chsdbacks Chapter 16 Establishing the Status of the Locker Room
Chapter 16 Establishing the Status of the Locker Room
In the locker room of Oracle Arena, the frustration of losing had long been washed away by Lin Hao's passion after scoring 38 points.
The room was filled with the sweet aroma of champagne foam mixed with canned yellow peaches. The teammates, who had previously been watching with amusement, now surrounded Lin Hao, three or four layers deep, as if they were embracing their team hero.
Richardson dumped the canned peaches he was carrying in front of Lin Hao's locker, completely abandoning his former team leader demeanor. Scratching the back of his head, he leaned over, his dark face full of admiration: "Canned Peach Bro, you're ruthless! You've figured out Kobe's defense perfectly. 30 points in the first half, 38 points in the whole game! I've played basketball for so many years, and this is the first time I've seen a rookie put Kobe to shame!"
The teammates around him nodded in agreement. The few substitutes who had previously mocked Lin Hao as a "suona-playing internet celebrity" now wished they could bury their faces in a can of food, and they all came over to offer him water and towels, being extremely attentive.
Lin Hao leaned against the wardrobe, rubbing his still somewhat heavy left ankle. He had fought hard for 40 minutes in the opening match, and the old injury was still throbbing. But he was clear-headed—in this game, he had completely shattered the "internet celebrity" label.
Team doctor Old Tom squeezed in, clutching the examination report, his face still grave: "Lin, your ligament tear is only temporarily relieved. If you continue to push yourself like this, the recovery will be more complicated later on."
As soon as he finished speaking, a crisp system notification sounded in Lin Hao's mind, instantly bringing a smile to his face:
[Ding! The host scored a whopping 38 points against Kobe Bryant, silencing all doubters and achieving an epic rookie debut! Special rewards triggered: 70% repair of the torn anterior talofibular ligament in the left ankle, complete elimination of chronic Achilles tendon strain, no significant pain during movement and jumping, and a slight increase in lower limb explosive power!]
A warm current instantly spread from my ankle to my entire left leg, and the soreness and stinging sensation disappeared by most of it. I gently tiptoed and pushed off the ground, and there was only a slight discomfort. The tearing pain from before was gone.
Lin Hao moved his ankle without making a sound, but he was secretly overjoyed—this reward from the system was like a timely gift, relieving his urgent injury problem.
"Don't worry, Tom, I know what I'm doing." Lin Hao smiled and patted the team doctor's arm. He then picked up a well-worn youth training notebook from the table and rubbed the words "Chinese basketball, one day" on the title page until they shone.
Richardson's gaze was drawn to the notes, and he recalled being shut out by Lin Hao in a one-on-one match before the game. He rubbed his hands together, feeling a little embarrassed: "Canned Food Bro, could you... teach me how to shoot? My three-point shooting has been ridiculously bad lately. I've missed several open shots during the game."
The moment those words were spoken, the entire room fell silent.
The team's star player actually took the initiative to ask a second-round rookie for shooting advice?
Lin Hao glanced at him, not putting on airs, casually picked up the basketball next to him, and walked to the small shooting area in the locker room: "Show me your shooting motion."
Richardson immediately did as he was told, raising his hand and jumping out. His movements were fluid, but Lin Hao saw through the problem at a glance.
"Stop." Lin Hao reached out and pressed down on his wrist. "Your wrist disengaged before you shot, and you loosened up before the ball even left your hand. Also, you leaned forward when you jumped, relying entirely on your arm swing. No wonder you couldn't make the shot."
As he spoke, he corrected Richardson's posture hand in hand, his tone exactly like someone teaching junior high school students at a youth training camp in the county: "Press your wrist down, flick the ball with your fingertips, keep your center of gravity steady when you jump, don't lunge forward... Yes, yes, that's the feeling, all the junior high school students I've taught are more disciplined than you."
Richardson nodded repeatedly after being reprimanded, adjusted his movements as Lin Hao instructed, raised his hand again, and the basketball grazed the backboard and swished through the net.
"Holy crap! It worked!" Richardson's eyes widened, and he was so excited he almost jumped up.
The training hall thereafter became Lin Hao's "teaching site".
Richardson practiced the adjusted movements, and his three-point shooting percentage soared from 32% to 58%, hitting every shot. His teammates were dumbfounded, and they lined up in a long queue. The two-meter-tall black giants stood in an orderly row, like elementary school students asking their teacher questions, waiting for Lin Hao to point out their technical flaws.
"Your breakthrough is too high; it'll break as soon as you try to grab it."
"You keep missing the ball when you're backing down to the basket; you need to raise your hand to protect the ball."
"You're only watching the ball and not your players on defense, no wonder you get beaten..."
Relying on his more than ten years of experience in youth training in his previous life, Lin Hao pointed out the technical shortcomings of each person in just a few words, and the correction of their movements was immediately effective. His teammates went from being skeptical to being completely convinced.
The assistant coach secretly took out his phone to record a video, intending to save Lin Hao's teaching video into the team's youth training materials. When Lin Hao discovered this, he blushed and asked for two cans of yellow peaches as "copyright fees," causing the whole team to burst into laughter.
Head coach Musselman stood on the sidelines, watching this scene with delight in his eyes. He leaned over to Lin Hao and handed him the tactical board: "Lin, what are your thoughts on our run-and-gun system?"
Lin Hao picked up a pen and quickly sketched on the tactics board, his handwriting clear and powerful: "Our current run-and-gun offense relies too much on dribbling and penetration, making us vulnerable to double-teams. We can add off-ball movement and pick-and-rolls with pop-outs. I'll drive the passing rhythm, Jason can cut to the basket using screens, and Murphy can pop out for three-pointers. This will create more space and increase our offensive efficiency by 30%."
With just a few words, he pinpointed the team's tactical weaknesses. Musselman's eyes lit up, and he patted the tactics board, exclaiming repeatedly, "Perfect! We'll train like you! With a brain like yours, it's a shame you're not a coach!"
In just half a day, Lin Hao's status in the Warriors' locker room was completely reversed.
From a mocked "rumor-playing internet celebrity rookie" to the team's undisputed tactical core and on-court coach, even veteran Richardson declared, "From today onwards, 'Canned Man' is the boss of our Warriors! Anyone who disagrees will have to get past me first!"
Lin Hao smiled and waved his hand, putting the youth training notes back in his pocket—what he wanted was not the position of the leader in the locker room, but to gain a foothold in the NBA and let the world see the strength of Chinese players.
Just as the team finished training and Lin Hao was packing up to go back to the hotel, his phone suddenly rang in his pocket.
The caller ID showed an unfamiliar number, originating from Auckland.
Lin Hao pressed the answer button, and a clear yet familiar female voice came through the receiver. It was Zhang Qingying, the singer from Universal Music.
"Lin Hao, the arrangement for 'Northeast People on the Basketball Court' is finalized. I'm waiting for you at the recording studio. Do you have time to come over and confirm the recording time?"
Lin Hao smiled, glanced at the darkening sky outside the window, stretched his ankle which had mostly recovered, and replied loudly:
"No problem, I'll be right there."
After hanging up the phone, Lin Hao picked up his ebony suona and turned to walk out of the training hall.
The comeback on the basketball court has just begun; it's time for the music story to officially begin.