Basketball trainer, I created a super giant

Chapter 204 You're Just Scared
The training center has a luxuriously decorated cafeteria, and food is now ready.

Prince found a seat and sat down, and a staff member handed him a large plate of food.

Pan-fried salmon, shrimp, steak, eggs, vegetables, and mashed potatoes.

It looks pretty good.

This amount is a bit alarming.

He silently looked up and glanced at the others, noticing that many others also had piles of food in front of them.

Many people want to gain weight.

At the same time, nutritionist Gary Hayden gave him a booklet.

The training intensity was quite high, and Prince was also hungry, so he ate while opening the booklet to read.

This is actually a nutrition plan.

The form also included a checklist, informing me to go to a hospital affiliated with the Knicks for a blood test early the next morning.

It seems like they need to check various physical indicators.

The nutrition plan lasts for half a month and lists the standards for three meals a day in great detail.

You don't need to cook anything yourself. You can just go pick up your lunch and dinner later and heat them up in the microwave when you get home.

Most importantly, it was about controlling diet, with a long list of prohibited foods that Prince was required to strictly adhere to.

Prince knows that diet control is important in the NBA.

But looking at all those prohibited foods still gives me a headache.

My favorite spicy beef burger and my favorite chocolate candy are both off-limits now.

Prince felt that he had a naturally thin physique and could eat whatever he wanted without gaining weight, so he had never controlled his diet before.

Now, it's all gone.

Scratching his head, Prince could only continue eating, feeling dejected.

He could accept such strict dietary control.

Although he was born in the chaotic city of Compton, his family was well-off. His father was not a professional player, but he loved basketball, and Prince learned hard work and perseverance from him.

He knew in his heart that although Tang Sen was very strict, this was definitely a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for a rookie like himself.

Who wouldn't want to be the next Kwame Brown!
Meanwhile, Tang Sen returned to his office and had just finished organizing the training plan when he received a call from Leiden.

"Don, did you suspend Darius?"

Leiden must have just gotten up; he could still hear his wife calling out to the children on the phone.

"Not bad, they've already filed a complaint with you so quickly."

Tang Sen leaned back in his chair, seemingly unconcerned.

I didn't mean to make an example of you, but you insisted on walking into the line of fire, so you can't blame yourself for it.

"It's his agent," said Leiden. "Fuck, I'm still half asleep."

He was still asleep when he was woken up by a phone call from Miles' agent, Jeff Wechsler.

"Tang, do you know how Darius's agent described you?"

Tang Sen asked how to describe it.

Leiden said, "He said you are a cold-blooded tyrant, that Darius made a very small mistake, and you didn't even give him a chance to correct it. You are too cold-blooded."

Jeff Wechsler worked for David Falcao when he first started out, but among all the agents in the NBA, he was a nobody, only daring to complain a few words to Redden.

If it were Falcao, he'd probably be cursing on the phone.

“Tyrant, not bad, I like that nickname.” Tang Sen laughed.

After the joke was over, Leiden asked, "Don, what are you thinking? Do you want to give up on Darius completely, or do you just want to teach him a lesson?"

Tang Sen countered, "What if it's the former? And what if it's the latter?"

You can't just say you support yourself.

Leiden understood the implication and immediately said, "If it's the former, I will do as you wish. If it's the latter, I will do as you wish as well: suspend him and then trade him away."

The reaction is quite fast.

Tang Sen chuckled inwardly, then said, "You wouldn't be reluctant to give up the first-round pick you gave away, would you?"

In the Myers trade, the Knicks' biggest sacrifice was the first-round pick they acquired from the Bulls, which was also the main reason the Cavaliers were willing to complete the trade.

If you abandon Miles now and choose to trade, the market value will immediately shrink, and you may not be able to get the same value in return.

After all, it was someone I eliminated and gave up on.

“How could that be?” Leiden said immediately.

Compared to New York's grand plan to win the championship, what is a mere Miles?

He'd trade Houston immediately if it meant winning the championship.

It just means it can't be sent out.

Tang Sen nodded and said, "Let's trade him. This kid isn't disciplined enough, and he probably won't change his ways."

Talent alone is not enough to succeed.

“Alright,” Leiden agreed, “I’ll inform him of the formal suspension in a bit.”

Talidon.

Miles rented a place here because of the training center.

His apartment is only 3 kilometers from the training center, a mere 10-minute bike ride.

At that moment, he had just smashed a lot of things in the apartment to pieces, and was now biting his nails, nervously waiting for his agent's call.

I waited anxiously until around 9 a.m., when my phone finally rang.

Miles lunged forward, grabbed the phone, and quickly answered it.

"Jeff, how is it? What did the team say? Am I okay now? That must be it, right? He's just a trainer, what right does he have to suspend me?" Miles asked anxiously.

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

After a long pause, Jeff Wechsler finally couldn't help but curse.

"Fuck you, are you out of your mind? Why did you have to mess with Tang?"

"It's just getting up at four o'clock, just this once, it won't kill you, why won't you listen?"

"He clearly told you yesterday, but you still didn't take it seriously. Do you really think he's just an ordinary trainer?"

Whether the Knicks can contend for the championship depends on Tang Sen, but it's clear they can't do without him.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, my alarm clock really was broken,” Miles argued.

Wechsler roared, "Fuck your alarm clock, Darius! You're finished, you understand?"

"Scott has informed me that you have been officially suspended and that he also wants to trade you."

"Damn it, you still have two years left on your rookie contract. With your current situation, who's going to give you a big contract in the future?"

Since Tang Sen rejected them all, it will definitely affect the judgment of other teams.

Moreover, the Knicks paid the price of a first-round pick to acquire Miles.

How could we not take it back?

If we can't get it back, then we'll just have to stay in this stalemate.

A mere three million dollar contract is nothing to the Knicks.

But Miles couldn't wait. If he couldn't play, a season would pass and he'd be ruined.

"Fuck you, you're done for, damn it." Wechsler angrily hung up the phone. He didn't want to deal with Miles right now; he just wanted some peace and quiet.

Miles was too terrified to vent his anger.

My mind was filled with thoughts of what would happen to me next: being traded to some terrible team, spending my rookie contract without making a lot of money, and then going back to Belleville, that small town shrouded in guns, drugs, and death.
He had fought his way out of that hell and didn't want to go back.

He called Wechsler again.

Wechsler was so angry that he refused to answer.

Miles was completely panicked and his mind went blank. He was still a week away from turning 21, and he had never experienced anything so troublesome.

After some time, he suddenly remembered someone.

Michael Jordan!
When he first entered the league, he wore AND1 shoes, just like Quentin Richardson.

In his freshman year of high school, he was invited to Jordan's training camp in Chicago, where he first met Jordan and then met Quentin Richardson.

Then, in the summer of 2000 when he was drafted, he attended Jordan's training camp in Santa Barbara.

Jordan walked over, saw the AND1 shoes he was wearing, and immediately said, "What kind of garbage are these shoes?"

After the training camp ended, Jordan had an endorsement contract delivered to him.

Therefore, Miles is now the spokesperson for Air Jordans.

He has Jordan's private cell phone number and still keeps in touch with him.

Jordan was the biggest figure he knew in the basketball world. He remembered media reports that Tang Sen and Jordan had a particularly good relationship, so he wanted to ask Jordan to put in a good word for him.

If Tang Sen was trying to scare him, then he was already frightened.

He dialed Jordan's cell phone number, and after a while, it was answered.

Jordan's deep voice came from inside, asking Miles what was wrong.

"Sir, I've made a big mistake." Miles stammered out the story, then pitifully begged Jordan for help.

On the other end of the phone, the Wizards' training camp had already begun.

Jordan was chatting and laughing with Hill.

After Townsend's rehabilitation training, Hill is in excellent condition.

Jordan was extremely satisfied.

And of course, there's Stoudemire.

He felt like he had struck gold, and all he could say was that anything produced by Tangsen was a masterpiece.

This kid is incredibly talented.

So after hearing Miles' account that he missed Townsend's training session, even after Townsend had informed them a day in advance that it was an important test and that everyone should not be late.

"Fuck you, you idiot, did a donkey kick your brain?"

Jordan immediately got angry and gave Miles a good scolding over the phone.

Who are you?

He was Michael Jordan, who founded the Breakfast Club, was incredibly disciplined throughout his career, trained diligently, and had no tolerance for any flaws.

You actually skipped my training session.

If this happened with the Wizards, Jordan would have driven him to despair.

Then you called me and asked me to plead with Tang Sen on your behalf.

When did I become so close to Tang Sen?
Besides, when has that bastard ever given me any face?

“Fool, I can’t help you and I won’t help you. All you can do now is apologize to Tang yourself and beg him to have a change of heart and forgive you.”

Jordan cursed and hung up the phone.

Hearing the busy tone on the phone, Miles was completely dumbfounded. His hand trembled, and the phone slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground.

He never imagined that his laziness would have such serious consequences.

Miles spent that day in a nightmare.

That evening, his mother, Ethel Miles, called him, but he was too scared to answer.

It could be said that he had no father.

His mother and father were never married. After his mother became pregnant, she raised him alone.

In that chaotic place, East St. Louis, her mother had said that she was the only hope for the entire family to leave East St. Louis.

He was afraid of disappointing his mother.

So the next day, shortly after four in the morning, Miles rushed to the training center.

He waited until dawn to find out that today's training would start at eight o'clock in the morning.

It's not five o'clock anymore.

The key issue is that no one notified me.

He was indeed suspended by the team, and they wouldn't even let him participate in training.

Because the security personnel at the training center had been notified not to let them in.

Miles dared not be angry, much less leave.

Last night, Wechsler told him that there was no other way. If he wanted to stay with the Knicks, he could only go to Townsend and beg for forgiveness and to let him go.

Otherwise, they can only wait to be traded to some unknown team.

At 7:00 a.m., the uniformed staff arrived at the training center one after another.

"coach."

Miles saw Cheney and hurried over to greet him.

Thibodu had just gone over, but he hadn't paid any attention to him.

Cheney hesitated for a moment, then stopped.

"Coach, I know I was wrong. Can I come back to training?" Miles was almost in tears.

Cheney hesitated for a moment, then patted Miles on the shoulder and said, "Dalios, let's go back."

Cheney was shocked when he learned that Tangsen was going to give up on Miles on the first day of training.

But Ryden was decisive; if Tangsen didn't like a player, he would give up on him.

Losses are not a concern.

What could Cheney say? He didn't have the confidence to argue with Rhoden right now.

Last season, I was a troubleshooter.

And their performance was really bad.

When Jeff Van Gundy was in charge, the team had a record of 10 wins and 9 losses.

When it came to his turn, with a record of 20 wins and 43 losses, he was afraid that one day Leiden might take a dislike to him and fire him.

After all, Layden's only goal right now is the championship, so he needs a championship-caliber head coach.

I don't have any particularly impressive resume.

Cheney wouldn't be so foolish as to argue with a rookie like Rhoden.

Miles broke down when he saw Cheney walk into the training center.

So when Tang Sen arrived in his car, he was truly heartbroken and begged Tang Sen to forgive him, saying that he knew he had made a mistake.

Tang Sen was not heartless; he could remain unmoved by Miles's reaction.

But there was no way around it; he insisted on jumping out and becoming that chicken.

In order to deter the other players, he had no choice but to be sacrificed.

"You don't know you're wrong, you're just afraid."

Tang Sen hardened his heart and ignored Miles as he walked into the training center.

This guy is just scared; deep down, he doesn't know if he's learned his lesson or if he's able to change himself.

If you choose to forgive him simply out of fear, only to repeat the same mistake later, then you are wasting your time.

It's better to harden your heart now.

Watching Tang Sen's figure disappear, Miles looked as if he had been sentenced to death, his face turning deathly pale, and he didn't even know how he got back to his apartment.

Anyway, when Ethel Miles knocked on his door on the third day, the whole house reeked of alcohol and the stench of leaves.

There was also a naked woman lying on the sofa.

Ethel Miles was completely dumbfounded.

"Dalios!"

Ethel let out a scream.

The drowsy Miles recognized who it was and broke out in a cold sweat, instantly snapping him back to reality.

His mother was his greatest love, and also his greatest fear.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Ethel stormed into the apartment with the same ferocity he displayed when he was 11 years old, as when his mother led a group of people to storm someone else's house.

That year, as usual, I played basketball with my friends in the middle of the street using a folding basketball hoop.

Then a man rushed out of the house next door and pressed a revolver against his forehead.

If it weren't for his bastard father's bad reputation in the area, he would have been shot dead at that moment.

His mother, an ordinary woman who honestly made a living driving a school bus, picked up a double-barreled shotgun and, along with her cousins, stormed into the other party's house after learning about the incident.

Pointing a gun at the other person's head as a warning to never bother them again.

That aura was exactly the same as what's happening now.

The only difference was that the shotgun was replaced with an ear puller.

"Damn it, you bastard, I'm really going crazy with anger."

Ethel grabbed Miles's ear hard, cursing, then picked up a few pieces of clothing from the floor, threw them at him, and pushed herself into the bathroom.

"Clean yourself up, then come with me to apologize to your coach. If he doesn't forgive you, I'll shoot you!"

Ethel roared.

(End of this chapter)