Chapter 30: Franklin

After practice that day, Bellman asked the team to stay behind for a meeting.

He explained the situation to everyone, stating that they were required to play a warm-up game against a designated opponent, and only by winning that match could they officially join the CIF San Francisco League.

"That's not fair."

"Those liars at the CIF, we've been playing so well."

"Why do we need to play another game?"

"Who is our opponent?"

The team erupted in a cacophony of complaints and questions. Once things quieted down slightly, Bellman said, "Director Liu informed me that our designated opponent is Fremont High School in Oakland."

As soon as he said it, the room went silent. No one spoke, and several players wore expressions of clear anxiety. The training hall suddenly fell into a stifling silence, making the late afternoon sun slanting into the YMCA gym feel strangely cold.

Gan Guoyang broke the silence. "Even though this is unfair, there's nothing we can do. We just have to go out there and win the game."

"Big Bear" Wu Zhixiong interjected, "But why did they pick Fremont? A school from Oakland—this is intentional. Are we actually going to have to play on their turf?"

Bellman nodded, confirming it would be an away game at Fremont's Tiger Stadium.

"I've heard that people die at Fremont High every year."

"Every semester, actually. And often right on the basketball court."

"Just last year, there was a dispute during a game, and someone was shot dead."

The team started whispering amongst themselves again. Gan Guoyang leaned over to talk to Chen Xing, trying to learn more about the situation at Fremont High.

Bellman cut off the discussion. "I know this won't be an easy game, and I know there is a certain level of danger involved. I've heard that white schools in Oakland don't dare to beat Fremont, especially at Tiger Stadium; if they win, they might not make it out safely. Therefore, if any of you are afraid to play this game, you may ask for leave or quit the team. I won't blame you."

The gym fell silent once more. No one spoke, and no one stepped forward to quit.

Bellman thought they might be embarrassed in front of their peers, so he added, "How about this: those who have decided to stay and play can leave now. If you have other thoughts, you can stay and talk to me privately. Or you can find me another time in private."

As soon as he finished, the players seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. They all rushed to the locker room to change and grabbed their bags, preparing to leave the gym. Only Gan Guoyang and Xu Xun remained to put in extra work as usual.

"I'm staying to train, not to quit," Gan Guoyang remarked.

"Me neither," Xu Xun added.

But what about the others? Did no one want to quit?

Bellman stood at the door and shouted, "Is no one quitting? Are you sure?"

There had been eleven players initially, but two quit after the first practice, leaving the team at nine. Bellman had been prepared to lose two more; with seven, he could still manage a rotation. To his surprise, no one wanted to quit. Everyone left the gym joking and laughing, heading home or out to have fun.

Bellman waited at the gym entrance for a while longer to see if anyone would return; after all, with everyone around earlier, they might have been afraid of being seen by their classmates.

Just then, Gan Guohui came running back. Bellman thought he was returning to quit, but the boy rushed headlong into the locker room instead.

"Why are you back?"

"Oh, I forgot my stuff!"

"Damn it, I thought you were quitting."

"What? I would never quit. No one is quitting. Mr. Bellman, we might be rookies, but we aren't cowards."

With that, Gan Guohui scurried away.

Bellman watched him leave, feeling an inexplicable sense of being moved. Among the nine players, Gan Guohui was likely the weakest in terms of skill. His running, jumping, conditioning, technique, and game awareness were all subpar—even poor—from a professional standpoint. The only things he could claim were a decent jump shot and the weight to hold his ground in the paint; that was it.

They shared the same surname and the same heritage, yet the gap between them was immense. He never got playing time; he was nothing more than a benchwarmer and a cheerleader.

Recently, the training intensity had increased as Bellman pushed everyone harder. Several times, Gan Guohui had trained until he was physically ill; having never received professional athletic training before, he clearly struggled to keep up. Yet, even so, he gave his all in every practice and was never late or absent. His persistence and optimism gave Bellman a deeper, fresher understanding of these teenagers.

Undoubtedly, Gan Guoyang, as the team leader, played a significant role. He was the source of everyone’s confidence; as long as he was there, everyone felt they had the backing to win. Because of this, Bellman wanted the team to win this game even more. Over the weekend, he made a call to Mr. Kapp-Lavin to learn more about Fremont High.

Kapp-Lavin knew the Bay Area basketball scene well and was shocked to hear the San Francisco League's decision.

"This is absolutely an act of suppression. Beiqiao High's performance certainly qualifies them for the San Francisco League; they are already the talk of the town."

"And why not find a neutral site? Why go to Fremont's home court? You’re going into Oakland. Fremont is very strong; they have players capable of reaching the NBA."

"Who?"

"Henry Turner. A sophomore, 6-foot-6, a forward—one of the best wing players in Oakland. The other kids are talented too. They grew up on the streets of Oakland, and their style is tough. They are absolutely not to be trifled with."

Kapp-Lavin was worried about the fate of the Beiqiao Water Clock team, pointing out that their roster still had major flaws.

"You lack talent. You only have Gan standing out from the crowd. Your strategy is fine, but it only works against average teams. Against Fremont, you will have a very, very hard time, especially on the road."

"I agree. I've been applying to the school since August, hoping to bring in another talented forward. But so far, I haven't found anyone. There are very few Chinese-American players in San Francisco who can really play; they say the Asian players are concentrated in Los Angeles."

"Must it be a Chinese-American player? What about other ethnicities?"

"Of course, that's fine. Beiqiao High is not strictly a Chinese school; they have Black students too. Just no white students."

Kapp-Lavin pondered for a moment. "Bobby, you know that if a talented player transfers in the middle of a semester, it usually means there are some other issues involved."

Bellman shrugged. "I understand. Many talented problem students get kicked from school to school, wasting their potential."

"Exactly. I know a kid, a junior this year. He's already been to three schools—a real troublemaker. If Beiqiao is willing to take him, he might be able to help you."

"Introduce me to him. I can try. At Beiqiao High, basketball is the priority right now."

Just like that, Kapp-Lavin introduced Bicker Franklin to Bellman. The next morning, Bellman drove to Hunter's Point in the western part of San Francisco. In a dilapidated street court located in the most terrifying and dangerous slum in the Bay Area, he saw Franklin—soaring over an opponent's head for a thunderous dunk.

Bellman's appearance drew the suspicion of the entire neighborhood. When he explained his intentions to Franklin, the boy wore a strange expression.

"Beiqiao High? A Chinese school? Are you kidding me?"

The boy, sporting an afro and wearing a tattered brown T-shirt, carried an air of arrogant indifference. After speaking, he turned back to the court to continue playing one-on-one—for a dollar a game.

"We will provide you with a scholarship, a path to college, and... you will become the team's second-in-command, working with Gan to defeat our opponents."

The first two conditions were expected, but the third point stung Franklin. He threw the ball down and pointed at Bellman. "I will only be the absolute core of any team, not some damn second-in-command! Gan? What kind of fool is that? That Chinese guy? Bullshit!"

"Let me meet your mother. I want to talk to her. Also, if you don't believe it, I can bring you to face off against Gan. Give it a try; you've surely heard his name lately. If you're up for it, how about I buy you lunch? Is there a good restaurant around here—your favorite one?"

Franklin hesitated for a moment, named a restaurant, and got into Bellman's car.