Milan, Olimpia Club training ground.
A sharp whistle pierced the screech of shoes in the arena; an intra-squad scrimmage was underway.
"Bang!"
Brian Scalabrine crashed heavily to the floor. Just moments before, he had tried to mark Kevin Garnett in the paint, but Garnett simply headed him aside, sending him flying out of bounds like a kite with a broken string.
"Rookie, you're as soft as mashed potatoes!" Garnett didn't even bother with trash talk, just looked at him incredulously, finding it somewhat absurd.
Sweating profusely, Scalabrine got up, didn't retaliate, and obediently ran back to his position.
Wiping the sweat from his chin, Scalabrine panted as he looked around. To his left was the muscular Ben Wallace, to his right was the tall and long-armed Garnett, and on the perimeter stood Artest and Pierce.
Surrounded by a group of "monsters" with explosive power and overflowing talent, he deeply felt a despairing gap. He was slow to run, couldn't jump high, and his slightly overweight physique made him stand out from the crowd, like an ordinary person who had accidentally wandered onto the wrong set and into a superhero fighting game.
He knew better than anyone that if things continued like this, he might be cut before the regular season even started.
On the sidelines, head coach Rick Carlisle watched this scene with a slight frown.
He turned to Lin Qi, who was sitting at the technical table next to him, flipping through a newspaper. "Boss, I've watched his training for a few days now. He's slow, his jumps aren't high, and his lateral movement is disastrous. He looks like a chubby high school geography teacher among this group. What exactly do you see in him?"
Lin Qi's gaze never left the newspaper in his hand, his tone extremely calm. "I value him because he's a 'normal person'."
Rick Carlisle paused for a moment.
"Our starting lineup and main rotation players are crammed with gangsters, street bullies, and paranoiacs. Talent and toughness are overflowing, and the locker room is at a dangerous tipping point." Lin Qi turned a page. "If I add another arrogant, physically imposing guy who complains about playing time all the time to the very end of the bench, the locker room will explode sooner or later."
Lin Qi finally looked up and glanced at the chubby white man who had just been knocked down again. "He's a perfect niche addition. Good-tempered, not expensive, willing to do anything to stay in the league, and doesn't mind carrying bags and shoes for the starters. Most importantly, he's definitely a smart guy."
The moment the words were spoken, the situation on the field suddenly changed.
The tide turned. Scalabrine stopped wandering aimlessly in the low post and getting beaten up. The moment Chauncey Billups Billups dribbled into the defensive trap, Scalabrine suddenly moved up and set a solid screen at the top of the key.
The instant he blocked the shot, he didn't follow through; instead, he immediately turned and bounced outwards, retreating directly to the open space in the left corner, completely pulling Ben Wallace out of the penalty area.
Just when everyone thought he was going to catch the ball and shoot a three-pointer, Scalabrine flicked his wrist and delivered a concealed bounce pass, slipping it directly under Ben Wallace's arm and into the now completely empty paint area.
Gerald Wallace understood perfectly, cut to the basket, received the ball, and slammed it down with both hands!
"Good shot! Wait a minute." Rick Carlisle blew his whistle.
He looked at Scalabrine, who was standing in the corner panting heavily, and a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes. To be able to recognize one's own disadvantage in the blink of an eye, read the opponent's defensive formation, and make the most reasonable tactical choice... this second-round pick's basketball IQ and spatial awareness are truly impressive.
Rick Carlisle turned around, exchanged a glance with Lin Qi, and nodded. "I take back what I said earlier. He does have value in staying in this alliance."
Now that the value of this piece of the puzzle has been confirmed, it's the coaching staff's turn to work.
Rick Carlisle beckoned to Tim Grgurich, the lead assistant coach, and Mike Boyle, the lead strength and conditioning coach, who were sitting on the bench.
" Tim, Mike, this rookie is in your hands." Rick Carlisle pointed to Scalabrine on the court and succinctly gave his tactical instructions, "You guys develop a training program for him that will allow him to survive in the league."
Tim Grgurich strode up to Scalabrine.
" Brian, listen up. From today onwards, you don't need to post up, and you don't need to fight for rebounds with Ben and Kevin. That's a waste of your energy." Grgurich's voice was extremely authoritative. "You only have one task now. Go and memorize Coach Rick Carlisle's two-hundred-page playbook word for word! I want you to become the player on the court who never runs to the wrong position and can even remind others to move!"
Strength and conditioning coach Mike Boyle then stepped forward, pinched the flesh on Scalabrine's arm, and frowned.
"Those muscles..." Boyle looked at him with disdain and couldn't help but retort, "Are you really a professional basketball player?"
Scalabrine scratched his head awkwardly, not daring to reply. He knew his body fat percentage was somewhat embarrassing in front of these muscular monsters.
"For the next month, spend more time in the weight room after training," Boyle said coldly. "You need to build some muscle so you don't get sent flying by a single bump."
"And shooting."
A gentle voice came from the side. Shooting coach Chip Engelland strolled over slowly, a basketball in his hand and an encouraging smile on his face. Unlike the other two strict coaches, he always exuded a reassuring aura.
" Brian, your touch is actually quite soft, and you shot pretty well in college." Engelland handed the ball to Scalabrine, his tone calm. "But that's not enough. In the NBA, big men are much faster at closing down than in college. Your release is too long, making it easy to get blocked."
Engelland patted him on the shoulder. "Starting today, practice 500 catch-and-shoot three-pointers every day. We'll work together to improve your release speed. As long as you can maintain a three-point shooting percentage of 36% to 38%, and become a player who can stretch the floor in the corner, there will always be a place for you in this league."
Scalabrine looked at the group of coaches surrounding him and swallowed hard.
The road ahead seemed like a living hell, but an unprecedented light shone in his eyes. He knew that the team hadn't given up on him; on the contrary, they were trying to help him integrate into the team and find a way for him to make a living, based on his meager talent.
"Understood, coaches!" Scalabrine shouted.
"Very good, back on the court." Rick Carlisle clapped his hands on the sidelines. "Next round, practice the strong-side backflip!"