pertwk Chapter 10: Injury Warning, Music Starts
Chapter 10: Injury Warning, Music Starts
The smell of champagne in the locker room hadn't even completely dissipated when the team doctor cornered Lin Hao.
The veteran team doctor, clutching the MRI report, was as dark as the bottom of a pot. His glasses practically slipped down to the tip of his nose. Pointing to the torn area on the report, his tone was like a final ultimatum: "Lin, I'm telling you this one last time. A minor tear of the anterior talofibular ligament requires at least two weeks of rest, with the best option being four weeks of immobilization and rehabilitation. If you continue playing high-intensity sports while injured, the tear will worsen, becoming a habitual ankle sprain, and could even ruin your career!"
Lin Hao held the report in his hand, looked down at his still swollen ankle, and said nothing.
The hotel TV was playing Summer League highlights, and the scene of him shaking off Williams for the game-winning shot was playing on repeat. The youth training notebook in his pocket had been worn smooth by his fingertips, and the sentence on the first page, "Chinese basketball, one day," was almost blurred from his touch.
He knew better than anyone the cost of injuries. In his past life, he had ruined his professional dream by playing while injured despite advice. In the county's youth training camp, he watched batch after batch of talented children end their basketball careers early because they didn't take injuries seriously.
But he knew even better that there was no room for error in the NBA when a second-round pick was late in the draft.
His impressive performance in the Summer League was just a flash in the pan. Regular season spots have to be earned through training and performance in every garbage time. If he misses four weeks, by the time he recovers, training camp spots will be long gone. Teams won't wait for a popular rookie to recover, much less give a place to a Chinese player who can't even get playing time.
"I can't take a break." Lin Hao looked up at the team doctor, his eyes no longer reckless, but full of determination. "But I won't joke around with my career either. I'll follow your instructions for rehabilitation training. I'll increase the intensity of strength training and footwork training, and reduce the intensity of contact training. I will absolutely not play a high-intensity full game before the regular season opener."
He opened his youth training notebook and wrote a line on a blank page: "Ankle limitations, hone off-ball movement, three-point shooting, playmaking, reduce dribbling penetration, play with your brain."
In his past life, he was a coach who taught children to play ball. In this life, he wants to teach himself first.
The team doctor stared blankly at the densely packed training plans in his notebook for a long time before finally sighing, "Lin, you're the craziest rookie I've ever seen, but also the most clear-headed. I'll create a personalized rehabilitation plan for you, but if you experience any discomfort in your ankle, you must leave the court immediately, no questions asked."
Lin Hao grinned, pulled out a can of yellow peaches and handed it over: "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. Here, take this. It's a miracle cure from Northeast China, better than ice packs."
Over the next two weeks, everyone at the Warriors training camp noticed the changes in Lin Hao.
The boy from Northeast China who used to dare to charge onto the court and dunk over Shaquille O'Neal, and who dared to challenge the team's leader one-on-one, has suddenly become "quiet".
Every day after the team's practice, he would stay in the gym for two extra hours of practice. There were no fancy dunks or explosive drives; he only practiced three things: off-ball movement, catch-and-shoot three-pointers, and passing vision.
The team doctor gave him a strict order: absolutely no sharp changes of direction or jumps. So he simply changed his playing style completely. In his previous life, he was a youth coach, and he knew best how to compensate for talent with technique when physical limitations existed, and he also knew how to find his place in the team.
He knew his ankle wouldn't recover quickly, and relying on drives to make a living was temporarily out of the question. Second-round picks in the NBA don't get as many opportunities to handle the ball and score one-on-one. To stay in the rotation, they need a signature skill and the ability to integrate into the team's system.
Every day during extra practice, he would have his assistant coach take a tactical board and mark the routes for off-ball movement on the court, from the top of the arc to the corner, from screens to cuts, running them over and over again until he could accurately shake off the defender with every move and immediately connect with a shot the moment he received the ball, without any adjustments.
500 catch-and-shoot three-pointers is his daily target. For every one he misses, he makes ten more. From making five out of ten shots at the beginning to eight out of ten later, thick calluses formed on his fingertips, and his shooting motion became more and more consistent and stable.
In addition, he would lock himself in the video room, watching the Warriors' tactical videos over and over again, studying the head coach's run-and-gun system, and observing each teammate's playing habits. His youth training notes were filled with dense annotations.
Richardson: He prefers to drive to the left and roll to the basket after a pick-and-roll, rather than shooting from the outside.
Murphy: He has a good outside shot and a very high shooting percentage after pick-and-rolls, so he needs to be passed the ball more often.
- Team tactics: The 7-second offense system, focusing on pick-and-roll and transition offense, requires quick ball movement and avoids holding onto the ball for too long.
In his past life, he taught children to play basketball. In this life, he wants to first teach himself well and thoroughly integrate his more than ten years of youth training experience into the NBA arena.
Richardson would stay behind every day to practice with him, watching him run off-ball and shoot three-pointers over and over again, and couldn't help but ask, "Lin, you used to be so good at one-on-one, why are you practicing these useless things every day now?"
Lin Hao sank the last three-pointer, wiped his sweat, and grinned: "You can win a game in one-on-one, but you can win a season in team basketball. What I want isn't one or two highlight games, but to establish myself in the NBA, to play in the regular season and the playoffs."
He looked down at his ankle, then looked up at the championship banner above the arena, and added in his mind: Also, I want everyone to know that Chinese people can also use their brains to play basketball in the NBA and make a name for themselves.
Just as Lin Hao was honing his skills step by step, the record company called again.
This time, the other party directly arranged an in-person meeting at a recording studio in Auckland, saying that the company's signed singers would also be there, so they could discuss the details of the collaboration.
Lin Hao thought about it and decided to keep the appointment. Having another way out is never a bad thing, especially since the suona was something ingrained in his bones. It would be good if more people could hear the suona sounds of Northeast China.
As soon as Lin Hao pushed open the door in the recording studio, he saw the girl sitting in front of the piano.
She wore a simple white dress, her long hair cascading over her shoulders, her fingers resting on the piano keys, her profile clean and sharp, exuding a cool and aloof aura, like a deep pool that seemed unapproachable.
This is Zhang Qingying, a newly signed talented singer by Universal Music. With her signature dolphin-like high notes, she gained a lot of fans right after her debut.
The agent quickly stepped forward to introduce him, but Zhang Qingying merely glanced at Lin Hao, nodded politely, and her eyes revealed obvious prejudice. Clearly, she didn't have a good impression of this "internet celebrity basketball player who relies on suonas and dunks to attract attention."
The agent smoothed things over, suggesting that Lin Hao and Zhang Qingying collaborate on a single, featuring the contrast between "Eastern suona and pop dolphin voice," tentatively titled "Northeastern Man on the Ball Field." He believed that with Lin Hao's current popularity, it would definitely be a hit.
After listening, Zhang Qingying spoke calmly, her voice as cold as her personality: "I only collaborate with people who understand music. If it's just to ride the wave of popularity, playing a few tunes on a suona, then I won't accept that collaboration."
One sentence, and the scene instantly became awkward. The agent's face turned pale, and he hurriedly tried to smooth things over, but Lin Hao just smiled.
He walked to a corner of the recording studio, picked up the ebony suona he had brought, and casually hummed a melody. It was a variation of "A Man Should Be Self-reliant," which he played during the halftime of the finals. It also incorporated some tunes from Northeast Errenzhuan, combining strength with a touch of gentleness.
After humming, he looked at Zhang Qingying and said with a smile, "I haven't studied systematic music theory, but I've been playing the suona for twenty years, and I've played it hundreds of times at weddings and funerals. You don't have to sit in front of a piano and play according to the score to understand music. A melody that touches people's hearts is good music."
Zhang Qingying's originally indifferent gaze changed instantly.
She suddenly looked up at Lin Hao, her eyes filled with surprise. The melody Lin Hao had just hummed was handled with exquisite skill in its transitions and rhythms, especially the unique breath control of the suona; it was definitely not something he would just casually play.
She stood up, walked up to Lin Hao, and for the first time seriously looked at this boy from Northeast China, asking, "Did you change that part yourself?"
"Otherwise what?" Lin Hao grinned. "That's how we play our Northeastern tunes. If you want to collaborate, let's do it properly, blending the power of the suona with your dolphin-like high notes—it'll be absolutely explosive. If you don't want to collaborate, I won't force you; let's just consider it making friends."
Looking at the frankness in his eyes, Zhang Qingying's lips curled into a rare, faint smile.
She had previously thought of him as just a sensationalist internet celebrity, but now she realized that this basketball player with the suona (a traditional Chinese wind instrument) genuinely understood music.
The two chatted about the melody, from the vibrato techniques of the suona to the arrangement structure of pop songs, and they found themselves getting along very well. Although Lin Hao didn't understand professional music theory, he had been playing the suona for twenty years and had an extremely high sensitivity to melody. He could always accurately point out where to add a suona and where to follow her dolphin-like high notes. Every idea he had accurately hit the mark with Zhang Qingying.
In just one afternoon, the two finalized the overall framework of "Northeast People on the Ball Court" and even figured out the melody of the chorus.
As they left the recording studio, Zhang Qingying watched Lin Hao's limping figure and couldn't help but ask, "Doesn't your foot injury affect your ability to play basketball?"
Lin Hao turned around and smiled: "This little injury won't stop me from playing the suona or playing basketball. When the regular season starts, you're welcome to come to the game, and I'll play the opening theme for you."
Zhang Qingying looked at the light in his eyes, nodded, and said nothing more.
Little did she know that this seemingly nonchalant boy from Northeast China would soon ignite the entire NBA and become a permanent part of her life.
When Lin Hao returned to the hotel, it was already evening.
As soon as he opened the door, he saw the hotel's sports channel broadcasting the Lakers' pre-game interview. In the video, Kobe Bryant sat in front of the camera with his arms crossed, dressed in a black training suit, his face so cold it looked like frost could be scraped off.
A reporter, holding a microphone, asked, "Kobe, next week's regular season opener will be against the Golden State Warriors. Warriors rookie Lin Hao won the Summer League MVP and dunked on Shaq in the Finals. What are your thoughts on him?"
Upon hearing this, Kobe's lips curled into a cold smile, his tone full of disdain, and he casually uttered a sentence:
"Internet celebrities don't deserve to play in the NBA."
One sentence, like a thunderbolt, instantly ignited the entire American sports world.
Lin Hao stood in front of the TV, watching Kobe's cold gaze on the screen. His smile slowly faded, and his eyes became more serious.
He knew that he couldn't avoid this tough battle in the opening game of the regular season.
And he was ready.