Chapter 12: Intense Fear

Player tunnel, Eric Fletcher caught up with Tang Bei and shared some good news: both the Nuggets and the Rockets had extended tryout invitations to him.

In the home team's locker room, Brian Lashley grimaced through the pain as he pulled off his jersey, revealing numerous dark purple bruises across his chest and back—an alarming sight.

“God!” the team doctor exclaimed, instinctively making the sign of the cross. “Brian, you’re truly lucky to have survived tonight!”

“Ouch!” Brian Lashley winced as he pressed on a bruise over his chest, the pain intensifying sharply, causing him to gasp.

“Fuck!” he cursed in frustration.

This was the result of his efforts to avoid direct confrontation with that monstrous beast. He had mostly maneuvered around the front and side defenses. Yet, Tang Bei’s attacks were all near the basket, and with the team employing a double-team strategy under the rim, many clashes were unavoidable. Over the course of the night, he had been slammed and thrown down at least six times. It was sheer luck that none of his bones were broken.

“No way. In Game 2, I need to keep my distance from that monster,” he resolved silently.

“I feel like I’m dying. My bones are shattered,” Derek Guevin, the starting power forward weighing just 91 kilograms, leaned against the locker looking paler and more miserable than Lashley.

“I feel like I’m wrestling a lion. Sorry, I’m afraid I won’t be able to play in the next game,” a frightened backup big man admitted.

“What are we going to do for the next game?” Philip Sanders looked over his big men, each bearing multiple bruises and low spirits.

Though the Catbirds had won the game decisively, it was a bittersweet victory. The locker room atmosphere was grim, morale low.

On April 3rd, Game 2 of the CBA Finals commenced.

Coincidentally, it was the day of the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament semifinals, so the CBA games attracted little attention.

The Catbirds’ big men remained sluggish throughout, almost avoiding any physical contact with Tang Bei, evading all body checks. Philip Sanders’ strategy of double-teaming under the basket faltered.

Tang Bei scored 35 points, grabbed 18 rebounds, blocked 6 shots, and made 1 steal—but he also committed 6 turnovers, 5 fouls, and 5 violations.

Still, he dominated the Catbirds’ interior on both ends, leading his team to victory and leveling the series.

On the 4th, both teams relocated to Miami.

On the 5th, Game 3 began.

The NCAA tournament had concluded, with the finals set for the 6th, leaving a rare open slot that evening.

However, the broadcast was limited to regional TV, not nationwide, drawing only local interest in the Miami metro area.

That night, the Heat played at home against the Cavaliers, so local attention was further divided.

The arena, seating over three thousand, was only half full, about a thousand fans, a modest turnout better than previous games but far behind the Heat’s usual crowds.

Meanwhile, in the arena’s parking lot, Eric Fletcher was arguing heatedly with his younger brother, Mark Fletcher.

To prevent sibling rivalry when they inherited their father’s agency, the elder Fletcher had divided responsibilities: the eldest would manage the domestic market, the younger the overseas market.

This arrangement favored the elder brother, as NBA players primarily came from the domestic NCAA system; there were few foreign players.

As a result, their relationship had soured, especially after their father’s death in ’89, leading to multiple disputes.

Yet ironically, Eric had not fared as well as Mark in recent years, lacking any top-tier players under his management.

Mark, on the other hand, had signed quality international stars like Sabonis, Divac, and Matsiulionis.

This time, Mark came to confront Eric because Eric had broken the rules by signing an international player, which infuriated him.

“Mark, I told you, Tang Bei was signed by me here in America. He’s not an overseas player,” Eric retorted angrily.

“He’s not American and didn’t attend college here. He counts as an overseas player,” Mark insisted.

Then, growing more resolute, Mark said, “Eric, you broke Dad’s rules, so I can start working domestically too.”

“No way,” Eric snapped.

“I can, because you broke the rules first,” Mark persisted.

Not wanting to sever ties with his brother, Eric relented slightly. “Mark, what exactly do you want?”

Then he warned, “Don’t even think about going after Tang Bei, or we’re done.”

Mark smirked. “Eric, I just came from New York. Your Ferrari looks nice.”

“Mark?” Eric glared furiously. That bastard had his eyes on his brand-new Ferrari, which had cost him $150,000.

At 7:30, the starting lineups were announced.

Catbirds: Brian Lashley, Derek Guevin, Mark Davis, Jalen Jackson, David Rivers.

Seaweed Team: Tang Bei, Bill Younger, David Miles, Philip Doron, Tom Morris.

Only scouts were present; no NBA general managers attended.

At 8:00, the game began.

Jump ball, Seaweed Team possession.

Tang Bei did not immediately step into the paint but instead hovered around the left wing.

This was a tactic Coach Mias Lans had pondered for two days.

Lashley was somewhat unsettled; in Games 1 and 2, Tang Bei had charged straight into the paint, prompting Lashley to shadow him from the front.

Now, with Tang Bei wandering unpredictably on the left wing, Lashley had no choice but to follow.

Seaweed Team’s power forward Bill Younger, who also played some center, shifted to the right elbow area, where Catbirds power forward Derek Guevin was positioned.

Suddenly, Tang Bei exploded with a cut to the basket.

His first step was explosive, crossing past Lashley, who was closer to the paint. By the time Lashley reacted and tried to chase him, Tang Bei had already taken a second step.

“Ball!” shouted point guard Tom Morris from the perimeter, following the playbook, lobbing the ball toward the left front side of the hoop.

Derek Guevin immediately turned to defend the basket.

Tang Bei surged into the paint, leaping with his body extended, catching the ball mid-air with both hands, then forcefully slammed it down.

“Screech!”

Guevin skidded to a halt under the basket, leaving two skid marks on the floor.

“Bang!”

With a thunderous dunk, Tang Bei’s massive frame hung on the rim, swinging forward.

“Thud!”

Weighing only 91 kilograms, Derek Guevin groaned as Tang Bei’s impact struck his lower back, sending him flying backward two meters. He crashed onto the floor and slid uncontrollably.

“Wow!”

The brutal, power-driven dunk electrified over a thousand fans, flooding their senses with adrenaline. They erupted into cheers and shouts.

Bald announcer Baron Ross yelled in excitement, “Alley-oop dunk! Tang Bei finishes over Derek Guevin on his very first attack!”

Portly announcer Chuckly Hans equally thrilled, exclaimed, “This Chinese giant is terrorizing the Catbirds—instilling fear on the court, intense fear!”

“Intense fear! Intense fear…” The arena was small, and though Hans’s commentary was meant for the broadcast, nearby fans overheard and echoed the phrase, their voices swelling until the entire crowd was chanting.

Suddenly, the Seaweed Team’s home-court energy surged.

“Tang, great job!” Coach Mias Lans shouted with excitement.

Tang Bei’s strength lay in his interior offense. The Catbirds lacked a heavy inside presence and relied on fronting rather than direct defense, making it easy for Tang Bei to find good position inside.

The coach had deliberately pulled Tang Bei away from the paint, encouraging him to attack on the move—not just to break the Catbirds’ double-team but also to conserve energy.

Conserving energy was the main goal. Constant paint play was exhausting; the coach worried Tang Bei might not last in later games.

But the strategy paid off immediately—Guevin clutched his back and couldn’t get up.

“Ouch!” Guevin felt as if his spine had snapped, tears welling from the pain.

His right chest also throbbed fiercely—likely a broken rib—leaving him unable to move.

Yet oddly, he felt a sense of relief. He would no longer have to face that beast on the court or fear being crushed.

“Medic!” Coach Philip Sanders shouted loudly.

The game paused. Bald announcer Baron Ross remarked, “Derek Guevin is injured—the second Catbirds big man hurt by Tang Bei. John Beal, injured in Game 1, still hasn’t returned.”

He added, “Guevin is too light to handle physical play; he’s better suited as a small forward and has always played that position.”

Chuckly Hans explained, “The Catbirds have no reliable power forward. Their starter Rex is out with a severe injury. Guevin’s defense and rebounding are decent, so he was moved to the four spot. Honestly, it’s surprising he lasted until Game 3 before getting hurt.”

Baron Ross nodded, “Tang’s power is overwhelming. Without a strong-bodied big man, no one can stop his drives. Injury was inevitable.”

Chuckly Hans shook his head, “A big man with size, speed, explosiveness, and impact—whether in the CBA or NBA—there’s never been a center quite like Tang. The closest comparison in the NCAA is Shaquille O’Neal, the current top prospect in this year’s NBA draft.”