from the golden generation

Chapter 3 Born for Basketball? (for collection)
"Huh, huh, Brother Alun, I really can't do it."

Yan Song bent over, out of breath.

Iverson was holding a basketball and said sternly.

"190 five, five more, get up and catch the ball."

The words fall.

Yan Song dragged his exhausted body and staggered to his feet.

After catching the basketball, now behind the free throw line, raise your hand again and shoot.

"Shh."

Hollow into the frame.

Yan Song smiled slightly, reaching out to continue to catch the ball.

"Wait, take off the bandage first, and then you can shoot."

Iverson said, taking scissors to remove the bandage on Yan Song's left hand.

Yan Song stretched his left palm a few times, then shook it again.

After receiving the basketball, under Iverson's watchful eye, he naturally relaxed his left hand to take it, and when he threw it with his right hand, he stretched it straight.

Shots, wrist presses, basketball spins.

The ball went into the basket steadily, and the two smiled triumphantly at the same time.

Then he walked to the zero-degree angle and made the remaining three balls.

After completing the goal, Yan Song squatted on the ground.

Iverson held the book in his hand and said.

"89 shots, [-] hits."

Iverson handed the book to Yan Song and continued.

"The shooting is fairly stable, which is already very good for a layman like you."

After Iverson finished speaking, he took the notebook away and said.

"Tomorrow we will play a game against Georgia Institute of Technology at Georgetown University."

After speaking, Iverson laughed, and Yan Song suddenly understood what the other party meant, and said.

"Brother Alun, do you want me to go?"

"Ah."

Iverson nodded and said.

"This is an opportunity. I think your shooting is very stable and your height is not bad. Play as a guard."

After Iverson finished speaking, he threw a set of ball uniforms to Yan Song, took a hair tie from his backpack, and threw it to Yan Song.

"Nine o'clock tomorrow morning, don't be late."

Say it.

Iverson waved away.

Yan Song looked at the white jersey in his hand, a little lost in thought.

"NO.11."

Yan Song opened his jersey, and his surname was printed on the back of the shirt.

"YAN."

Yan Song was a little excited, and couldn't wait to take off his wet clothes and put on his own ball uniform.

"Haha."

Yan Song smiled foolishly, ecstatically.

I didn't notice at all, another person came in just now.

"It's a good fit."

"what?"

Yan Song was startled by the sudden voice, and turned to look at the person who spoke.

Only to find out that it was Coach John Thompson.

"Good morning, Coach."

"Ah."

The coach nodded, looked at the sweat left by Yan Song on the floor, and smiled gratifiedly.

"You worked hard, Alan, he came to teach you again?"

"Ah."

"However, master, superstars are not made in a day."

The coach told the truth, but Yan Song remained silent.

Bending down picked up the basketball and continued training.

Seeing the opponent ignore him, this made the coach vaguely see the shadow of Iverson.

Good boy, it's not for nothing to mess with him, I like this character.

Think about it.

The coach walked up to Yan Song and snatched Yan Song's ball.

"Come on, let me practice with you, let me see what you have learned in the past two days."

The words fall.

Coach John went straight to the basket, and Yan Song chased after him in a panic.

Take out the ball and miss it.

Finally, close defense.

But he was beaten by the coach and took a step back.

In the end, Coach John hit the hook steadily, [-]-[-].

"now you."

Coach John is getting stronger and stronger. At the age of 55, he is facing a strong young man.

In terms of strength, it still does not lag behind.

However, he can score so easily because Yan Song is too unfamiliar with basketball.

Yan Song watches the ball, but watching is watching, which does not prove that he can play and defend.

After receiving the pass from the coach, Yan Song is now outside the three-point line and has not made a shot for a long time.

Although the coach did not step forward to defend.

"Whoosh."

Yan Song made a bold move, but when he made the move, his movements were slightly deformed.

It's not quite standard. When exerting force, part of it is thrust.

"when."

The basketball hit the backboard and bounced into the hoop.

Coach John was a little surprised, but the look of surprise was also fleeting.

After all, he is a man who has won two championships.

"It's pretty good, but I still need to practice more shooting, one to two."

Done.

The two exchanged positions, and at the same time, other members of the basketball team walked in.

Discovering that the rookie was actually fighting the coach one-on-one, he hurried to his seat to watch the game without even taking off his clothes.

"Bang, bang."

The coach still relied on beating Yan Song, and every collision seemed to shatter Yan Song's confidence.

Yan Song is still strong, and the two reach the basket.

Just as the coach was about to hook for a layup, Yan Song jumped up instantly, like a tiger descending a mountain.

"Humph."

The coach withdrew his raised hand, patted the ball on the ground, and then got up to shoot.

"I go."

Everyone in the audience was shocked.

I saw that Yan Song's hand actually destroyed the coach's shot from behind and successfully intercepted the opponent.

Yan Song fell to the ground and failed to get up in time to fight for the basketball, so the coach took another point.

"Two to two, get up and continue."

The coach laughed, showing his white teeth.

Just now, his cognition of this layman was refreshed.

"This kid's talent is high enough, and his comprehension is good. God really doesn't want me, a bad old man, to have time to rest."

John Thompson sighed in his heart for a moment, he had hope for Yan Song.

He has decided to work hard to train Yan Song, what a pity.

I failed to discover this humble teenager earlier, and the 1996 NBA draft will be in a few months.

If I let myself meet him earlier, I promise myself.

This kid can definitely make it to the top ten in the first round.

But it's not too late now, it's better than never meeting.

Although even entering the NBA is still slim, it is not hopeless. If not, then repeat the year.

The coach has secretly planned the future for Yan Song in his heart.

"Hey!"

Yan Song suddenly made a shooting action, and the coach hurriedly stepped forward to defend.

Yan Song raised his hands high, and when the ball was about to be thrown, Yan Song hit the ball on the ground.

False cast really sudden.

With the ball in his right hand, Yan Song is so fast that no one in his 50s can catch up with him.

Yan Song raised his right hand high, flicked his wrist, and the basketball fell into the basket.

"Three to two, Yan Song wins!"

But when Yan Song fell to the ground, the canvas shoes Yan Song was wearing failed to support him.

Yan Song lost his balance on his right foot, and the shoe was torn in two on the spot.

And Yan Song also fell to the ground with his feet sprained and didn't get up for a long time.

"Damn, he was running so fast, he didn't slow down for the layup."

"Well, the shoes are not basketball shoes, they are made of fabric."

The team members were still chattering, but Iverson had already thrown the drawing board aside and ran towards Yan Song.

"Yan Song, Yan Song, are you okay?"

Iverson shook Yan Song, who was on the ground with a bare face, looking very anxious.

But when he turned Yan Song around, he found that he was smiling.

The color of happiness on his face.

"Fuck! (fuck)"

Iverson yelled.

"Why didn't you fall to your death? Scared me."

Yan Song still smiled and said.

"Brother Aaron."

"Ok?"

"I've fallen in love with basketball."

　I scratched my finger, please support me, collect and recommend tickets.

　　


(End of this chapter)