Chapter 23: The Art of Turning Away

The next day, Yuhang and Minghan met up as planned at the basketball court. Their second monthly exam was just a week away. In the past, Minghan would have been glued to his books in the classroom, refusing to come out. But now, he wondered if spending his youth as a bookworm was too great a loss. Studying was important, but basketball was essential too.

Besides, these days, the Lakers and Celtics were battling it out in the NBA Finals.

The Lakers’ star player was Kobe, who had already won four rings and reached the Finals three years in a row. Minghan hadn’t been watching basketball for long, but he’d taken a particular liking to Kobe. Take this season, for example—Kobe played with an injured finger, yet he still made seven buzzer-beaters in a single season using just seven healthy fingers. Unbelievable!

During Game 6 of the Western Conference Finals, when the score was neck and neck, Kobe stepped up again, sinking a midrange shot that clinched the game. Then he patted the opposing coach on the backside, grinning, “Hey! You can’t stop me!”

So, these days, Minghan was keeping a close eye on the Finals. After five games, the Lakers were down 2–3 but fought back in Game 6. Now, only the last game remained, which just happened to be held on the same day as their second monthly exam.

But after the exam, there should be just enough time to catch the final quarter. For all the school’s basketball fans, that was nothing short of a blessing.

“Minghan, you sang really well last night! I bet a lot of girls will be casting you admiring glances now!” Yuhang teased.

Minghan smiled awkwardly. Just a few days ago, he had sworn to everyone that he’d sing a rock song by Teacher Wang Feng. No one knew why he changed his mind at the last minute—well, perhaps only two people did.

“You know, Yuhang, back in junior high, all I ever thought about was studying. Stuff like falling in love felt way out of reach for me…”

Though Minghan always joked about Zhang Xiaozhen being his goddess, he had his own boundaries. At least for his junior high years, he hadn’t considered getting a girlfriend.

Yuhang didn’t argue. Instead, he said, “Let’s drop all that nonsense for now. Today, let’s really work on our post-up game.”

Post-up game?

Yuhang continued, “There are two main types of post moves: low post and mid post. This is a killer move for many stars. Players like Kobe and Duncan both have beautiful low-post techniques. In street games and competitive matches, when the floor is spaced out, those with post-up skills handle the ball more easily and with greater variety!”

He picked up a basketball, turned his back to Minghan, and, using quick footwork, backed his way toward the basket before spinning for a graceful fadeaway jumper.

“Beautiful!” The entire sequence flowed in one motion, full of elegance.

“Kobe, Garnett, Nowitzki—when they use this move, they’re nearly unstoppable.”

Recently, Minghan had watched a lot of highlight reels, mostly of Jordan and Kobe. He’d noticed a pattern: the more skilled the player, the simpler and smoother their moves. For these stars, technique had become second nature.

Minghan grabbed the ball and began practicing Yuhang’s move: back to the basket, then a spin and a jump shot. At first, he couldn’t even aim for the rim, but as he repeated the motion, his excellent shooting touch gradually returned.

Yuhang grumbled from the sidelines, “Damn, this move is tailor-made for you tall guys. One-on-one, it’s almost always a mismatch!”

Shooting is all about creating space. In well-coached teams, there are elaborate plays designed to free up shooters. But stars have to create their own space. Kobe’s turnaround fadeaway allows him to shoot over taller defenders—just look at how he played against Durant this year. McGrady used his height and wingspan for pull-up jumpers, while Iverson’s speed and handles left defenders in the dust…

Soon, Minghan’s shooting form was looking solid, and his accuracy kept climbing.

Just then, another guy watching nearby came over with a grin. “Hey man, how about a game of one-on-one? It’s boring playing by yourself.”

In basketball, one-on-one is called “streetball.”

The guy’s name was Zhang Ze, a ninth grader. He’d watched some of the eighth-grade games and naturally recognized Minghan. Word was, Minghan was a newbie, having only played for less than two months.

From what he’d seen, Minghan mostly scored with catch-and-shoots. He made a few good passes, but Zhang Ze figured it was mainly because his teammates moved well.

Yuhang, playing on another court, noticed what was happening and shouted, “Go for it! There’s nothing to worry about.”

Minghan had been about to decline—after all, Zhang Ze was a year older. If Minghan won, wouldn’t the other guy lose face? But after hearing Yuhang, Minghan’s fighting spirit was stirred. “Thank you for the match, senior!” he called out.

Minghan started from the free-throw line. He made the shot and gained the first possession.

All that practice had paid off—he could attack off the dribble now, though his moves still lacked variety.

He crossed the ball from side to side, and as Zhang Ze reached in for a steal, Minghan drove left.

Zhang Ze, realizing he’d been beaten on the first step, hurried under the basket—he wasn’t about to give up an easy layup. But Minghan hadn’t planned to go inside anyway. Feeling increasingly confident in his shot, he pulled up from the left elbow and scored.

His moves were smooth—nothing like a beginner!

Zhang Ze had no idea how much Minghan had invested in practice. Especially after watching “Slam Dunk,” Minghan had been deeply influenced by Sakuragi. In the final game, Sakuragi used his weakest offensive weapon: the midrange jumper.

Sakuragi’s secret was simple—countless hours spent alone, shooting. Twenty thousand shots had given him remarkable muscle memory.

Minghan didn’t know how many shots he’d taken himself, but it was certainly no small number!

When you truly love something, you’ll put in the effort.

Zhang Ze was clearly dissatisfied. In one-on-one, the player who scores keeps the ball. He bounced the ball back to Minghan—bring it on!

Minghan didn’t hold back. He drove, then smoothly posted up, spun, and made another shot.

Even Minghan was surprised by his own shooting touch today—was he channeling the spirit of Kobe?

Zhang Ze was stunned. Newbie? This guy was no beginner—was he kidding? If they kept playing, he’d lose all his dignity.

He laughed awkwardly, making Minghan a bit uneasy. “Hey, little bro! I’ve got something to do. Let’s play again next time!”

And with that, Zhang Ze rushed off the court, leaving Minghan unsatisfied.

“He ran off?” Minghan scratched his head. “Was I too ruthless?”