Chapter 24: Fury

Bellman was as abrasive as ever, addressing everyone as "ladies." For a high school basketball team, a touch of roughness and ferocity can quickly establish a coach's authority among the players. Since the Chinese students were naturally well-behaved and obedient, Bellman found it effortless to step into his role and manage the squad.

However, once training began, problems surfaced. Bellman realized that among this group, the only one who could truly be called a basketball player was Gan Guo-yang. Chen Xing was barely half a player, and a Korean student accounted for another half; the rest were much like Gan Guo-yang—basketball enthusiasts who could play, but lacked any real competitive edge. And this was the best the North Overseas Chinese High School could do, cobbling together a mere 11 players—one short of a full roster, with no others to be found.

Bellman started by giving each player a physical assessment, followed by fundamental skill tests and a half-hour shooting drill, giving him a preliminary understanding of the situation. It was clearly grim; with such fundamental skills and athletic ability, even basic plays were impossible to execute. Fortunately, Bellman had prepared himself for this. Having worked for two months at the "Excel in Basketball" summer camp, he had practical experience in elevating the level of average basketball hobbyists. He devised a training plan aimed at forging a team style and combat effectiveness in a short period.

The Water Clock team’s first practice lasted until 6:00 PM. Three hours of drills left the players exhausted. Two of them quit on the spot afterward, dropping the roster from 11 to 9—not even enough for a 5-on-5 scrimmage. However, two remained to practice extra: Gan Guo-yang and the Korean senior, whose name was Xu Xun. Each took half the court—one shooting, the other working on post-up moves under Bellman's guidance.

Bellman knew that Gan Guo-yang’s post offense and defense would be the key to the team's success; he had to give him extra attention to refine his technique. As they trained, they chatted. Gan asked Bellman how he ended up coaching at North Overseas Chinese High School. Bellman replied that it was the school he had interviewed with that day. Gan was skeptical. "Really? Then why did you only show up today? We had no idea."

"Less talk! Your spin is still too slow. Your footwork—why is it floating? It needs to be more solid!" Bellman diverted the conversation, criticizing Gan’s post footwork for lacking stability.

Gan retorted, "It’s not a lack of stability; it’s flexibility. If I’m facing taller players in the paint, I must use agile footwork to create enough space for a shot." According to his own 2K-style projections, he would grow to about 6'10" (208 cm). In an era where heights were often inflated, this wasn't short, but he knew he would eventually face legitimate 7-footers; a combination of strength and agility was essential. Techniques like these—wide, shifty post moves—were the hardest to master, requiring immense balance and coordination, but if perfected, they could be used to score against any defender.

Bellman knew Gan had a point, but he insisted he start with the basics: using body strength, center of gravity, and his left arm to carve out space for a shot. "Even a genius must start with the fundamentals. You don't have to use them later, but you must know how. Use your ass to push! You’re not a delicate flower; stop protecting your backside!" Gan complied, knowing Bellman was building a foundation, and temporarily set aside the more advanced footwork.

What Gan didn't know was that Bellman had turned down a higher-paying job with a better environment at Palo Alto High School to coach here. It is rare for a coach to encounter a genius player in his lifetime, and in Bellman's eyes, Gan was a rough diamond he wanted to polish. Naturally, Bellman would never tell him this; he would be too embarrassed.

After an hour of extra practice, Gan took 100 long-range shots—the court had no three-point line, as the NCAA wouldn't introduce it until after 1986, and high school rules would follow even later. By 7:00 PM, the school’s rental time was up, and they had to leave. In the locker room, Gan noticed that the Korean teammate, Xu Xun, had changed into a t-shirt but didn't leave, heading instead to the second floor.

"Hey, aren't you going home? You've practiced long enough; rest is important." Xu had trained just as long as Gan, and his stamina was clearly excellent. Xu looked back, glanced at him, and walked upstairs without saying a word. "Why so quiet? Is your English worse than mine?"

For the next week, Gan followed his routine of class, practice, and extra drills. Under Bellman’s guidance, he solidified his foundation. Xu Xun also continued his extra training, disappearing to the second floor afterward every day. He was a man of few words, a "muffled gourd," speaking only when Bellman questioned him. His talent was average, his shooting decent, and his stamina incredible, but his technique was raw. During contact drills, he played aggressively, leading to several clashes with teammates. Each time, he remained silent, simply bowing his head when Bellman scolded him. Bellman lacked patience for him, but couldn't cut him; the team was already short-handed.

On Wednesday, the team held its first tactical session. Bellman built his system entirely around Gan Guo-yang. Offense relied on Gan in the low post, supplemented by perimeter cuts and Gan’s offensive rebounding—the highest priority. Defensively, Bellman spent two hours teaching zone defense, with Gan responsible for rim protection and rebounding. The session was, if not disastrous, painful to watch. The players were clumsy with details and coordination. Bellman felt more desperate than he had during his divorce. The only consolation was that Gan was sharp, learning quickly and even directing his teammates; his basketball IQ was clearly high.

With their first game on Saturday, Bellman finalized the starters. Gan was the undisputed center and core. The power forward was Wu Zhixiong, a 188cm Fujian native nicknamed "Big Bear." He had received some training in elementary school at a Chinatown camp, but lacked high-level talent and family support. Still, he had a decent frame and could work in the paint alongside Gan.

The role of point guard went to Chen Xing, who called himself the "Fastest Hand in Chinatown." His ball-handling and agility were adequate, but his ability to handle contact needed work. Bellman chose Xu Xun for shooting guard; he was the second-most athletic player on the team. However, his basketball IQ seemed low—he was a ball-hog who refused to pass or communicate. Bellman had no choice but to hold his nose and select him. As for small forward, a position requiring athleticism, Bellman couldn't find a suitable candidate and was pushing the school to recruit a talented player—preferably an athletic Black student.

On Thursday, they held their first 5v5 scrimmage. With only nine players, Bellman had to jump in, acting as both player and referee. It went poorly; with Gan on the floor, the opposing side couldn't organize an offense, couldn't get inside, and couldn't grab a rebound. Defense was equally porous, and Gan shot with near 100% accuracy in the paint. Eventually, the only one brave enough to challenge Gan was Xu Xun. After being blocked four or five times, he didn't give up. In a fast break, he charged too hard, collided with Gan in mid-air, and went flying, landing heavily and getting the wind knocked out of him.

Bellman rushed him to the locker room. As he removed Xu’s undershirt, he noticed bruises—purple and blue marks on his back that clearly weren't from basketball. Xu woke up, quickly put his shirt back on, and ignored Bellman’s protests to return to the court. Thankfully, he was unharmed; otherwise, the Water Clock team would have to rename themselves the "Funeral Bell" team.

On Friday, the pre-game practice was brief. Bellman knew a quality shift was impossible in such a short time, so he held a one-hour shooting drill and dismissed the team, needing to find some mental therapy for himself. He had never coached such a poor team. Gan, as usual, stayed behind. He was a gym rat who found joy in every moment on the court and possessed an untiring body.

As Gan hit shot after shot, Xu Xun, who had also stayed, shouted, "Ah Gan! I want to go one-on-one! Let's duel!" The ball bounced on the floor and rolled away. It was the first time Xu had spoken to Gan. Gan turned to look at him; on the boy's young face was a strange, grim expression of anger, as if Gan were a mortal enemy. Gan smiled. "Sure. I’ve been looking for someone to play bull with. I think you've got skills; let's spar."

Hearing the sudden praise, Xu’s expression became unnatural. The inexplicable anger seemed to lose its footing and slipped away from his face.