Chapter Fifty: It Was Not My Intent

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…That game left a deep impression on me. At the start of the second half, Agan came over and said he only scored seven points in the first half because he didn’t want to. I told him that was just self-comforting. He said no, it was a warning for me. I was only fifteen then, and I thought, damn, I’m in trouble. Usually, I don’t pay much attention to trash talk—most of it is just bragging or nonsense, a way to vent, nothing serious. But Agan was different. Every word he said was carefully crafted, part of a vast trap, a clever mechanism triggering it. Of course, I only realized this much later, and Agan was just sixteen at the time. Honestly, if Agan had run for mayor against me in 2008, I would have stepped aside to be his assistant, helping him rise to governor or even higher.

—Excerpt from a 2017 interview with Kevin Johnson after finishing his term as Sacramento’s mayor.

Although Guoyang Gan’s basketball career was short, his exposure to the sport was not. From the moment he truly began playing, Gan used his intellect to full advantage, not relying solely on his bio-warrior-like physique.

Besides psychological warfare through trash talk, Gan explored his own playing style game after game. Many players don’t start seriously considering their style until after age twenty or even twenty-five. Most young players play according to their imagination, preferences, talent, or coach’s instructions.

For example, a player might like Magic Johnson’s flashy passing and fancy dribbling and tries to emulate that on the court. Yet the position best suited to him might be center, with a defensive, blue-collar style. Or a player might be assigned shooting guard by a coach focusing on scoring, then later, under a different coach, find his true talent and style as a point guard.

This requires long-term accumulation and exploration, deep reflection on one’s skills and career, and some luck in meeting a mentor.

Gan Guoyang was special. His self-reflection far exceeded that of most high schoolers, and his observation and understanding of the game were far more detailed than most players’.

In his early days, when his offensive skills were underdeveloped, Gan made excellent use of offensive rebounds—simple and brutal but highly effective. Over time, he realized that excessive focus on offensive rebounds hurt transition defense, exposing the team to fast breaks, and sometimes lowered efficiency, making them vulnerable against disciplined teams.

So Gan never developed a fanatic obsession with offensive boards like Moses Malone. He adjusted according to circumstances and opponents, grabbing key rebounds to maximize efficiency and conserve energy.

Defensively, besides creating an atmosphere of “I will block every shot you take,” Gan devised defensive strategies based on actual situations. He understood you can’t block every opponent’s shot but can disrupt every offensive attempt effectively.

He prioritized key defenders, sometimes allowing certain players to score when necessary, paid close attention to rebounding, and was skilled at directing teammates’ positioning. Where his reach fell short, his teammates compensated. His eyes and mind operated faster than anyone else’s.

Gan even participated in formulating team tactics and strategies, exerting strong influence on Coach Bellman.

Before the game against the Dragons, Gan and Bellman discussed how to approach the match. Bellman believed the Dragons were fast, so the Water Clock team should slow the tempo, use zone defense to contain their offense, then rely on Agan and Franklin to break through.

This was Water Clock’s most-used strategy, fitting their players’ characteristics and familiar to everyone.

But Gan saw things differently. He noted a key difference: Kevin Johnson. This diminutive dynamo’s driving ability was unstoppable for most high school zones; neither Chen Xing nor Xu Xun could contain him.

Water Clock’s perimeter defense was always weak against speedy guards—their footwork was too slow.

Gan had to plug leaks and, to some extent, sacrifice full interior protection. Zone defense would fail then.

Therefore, they abandoned zone defense, switching to man-to-man. Gan and Xu Xun teamed up to suppress Johnson, denying their leader any space.

Johnson wasn’t a traditional point guard; he needed to score to lead the team’s furious offense. Without his scoring, even many assists wouldn’t help as much. That was his style.

Abandoning the zone meant Water Clock had to match the Dragons in speed and offense—no slow, grinding half-court battles.

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After some thought, Bellman agreed, accepting Gan’s plan and committing to it.

The first half went well: Water Clock scored 40 points by halftime—their highest ever in a half.

Though the Dragons’ offense seemed smooth, without Johnson’s explosive play, their attack lacked punch. They were suppressed by Water Clock throughout, trailing by two or three points and feeling frustrated.

Strong and fast Franklin scored 20 points in the half, becoming the Dragons’ coach’s biggest headache.

In the locker room at halftime, the Dragons’ coach repeatedly ordered tighter coverage on Franklin, determined not to let him score easily again.

They completely overlooked Gan Guoyang, Water Clock’s top scorer, assuming he was off his game or that their defense was sufficient.

Gan was merely biding his time, deciding it was better to strike decisively at the start of the second half.

The third quarter—the first of the second half—is often the most dynamic and decisive period.

The first half serves as a probing phase to find rhythm; halftime allows recovery and tactical adjustments based on strengths and weaknesses. Whoever adapts better then can deliver a fatal blow.

This phase often sees the fiercest battles. If teams are evenly matched, the suspense lasts until the end.

Gan didn’t want to leave it to chance. He had already figured out the Dragons’ defensive patterns.

After the inbound, Gan received the ball at the top of the arc while Franklin posted low.

They had run this play several times in the first half, with high-low coordination allowing Franklin to attack the basket repeatedly.

This time, the Dragons collapsed their defense, but Gan didn’t pass; without hesitation, he pulled up for a long-range jump shot and scored.

The shot surprised the Dragons—they hadn’t expected him to shoot from outside.

After scoring, Gan taunted Johnson: “Didn’t expect me to shoot from out here? And you’re a guard who doesn’t seem to shoot much.”

Gan seized every chance to pressure Johnson.

On the sidelines, Bellman watched Gan’s shooting, reminded of Lambeau, who also liked drifting outside to shoot.

But Lambeau was lazy; Gan was precise and strategic.

When Gan hit three consecutive long-range shots from almost the same spot, the Dragons’ coach lost his composure.

How could this big guy shoot so accurately? He had to call a timeout to change defensive tactics.

But what could they do? Big men shooting from outside was rare in the 1980s.

Occasional shots were tolerable—let them shoot, how could they kill me with that?

But with Gan’s form, he really could kill you with his shooting.

The Dragons’ center had to guard him tightly.

Tight defense brought new problems—Gan had decent ball-handling and driving skills.

Years of dribbling practice weren’t wasted; at 6’9”, he could bring the ball down easily without much risk of being stolen.

His strong body allowed him to bulldoze to the basket even without flashy moves, scoring layups or drawing fouls.

Like a bulldozer, he charged through the middle of the paint, scoring layups despite triple coverage.

Referees called multiple fouls; Gan stepped to the free-throw line and scored consecutively—in just four minutes, he had racked up 14 points.

This sudden scoring spree gave Water Clock a 10-point lead, tipping the balance rapidly in their favor.

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The Dragons’ coach shook his head on the sidelines—he had underestimated the situation.

High school players’ tactical awareness is limited, and some lack ability.

So when facing a tricky, talented player like Gan, coaches suffer headaches.

The best remedy: having a similarly gifted player on your own team.

The Dragons’ talent undoubtedly lay with Kevin Johnson.

But in the second half, Xu Xun continued to doggedly guard Johnson like a madman, while Gan lurked like a wolf nearby, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Johnson played with great frustration and near collapse. During one possession, unable to bear Xu Xun’s tight defense, he elbowed Xu away, sending him out of bounds.

The referee called an unsportsmanlike foul on Johnson. Both teams stayed calm, avoiding conflict. The Dragons were penalized with two free throws and possession; Gan stepped to the line to keep scoring.

He had already scored 23 points and showed no signs of slowing down—in fact, he grew more aggressive.

Gan’s jump shot from high post finally missed, but he immediately crashed the boards, grabbed the rebound amid three Dragons players, and quickly put up a close-range jumper.

His fluid, seamless moves left the defense no time to react.

“25 points. Guess if I’ll hit 40, Kevin?” Gan continued his psychological assault on Johnson—the pressure had only just begun.

Water Clock teammates eagerly passed the ball to Gan, knowing it was the most efficient offense.

Franklin attracted defenders on a drive, then lobbed a high pass to the basket where Gan rose high for a two-handed slam dunk!

That was Gan’s 30th point. At halftime, he told his teammates he aimed for 40.

The lead stretched to 15 points. Under Gan’s fierce offensive onslaught, the Dragons couldn’t hold.

This was a complete defeat of star versus star. Water Clock could shut down your core player, but you couldn’t contain theirs.

High school teams often collapse under such pressure. To stop Gan, the Dragons began to swarm him, even fouling intentionally.

But after accumulating fouls, Gan simply went to the free-throw line to score—he practiced at least 200 free throws daily, no exceptions even on rest days.

In the final minute, Gan again stopped Johnson’s drive, secured the ball, and pushed it upcourt on a fast break.

Unchallenged, he glided through the lane for an easy, graceful dunk—perfectly capping his 40-point game.

Johnson stood hands on hips in the backcourt, his face a picture of despair. He hadn’t expected his casual boast to bring such painful retribution.

Yet after the game, Gan approached Johnson, shook his hand, embraced him, and said, “Sorry, I got in the zone and couldn’t stop. Forty points wasn’t my intention. You should practice your mid- and long-range shooting; that will make you harder to guard instead of getting double-teamed.”

Rivalries among young players on the court fade easily. Johnson hugged Gan back and said, “I know. Bring the championship back to Northern California.”

“I will. Glory belongs to Northern California.”

Their conversation felt like a battle for the Northern California championship, with the winner headed to Los Angeles for the state title.

They paid no mind to the other semifinalist.