pertwk Chapter 5: One-on-One Domination, Prediction is King
Chapter 5: One-on-One Domination, Prediction is King
Richardson charged forward like an enraged bull, causing his teammates on the sidelines to erupt in chaos.
"Get that Jason! Teach him a lesson!"
"Let this internet celebrity know that the NBA courts aren't his stage to play his suona horn!"
"I bet ten dollars that Jason dunked on him!"
The substitute player who had just bet $20 that Lin Hao would score a basket was now nervously clutching his bill, his face pale. Everyone knew that Richardson's breakthroughs were famously fast, with explosive first-step power. His folding back dunk in the dunk contest years ago showcased his physical talent to the fullest.
In everyone's eyes, this Chinese rookie, selected late in the second round, was as fragile as paper in front of Richardson, easily crushed.
Lin Hao stood rooted to the spot, not moving an inch. His eyes were fixed on Richardson's right shoulder, without even blinking.
In his previous life, during his more than ten years as a youth training coach, he had seen far too many fancy moves. Many exceptionally talented children performed flashy and elaborate movements, but the habits hidden in the details had already revealed their next move completely.
Richardson's move, which appeared to be a crossover with swaying left and right, looked to Lin Hao like a slow-motion replay.
He had figured it out long ago: before this kid changed direction to the left, his right shoulder would always drop half an inch first, and his center of gravity would sway slightly to the right. This was a habit ingrained in his muscles that he couldn't break.
Sure enough, Richardson suddenly lowered his shoulder to the right, making a feint to break through to the right, and then flipped his wrist to pull the ball to his left hand and break through to the left at full speed.
He had already planned it out: he would shake the kid off his feet and then dunk with one hand, showing him what NBA-level competition was all about.
But just as he pulled the ball to his left hand, before he could even take a step forward, a hand suddenly blocked his way.
"Snapped!"
With a crisp sound, Lin Hao's hand precisely sliced the ball, snatching it from his grasp and then slapping it aside, sending the basketball rolling out of bounds.
The entire training hall fell silent instantly.
The teammates who were just making a fuss now had their mouths agape, wide enough to fit an egg, and their hands, which were raised in the air, were frozen in disbelief.
Jason Richardson, the team's star player, had the ball stolen from him in a single encounter by a rookie who had just entered the league.
Richardson himself was also bewildered.
He looked down at his empty hands, then at the basketball that had rolled out of bounds, and was stunned for a long time. His signature crossover, which he was so proud of, had been completely ignored, and someone had simply reached out and stolen the ball?
"Luck, this is definitely luck." He gritted his teeth and muttered to himself, then looked up at Lin Hao, his disdain lessening and his gaze hardening.
Lin Hao, however, acted as if nothing had happened. He clapped his hands, calmly took two steps back beyond the three-point line, and beckoned to him with his finger: "Again."
"Kid, don't be so arrogant!" Richardson was completely enraged. He quickly walked over, picked up the basketball, and stood outside the three-point line again.
This time, he dared not let his guard down. He lowered his center of gravity, the basketball dribbling between his legs, his eyes fixed on Lin Hao's footwork, trying to find a weakness in his defense.
The teammates on the sidelines held their breath, craning their necks to stare at the two men in the center of the court. Those who had been mocking Lin Hao just moments before now had their smiles gone, replaced by expressions of shock and curiosity.
Richardson made two consecutive crossover dribbles, then suddenly took a step forward, posing as if he was about to break through. He then abruptly pulled back the ball, took a step back, and was about to get up and stop for a jump shot.
His pull-up jump shot was his most consistent scoring method last season. The rhythm changes extremely quickly, and many defenders are so confused by his moves that they don't have time to block it.
But just as he bent his knees to jump, he found that Lin Hao was not only not shaken off by his feint, but also jumped up at the same time as him retreating!
Lin Hao had long since figured out his habits.
Before each sudden stop and jump shot, this kid's knees would always be pressed down one centimeter more than usual during a squat, and there would be an almost imperceptible pause. That half-second difference was enough for Lin Hao to react.
Richardson had just raised the ball above his head, and before he could even shoot, Lin Hao's hand had already firmly blocked the basketball.
"Bang!"
With a muffled thud, the basketball was swatted away by Lin Hao, flying horizontally for five or six meters before crashing into the GG sign on the sidelines with a loud bang.
The entire training hall was deathly silent.
The kind of sound you could hear a pin drop.
The substitute player who had just bet $20 jumped up from the ground, clutching the bill in his hand, almost shouting out loud.
The assistant coach, who had been leaning against the scorer's table, now stood up straight, adjusted his glasses, and stared wide-eyed at Lin Hao, muttering to himself, "My God, that defensive anticipation."
Richardson stood there, his face turning red and white in turns, completely frozen in place.
Being intercepted once is luck, but being defended twice can't just be luck again, right?
He felt like he was standing naked in front of Lin Hao, and the other man knew everything he wanted to do! This feeling was even worse than being dunked on.
"How the hell did you do that?" Richardson gritted his teeth and forced out the question.
Lin Hao dusted off his pants and shrugged innocently: "Is it that hard? Your movements are written all over your face, I could defend against it with my eyes closed."
Upon hearing this, Richardson's anger instantly flared up to the core.
He'd lived for over twenty years and played basketball for so many years, and this was the first time he'd ever been so humiliated! Especially by a rookie who'd just entered the league!
He rushed over, picked up the basketball, and, his eyes red, walked to the three-point line, roaring at Lin Hao, "Again! If I don't make this, I'm not Richardson!"
As soon as he finished speaking, he charged straight at Lin Hao with the ball. This time, he didn't bother with fancy moves; he simply used his body to push past Lin Hao and drove into the paint.
Standing at 1.98 meters tall, with a muscular build and weighing more than ten kilograms more than Lin Hao, he relied on his physical advantage in a back-to-the-basket one-on-one situation, believing the shot was in the bag.
Lin Hao didn't resist, but retreated with his strength, his steps steady and his eyes still fixed on his crotch.
He knew all too well that when Richardson was backing down in a one-on-one situation, as long as he lowered his left hip and twisted his waist, he would turn to the right and lean back for a jump shot. He had used this move countless times, and it had long become muscle memory.
Sure enough, Richardson drove to the free-throw line, his left hip suddenly dropped down, and his waist twisted as he turned to shoot.
But as soon as he turned around, he found that Lin Hao was already standing in the path he had turned around in, his feet firmly planted and not moving at all.
"Bang!"
Richardson crashed into Lin Hao hard, and Lin Hao fell backward and sat on the ground.
The referee blew his whistle instantly, and with a gesture, it was clear – an offensive foul!
Three rounds, three offensive plays, one steal, one block, and one offensive foul.
Jason Richardson, the team's star player, was shut out for three rounds by a second-round rookie!
The teammates on the sidelines went wild, crowding around the court, pointing and shouting "My God!" Their gazes toward Lin Hao had completely changed from mockery and disdain to shock and disbelief.
Richardson completely broke down.
He slammed the basketball to the ground, sending it bouncing high into the air. His eyes were red as he pointed at Lin Hao and practically roared out those words:
"How the hell did you know where I was going?!"
Lin Hao slowly got up from the ground, dusted himself off, and grinned at his exasperated expression. A thick Northeastern accent slowly drifted out:
"What's so difficult about that? You just shift your weight to the left when your right shoulder sinks, and to the right when your left hip sinks, just like the traffic lights at the entrance of our village. Red means stop, green means go, it's as regular as it gets. All the junior high students I've taught are better at hiding their own moves than you are."
In one sentence, Richardson was rendered speechless. He stood there, his chest heaving violently, his face turning as red as a pig's liver, unable to utter a single word for a long time.
He'd been playing for so many years, and no one had ever told him that his movements had such a clear pattern. But in the last three rounds, Lin Hao had accurately predicted his movements every single time, leaving him no choice but to believe it.
The teammates on the sidelines were in an uproar, whispering among themselves.
"My God, is he telling the truth? Jason's movements really have such obvious habits?"
"No wonder he was so relaxed just now; he knew exactly what Jason was going to do next!"
"This isn't just an internet celebrity, this is a fucking defensive genius!"
Ignoring the discussions on the sidelines, Lin Hao picked up the basketball from the ground, twirled it between his fingers, and smiled as he beckoned to Richardson, who was still standing there in a daze.
"Three rounds have passed, you've finished your attack."
"Now, it's my turn."