Early August, Milan, Italy, at the training base of Olimpia Club.
"Bang!"
The basketball slammed heavily against the rim and bounced high into the air.
Gerald Wallace swung his arm in frustration. This was his fourth consecutive open mid-range shot missed. In a fit of temper, he ignored the shooting spot on the ground, accelerated towards the paint, leaped high like a wild beast unleashed, grabbed the rebound in mid-air, and slammed it into the basket.
The powerful dunk made the entire basketball hoop vibrate.
"Excellent, Gerald. Your explosiveness is truly top-tier in the entire league."
A gentle voice came from the sidelines as Chip Engelland and Mark Price walked onto the field together.
"But this is a shooting practice, not Slam Dunk Contest." Engelland pointed to the mid-range spot where Wallace had just been standing. "Go back to your position."
Wallace wiped the sweat from his face and walked back to the three-point line, panting heavily. As this year's first-round pick, he possessed extremely abnormal athleticism and a "reckless" playing style, which scouts jokingly called " Crash." But he himself knew that his shooting was extremely poor, and he even felt instinctively nervous when facing the basket.
"When you dunked just now, your body was relaxed and confident. But when you stood outside preparing to shoot, you were like a rusty machine."
Instead of letting him continue throwing, Engelland beckoned to the video analyst next to him to move a heavy laptop onto the technical table.
"Come and see your moves, Gerald." Engelland clicked on a slow-motion replay of the side view.
In the video, Wallace receives the ball and prepares to shoot.
"Look here." Engelland pressed the pause button and pointed at the screen with the tip of his pen. "Your starting point is too low, almost from your waist. This causes your entire shooting trajectory to be extremely long. Even more fatal is that as you raise the ball, its trajectory is not a straight line, but habitually deviates towards the midline of your body, eventually even moving to the left side of your head before releasing the shot."
Mark Price, who was standing nearby, picked up the conversation.
" Gerald, watch my move." Price stood next to Wallace and personally demonstrated a shooting motion. "Toes, knees, elbows, wrists, and finally to the basket—it should be a straight line. But look at yourself on the screen."
Price pointed to the still frame on the screen. "Your right toes are pointing outwards, your knees are tucked inwards, and your elbows are turned outwards. From bottom to top, your body's force line forms an extremely unstable zigzag shape before the release. This mechanism means that at the moment of release, your body must make extremely complex compensations and fine adjustments in mid-air."
"You can occasionally sink a shot thanks to your athleticism and hang time," Engelland, looking Wallace in the eye, his tone becoming very serious. "But in the high-intensity NBA regular season, this inaccurate shooting mechanism simply cannot be consistent. It will completely collapse as your stamina declines."
Wallace was stunned. In high school and college, coaches would only yell at him to "make the shot" or "go in and draw a foul." No one had ever dissected his movements like these two shooting coaches in Boston did, taking apart a clockwork mechanism.
"If you don't change this habit, Gerald, I can foresee your future career."
Price sighed, his tone carrying the warning of a veteran. "In the first few years, you'll score in the paint thanks to your youth and explosiveness. But slowly, the opponent's scouting reports will analyze you thoroughly. Defenders will deliberately give you two or even three steps, watching you intently, betting that you'll miss. Once, twice, three times... as you miss more and more shots, your confidence will completely collapse."
"You'll be afraid to receive the ball in an open position, and you'll deliberately refuse to shoot for fear of being substituted by the coach." Price's description is extremely harsh, but it is precisely a true reflection of the downfall of countless physically gifted men in the NBA. "By then, no matter how good your defense is or how aggressive your drives are, you'll just be a marginal player who drags down the team's spacing on offense."
Wallace's body trembled slightly. The arrogance that had been in his eyes slowly faded, replaced by a tense feeling as if his Achilles' heel had been struck.
"Then... how should I change it?" Wallace swallowed hard and asked in a low voice.
"That's why the boss sent me and Mark to Milan to keep an eye on you." Engelland patted Wallace on the shoulder, his tone softening.
" Boston doesn't need you to become Ray Allen, nor do we expect you to shoot ten three-pointers every game." Engelland offered an extremely pragmatic expectation that could completely transform Wallace's career. "Our goal is to shorten your starting path, correct your power 'curve,' and align your lower body and elbows with the basket."
"We hope that after this summer's system overhaul, you can stabilize your free throw percentage between 75% and 80%, maintain a 35% to 38% three-point percentage while attempting 3 to 5 three-pointers per game, and simultaneously raise your overall mid-range shooting percentage to over 48%."
Looking at Wallace, Engelland uttered the most enticing summary. "If you can do that, a 'versatile, high-energy wing' who can dominate on defense, doesn't clog up space on offense, and consistently hits corner threes, Gerald, the whole league will have a headache because of you."
35% three-pointers, 75% free throws.
These may not sound like the stats of a sharpshooter, but for a physical monster like Wallace, who is extremely aggressive on defense and has top-notch rim-attacking ability, his tactical value will undergo a qualitative leap if he can become a qualified spacing point.
"Okay." Wallace took a deep breath, completely suppressing the urge to dunk. He picked up the basketball from the ground and looked seriously at the two coaches, "Where do we begin?"
"Start from one foot directly below the basket," Price pointed to the area below the basket. "No jumping. Raise the ball, align it, engage your wrist, and find that perfect follow-through without any compensation. Do this a thousand times a day until your muscles forget what they used to be."
For the next two hours, no more dunks were heard in the training hall in Milan.
There was only the extremely monotonous sound of wiping the net, and the commands from Engelland and Price to constantly correct the details.