Chapter 187
Chapter 187
When the training hall opened, Lin Feng saw a new notice posted on the wall. It was white paper with black text, and it was taped to the side of the tactical board with transparent tape. The four corners were neatly pasted, like a carefully framed work of art.
The sign read: "The Atlanta Olympics will open on July 19th. The cafeteria will organize a live broadcast of the men's basketball games. Please arrange your time accordingly."
Below the notice was Coach Li's signature, written in pen with great force. The last stroke of the three characters "Li Weiguo" was drawn out very long, with a noticeable pause at the end.
Lin Feng stood in front of the notice and looked at it for a few seconds.
Atlanta Olympics.
7 month 19 day.
One week left.
He knew the history of the Chinese men's basketball team at that Olympics—a historic achievement of reaching the quarterfinals. It was one of the most glorious moments in the history of Chinese basketball, and even many years later, people would still give a thumbs up when they talked about that national team.
Coach Li walked over to him, stopped, and looked at the notice.
"Do you want to see it?" he asked.
Lin Feng nodded.
"Then train hard. I'll take you to watch. But there's one condition—if you can average double-digit points in the scrimmage over the next two days, I'll approve your whole team taking half a day off from training to watch the game."
Lin Feng looked at him.
"Averaging double figures per game." Coach Li repeated, his tone flat, as if stating a fact.
Lin Feng did the math in his head. Eight points the day before yesterday, six points yesterday, a total of fourteen points, averaging seven points per game. To average double digits per game, he needs to score at least twenty-six points in two days, which is an average of thirteen points per game.
"I heard you. I'll give it a try."
Coach Li glanced at him, said nothing more, and walked away.
At the end of the morning training session, Lin Feng practiced shooting for an extra half hour—quick releases, shooting immediately after catching the ball. Gao Yuan fed him sixty shots, and he made thirty-eight. His shooting percentage was 63%, eight points higher than yesterday.
In the afternoon's scrimmage, Lin Feng played three quarters and scored twelve points. He had four pick-and-roll plays, three mid-range shots, one fast break, and two free throws. Although the White Team ultimately won by three points, he had already achieved two-thirds of Coach Li's goal—averaging double figures per game.
Back in the dorm that night, Gaoyuan lay on his bed doing push-ups, a pen dangling from his mouth, the pen bobbing up and down like a raised tail.
"Lin Feng, you've broken your personal scoring record today."
Lin Feng sat on the bed, soaking his feet in hot water. The plastic basin, lent to him by Chen Hao, was blue and had a small chip in the rim. The water was very hot; when he put his feet in, his skin first turned white, then slowly reddened.
"Only twelve points, that's not much."
"Not many?" Gao Yuan stopped his push-ups, rolled over and sat up. The pen fell from his mouth onto the bed. He picked it up and placed it on the bedside table, wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth. "In the provincial youth team's scrimmage, besides Zhang Lei and Liu Yang, you're the third to average double-digit points per game."
Lin Feng didn't say anything, but lifted his feet out of the basin and dried them with a towel.
He sat on the bed, looking out the window. The moonlight shone in, bright and white.
He recalled what Coach Li had said earlier that day: "Want to go to the Olympics? Just average double-digit points per game."
He recalled Cheng Yuxin's words: "You're talking like you're having a conversation."
He remembered what Lin Cuiping had said: "Come here, I'll treat you to something good to eat."
And Zhou Jianguo said, "You are better than them."
He went through these voices in his mind, like flipping through a stack of cards, each one with different words, different faces, and different weights.
Then he lay down.
"Gaoyuan, Chen Hao."
"Hmm?" Gao Yuan's voice came from next door.
Chen Hao turned a page of his book without saying anything, but Lin Feng knew he was listening.
Let's watch the game together on July 19th.