Chapter Sixteen: The Last One Standing

"For an inside player, two body parts are crucial. First, your glutes. When you possess strong glutes, you can maintain a stable base while establishing position, holding your ground firmly and preventing opponents from pushing you away easily."

"Second, your back. Once you’ve secured your position with your glutes and stabilized your base, you need to use your strong, flexible back to carve out space for your moves. At the same time, your back acts as a second set of eyes; you must learn to use it to sense the defense."

In late July, on the basketball court in the backyard of THE BEGINNING restaurant, Nate Thurmond was instructing Gan Guoyang on how to use his muscle strength to execute a post-up move. Both men kept their promises: one provided hands-on technical coaching, while the other brought delicious meals.

"Use the power of your glutes to push backward; let's see if you can shove me away," Thurmond said, bracing himself behind Gan Guoyang and urging him to exert force.

Gan Guoyang stuck his rear out and pushed back, but without being able to see, it wasn't easy to maintain his balance. He had to lean forward to keep from falling onto his backside. As a result, he ended up rubbing against Thurmond like a wild boar scratching against tree bark. Thurmond, however, stood like a rooted tree, completely unmoved.

Suddenly, Thurmond shifted his center of gravity forward, gave a sharp bump with his hip, and added a slight shove with his hands. Gan Guoyang stumbled and fell to the ground.

"Damn, is my strength still not enough?" Gan Guoyang stood up, looking frustrated.

"No, you're wrong. Your strength is actually quite good; it's just your center of gravity and technique that are flawed. Don't rush, this takes time," Thurmond corrected him.

Since the birth of basketball, the post-up has always been a unique "high-end skill," one hard to find in other sports. It requires you to play with your back to the defender, moving backward while unable to see the target, and finally delivering the ball into the hoop. Many talented athletes are naturally gifted at basketball—possessing great ball-handling skills and precise shooting—and are often stars in football or baseball as well, because those sports share common traits. But almost no one is born knowing how to post up. Because everything about posting up seems to defy basic athletic instincts, mastering it requires diligent practice.

"Adjust your center of gravity. You're leaning too far forward, which prevents your strength from converging. Again," Thurmond demanded sternly. He wasn't just messing around; he was taking this very seriously, having noticed that Gan Guoyang was improving at an incredible rate.

Gan Guoyang got up and tried again. This time, he shifted his weight back, but Thurmond pulled the "chair-pull" move, and Gan Guoyang landed on his backside once more.

"That's cheating!"

"You were just too careless. I told you to shift your weight back, and you just leaned back blindly? Fool, get up and keep going."

Gan Guoyang climbed up again, dusted off his clothes, and resumed the post-up stance. This time, he didn't rush to exert force. Instead, he leaned into Thurmond, searching for the right balance point where his weight and his explosive power could combine. When his feet were firmly planted and his body was angled backward without toppling over, he felt the moment was right.

He gathered all his strength, combined it with his body weight and the momentum of his dribble, and pushed backward in a rhythmic surge. Thurmond, the immovable boulder, actually shifted slightly, stepping back half a step and opening a gap.

Sensing the change in his back, Gan Guoyang’s heart leaped. He stepped inside with his right foot, gathered the ball, pivoted, and went up for a left-handed layup. But his pressure on Thurmond was clearly insufficient; Thurmond jumped simultaneously and swatted the layup away.

Gan Guoyang picked up the ball and tapped his own head, feeling annoyed. He had been so close to succeeding with the post-up.

"Good job, kid, but you're still not quite there," Thurmond said, though internally he thought, *This kid’s progress is truly astonishing.* If Gan Guoyang had been just a bit faster, or more experienced, and used his other hand to pin Thurmond, he might have made the shot. He had only been practicing here for two days, and he was already finding cracks in the defense of an NBA-level defensive legend who had been retired for five years.

"Let's go again," Gan Guoyang insisted, his temper rising—he was determined to score.

Thurmond shook his head and said, "Do you know how much a private coach like me costs per hour?"

Gan Guoyang replied, "My dad’s Crystal Sweet and Sour Pork—no one else in America can make it. It’s an equal exchange."

Thurmond was rendered speechless. The plate of Crystal Sweet and Sour Pork at noon was indeed divine; he mused that if THE BEGINNING had such a chef, it might not have gone out of business. Having enjoyed the meal, and admiring the young man's talent, Thurmond continued the one-on-one instruction.

The two played until the sun set. Thurmond finally reached his limit; his knees could no longer withstand such intense activity. Having been without systematic training for a long time, he was panting heavily, no longer the "under-the-basket juicer" who could drain the energy out of every opponent. Although Gan Guoyang was drenched in sweat, his stamina remained high. With Thurmond unable to continue, he stayed under the basket, practicing various pivot and scoring moves on his own. Thurmond had also taught him the Mikan drill to develop his touch around the rim, and Gan Guoyang tirelessly repeated these mechanical, monotonous movements.

Thurmond grabbed a beer, called his wife to explain the situation, and returned to the sidelines. Watching the boy under the summer sunset, he recalled himself at Gan Guoyang's age in Akron, spending entire summers on his home court honing his skills. He would constantly practice 12-15 foot jumpers and work on his low-post footwork. But by the time school started, aside from a significant improvement in his shooting, his post-up game had seen little growth. Back then, he was just like Gan Guoyang—muscular but lean—yet his coordination was average, and his offense felt awkward when facing defensive resistance. He preferred defense, stopping his opponents. That was why he preferred playing center over power forward.

Now, "Big Nate," after 14 years in the league, had been retired for five years. The new boy was dreaming of the NBA, his journey yet to begin.

As darkness fell, Thurmond had to head home, and Gan Guoyang had to leave. At parting, Thurmond patted Gan Guoyang on the shoulder. "Gan, maybe one day you really will make it to the NBA. Remember this: a real basketball game is a war, and the paint is the most intense battlefield within that war. A center must fight like a warrior every single second on the court—it's kill or be killed. If you don't have the resolve to battle your opponent for three hours, then no matter how good your post-up technique is, you aren't a qualified inside player, and you aren't a true center. This is the most important lesson of my training course. Remember it."

Gan Guoyang nodded. "I understand. A center should die in the paint if they have to, right?"

"Exactly. But it's better to die a little later."

"I won't die. I'm going to be the last one standing."