to generate power. Using the experience of an NBA veteran to handle a youngster was, frankly, a bit unfair.

But Brockman didn't know that. He thought he was the one bullying Link.

Brockman shoved backward twice and found the results mediocre. He tried to spin for a drive, but realized Link had already cut off his path.

"Damn it!" Brockman lost patience. Everyone was watching. This possession—he had to score whether the opportunity was there or not. If he passed, wouldn't that prove he was scared?

So Brockman turned and launched a fadeaway jumper. But a fadeaway wasn't his strength. And at 2.01 meters, his height and reach offered no advantage against Link.

Link raised his arms high, barely even jumping, and still managed to disrupt Brockman's shot.

Sure enough, "Big White Bear's" shot clanked off the rim. Another failed possession!

His teammates shot Brockman looks of disgust. Everyone thought he should have passed just now. If you're going to force it, at least make the bucket. Miss and still refuse to pass—who do you think you are, "Little Flying Warrior"?

"You're as soft as a cupcake, Jon," Link said, not forgetting to spit some trash talk at Brockman before running forward to join the offense.

In his past life, Link wasn't exactly a "good guy." He wouldn't go looking for trouble, but if someone came at him, he wasn't cowardly enough to run.

Because Link always believed respect was mutual. If you don't respect me, why should I respect you?

Upshaw respected Link, so Link was naturally gentle with him. Brockman didn't respect Link, so he got what he deserved.

After pushing forward, Link calmly sank a mid-range jumper, leading the team to a 7-0 run.

Threes, mid-range shots, defense, slick passes... Conner was very satisfied with Link's performance today. Looked like that fall the day before yesterday had actually knocked some sense into him.

The bald coach rubbed his chin. Maybe in the next game, he could increase that Chinese player's playing time.

If Link could keep up this form, he might just become Blue Team's X-factor.

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