"Jay, take a seat. Judging by the frustration on your face, I'm guessing you've realized your problem," Coach Calipari said, observing Jay, who looked like he had just finished an exhausting workout.
"Yes, Coach," Jay replied, visibly disheartened. "Their physicality is just too much for me. I can't keep up."
"Jay, physical fitness is the key to making it to the NBA. Plenty of talented players never make it because they lack the necessary athleticism. You need to train harder. But for now, let's think about your role from a different perspective," Coach Calipari said.
"Another perspective? What do you mean, Coach?" Jay asked, puzzled.
"Have you considered giving up ball-handling responsibilities and focusing on off-ball movement? By running without the ball, you can force the defense to react, creating opportunities for open shots or organizing plays. I've noticed your three-point shooting has improved lately, enough to make you a threat off the ball. This will also help you conserve energy by avoiding unnecessary physical clashes," Calipari explained.
"Like Golden State's little guy, Stephen Curry," he added.
"Off-ball? Curry?!" Jay's expression lit up. At first, the idea of giving up ball-handling duties left him reluctant. After all, in his mind, having the ball meant getting stats, and stats attracted scouts. But when Coach mentioned Curry, Jay's eyes widened in realization.
Curry was the perfect example. Playing off-ball didn't mean being unimportant—quite the opposite. Players with strong off-ball skills often attracted more attention from scouts because not everyone was drafted to be a team's centerpiece.
The NBA only had 30 teams, and only a handful of players could be stars. Meanwhile, the demand for skilled role players—especially those with strong off-ball abilities—was far greater.
More importantly, Calipari used Curry as an example. While Jay admired Curry's shooting, he envied Curry's seamless transition from on-ball to off-ball play even more. That skill made Curry an even greater offensive threat.
"Didn't expect this old man to know basketball so well," Jay thought to himself. As a time traveler, he knew how dominant Curry would become in the future, but he didn't expect Calipari to notice Curry's playing style so early. "Truly impressive," Jay mused, imagining a meme of Tyronn Lue with the caption, "He knows ball."
"Thanks, Coach. I get it now. I know what I need to do," Jay said, genuinely grateful.
"No problem, kid. Your future is bright. Go back and watch Curry's game footage to study his off-ball movement. It'll be a big help," Calipari said with a satisfied nod.
Jay left the gym feeling rejuvenated. "Why didn't I, a time traveler, think of that? The coach, a local, figured it out instead," he thought.
This was the difference between a professional and an amateur. Even as a time traveler, Jay was just a fan, not a professional athlete. It was no surprise he hadn't thought of it himself.
He had been stuck in the mindset that holding the ball was the only way to get stats.
"I guess I need to train harder and learn the game properly. Professionals really are on another level. Coach analyzed the problem after just one game—gotta respect that."
Muttering to himself, Jay headed home.
Back at home, Jay immediately started watching Curry's game footage to study his off-ball movement.
As he practiced, he noticed something strange—he was picking up the movements unusually quickly. It felt almost natural.
After thinking it over, Jay realized it must be related to the Ray Allen template card. Twilight Ray Allen was a master of off-ball movement, and that ability seemed to enhance Jay's learning speed for similar skills.
"Looks like these template cards have hidden benefits. I need to fully explore each card's potential—can't let any of it go to waste," Jay thought, his frugal nature kicking in. He once again drifted into fantasies of becoming the Sword God of Ten Miles' Slope.
Soon, it was time for the NCAA Sweet 16. Kentucky was set to face Louisville.
Jay adjusted his wristbands, ready to take the court. Louisville's head coach, watching Jay prepare, sighed in relief. On paper, Louisville wasn't the stronger team, making the matchup a toss-up.
But after watching Jay's previous game, the Louisville coach had noticed his weaknesses. Smirking, he thought, What's the harm in copying? Leaning back confidently on the bench, he crossed his arms, looking every bit like Phil Jackson enjoying the zen of coaching.
Jay didn't notice the opposing coach's relaxed demeanor. His focus was entirely on the game, his gaze fixed on the opposing players like a hunter stalking prey.
The game tipped off, and Kentucky secured possession. Jay brought the ball up the court.
Seeing him with the ball, Louisville's coach and players exchanged knowing smiles, like hunters closing in on their prey.
As Jay crossed half-court, the defense immediately ramped up the physical pressure. Jay spun to protect the ball and fired a bounce pass to Randle, who had come to help.
Without hesitation, Jay sprinted into off-ball motion, weaving through screens like a fish darting through water. After two screens, he caught a pass from Randle in the corner, adjusted slightly, and released the shot.
Both the Corner Specialist and Catch and Shoot badges activated. Swish.
Jay pointed at Randle to acknowledge the pass before hustling back on defense.
Louisville's coach froze for a moment, muttering, "That… must've been a fluke, right? Yeah, just a coincidence." Despite his words, he unconsciously sat up straighter, realizing he wasn't Phil Jackson after all.
Louisville's offense began, with their point guard using his physicality to attack Jay.
Jay's perimeter defense held up, but he lacked the strength to fully contain the drive. Still, he managed to stay in position and disrupt the shot.
The attempt was swatted away by Randle, who shouted, "Jay, run!"
Grabbing the rebound, Randle launched the ball ahead. Jay, sprinting downcourt, caught the pass and lobbed it high into the air. Randle, trailing behind, caught it and slammed it home with authority.
BOOM.
Randle landed and bumped chests with Jay in celebration.
Sensing the momentum shift, Louisville's coach called a timeout. His attempt at zen had failed, and now he was shouting at his players, hair practically flying like a human blow dryer. Pretending to be Phil Jackson clearly wasn't working.
Jay turned to glance at Louisville's bench with a smirk that mirrored their earlier confidence.
Now, who was the hunter, and who was the prey?