On his way home, Zhang Yang looked at the 92 shooting value he gained from two hours of practice and didn't mind it.
Being able to correct mistakes at the beginning of training, losing a hundred or eighty points in shooting value was very worthwhile.
Moreover, he got to know DeRozan and received guidance from him.
When it comes to playing basketball, the difference between having a coach and not having one is huge.
The first day of training felt like a good start.
After a day of training, he felt that the first task of the 'Gate of Trials' wasn't tough and he would definitely complete it before the tryouts for the new term at school.
At that thought, he was somewhat annoyed.
The school he attended, Hillside High School, which is also known as 'mid-mountain' high school, although academically very good, was a small private high school. The total number of students from 9th to 12th grade was just over a thousand and was not ranked as a first-tier school by CIF (California Interscholastic Federation).
Regarding the levels of high school sports in California, the original owner knew that the gap between first-tier schools and non-first-tier schools was huge in terms of overall sports strength. This was because the CIF system was very rigid; many states' high school leagues had a promotion and relegation system, but CIF did not. The larger the school size and the more students, the higher the school's level.
As a result, middle school students with athletic talent and aspirations hustled to get into first-tier schools since non-first-tier schools could hardly compete for talent.
The situation was the same with coaching resources; capable coaches would all head to first-tier schools.
When university scouts from prestigious teams were picking talents in California, they wouldn't set their sights on athletes from non-first-tier CIF schools.
But he had just finished 9th grade, the equivalent of high one, and still had 3 years left. Should he consider transferring in the future?
After fretting for a while, he decided not to worry about it for now. Thinking too much was useless; it was most important to improve his own abilities first.
…
After resting for the night, Zhang Yang woke up promptly at just after 6 a.m. the next morning, and like usual, waited until the 6:06 a.m. alarm went off before shutting it and getting out of bed.
'Indulging' in bed for a few minutes was a small joy for the original owner in the morning, which he chose to adopt.
He had trained for more than five hours the day before, and although the training wasn't very intense, it was extensive, so he was worried he would wake up feeling sore today.
But when he got out of bed, he didn't feel anything unusual.
He was thankful that the original owner had maintained regular exercise for the five years since he had come to America!
If you were to ask an American student about their impression of Chinese international students, they would tell you — academic and athletic excellence, muscles rippling under their clothes, and generally being nice, careful in their actions, even very "reasonable," able to endure a lot, but if you call them Japanese, they would pin you to the ground and beat you up, and even if they can't win, they would still fight...
The original owner was the 'standard Chinese international student' in the eyes of American students.
This also related to his mother's strict upbringing; she wouldn't allow him to become weak. During the first two years when the original owner moved to America, his mother had always urged him to exercise.
But the original owner found a sport he liked, which was baseball, and even though he wasn't good at it, he enjoyed it and developed a habit of exercising regularly.
After washing up, Zhang Yang took a kettle downstairs to the shop to get hot water, water that was boiled and then cooled.
As Chinese, his family still preferred to drink cooled boiled water and couldn't accept drinking raw water directly.
Today, his thrifty father got up early and had prepared breakfast for him in advance, putting it in a food container, and there was a lot of it.
"Dad, you're trying to stuff me to death here, I can't eat that much," he said.
Zhang Chen smiled and said, "Didn't you say you made a new friend who taught you to play basketball? So I prepared an extra portion as a thank you for teaching you."
Zhang Yang did talk about some of the basketball practice the evening before at dinner around 8 p.m., but he didn't expect his thrifty dad to take it to heart.
Just like in the original owner's memories, his dad was gentle and considerate...
He said, "Thanks, Dad, I didn't think that far. Yeah, reciprocal courtesy is very important. I'll be going now and will help out at noon."
Zhang Chen felt that his son was much more lively than before, had he perhaps made an outgoing and cheerful new friend? That would be a good thing.
If Zhang Yang knew what his dad was thinking as he walked out the door, he would absolutely have so many complaints he wouldn't know where to start.
…
Today, Zhang Yang was even more eager to get out of the house than yesterday, arriving a whole 10 minutes earlier.
There wasn't a soul in the park, but luckily, in the midst of summer, it had been bright since 5:30 AM, and now the sun had already begun to peek through. He wasn't afraid of encountering any ghosts, he stretched his body and continued his practice on driving layups.
The practice was tedious and had to 'resist instinct', training in a rhythm more suited for his body now, which was even more torturous. However, his love for basketball allowed him to endure these negative feelings.
And he could see his progress bar, so all in all, he quite enjoyed the training.
He thought he would be training alone for an hour, but before 7 AM, DeRozan showed up.
Zhang Yang was a bit surprised and greeted him warmly, "Yo, DeMar, you're pretty early today!"
DeRozan stopped about a dozen meters away from the court, looked at Zhang Yang expressionlessly for a while, didn't respond, and went straight to a corner of the court to dribble for warm-ups.
Zhang Yang: [・_・?]
What's up with him? Weren't we chatting just fine yesterday?
Do all snake-like players act like this?
Forget it, just focus on my own training for now. I guess treating him to breakfast later should resolve any issues.
But he couldn't keep training peacefully, as 10 minutes later, DeRozan came over and said, "You're not powering your waist correctly when you turn for the layup. It's not the shooting motion that should drive the waist power, but the waist that should guide the power for the shot. That way, you can reduce the wastage of energy and also increase the stability of your shot. Didn't I teach you this yesterday? How could you still make this mistake?"
Zhang Yang: ?!(.ヘ°)??
What's his deal today?
Though he's right, it is my mistake.
Forget it, no use arguing with a snake-like player, he responded, "Yes, yes, I'll change it."
This perfunctory tone... what an attitude.
DeRozan was annoyed.
Seeing that although Zhang Yang was speaking dismissively, he consciously used his waist to drive his power on his next driving turn layup… made DeRozan even more annoyed!
Can't you be a little more consistent in your words and actions?
He felt embarrassed to make a scene now!
But having already expressed his annoyance, DeRozan felt much better and began teaching normally, "Jack, when you turn, you don't have to do it too quickly. Start slow, get the footwork right first. Once you're proficient, then you can think about speeding up the turn..."
With DeRozan's sudden change of attitude, Zhang Yang smacked his lips, figuring he'd just get used to it. Snake-like players are probably all like this.
An hour later, at around 8 AM, Zhang Yang stopped the training and invited DeRozan for breakfast.
DeRozan initially wanted to say he'd already eaten breakfast before coming, but when he saw the scallion pancakes and sandwiches inside the food box that Zhang Yang opened, he swallowed his saliva and didn't refuse. He followed and washed his hands before they began to eat.
It looked and tasted much better than the breakfast his uncle made. In comparison, his uncle's hastily made breakfast was like pig slop.
One scallion pancake and one sandwich later, DeRozan, who had already eaten breakfast, was full.
He asked, "Did you make this?"
Zhang Yang shook his head, "No, my dad made these. We own a restaurant, and he's a really good cook. I can cook too, but not as well as him. These are all simple dishes, I can teach you if you'd like to learn."
DeRozan nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed, but he genuinely wanted to learn. His mom cooked pretty well, but his uncle... however, he had to come back here every vacation. At home, his mom wouldn't let him do these things, insisting he focus on his studies and basketball...
…
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