Basketball Terminal

Chapter 3 Iron Wall
The moment their bodies collided, Novan sensed the opponent's weakness. Just as he had expected, this tall Chinese-American looked good, but his physical strength was no match for that of a real professional player.

After creating some space through physical contact, Novan's next move will be to dribble and turn, get past Levi, and then take a step for a layup, which will be an easy thing for him.

Novan was relaxed. He dribbled and turned slowly as if playing a game, his body following muscle memory to complete the movements. His eyes were only on the basket, and he imagined playing with Kevin Durant and Kyrie Irving at Barclays Center. He imagined them scoring while he protected the basket and together they were going to win the championship.

What a wonderful prospect! He'll definitely be able to establish himself and make a name for himself on the Nets, a team lacking defense in the paint...

Novan Pellè's idyllic daydream was shattered by a hand. The instant he turned and dribbled inside, Levy reached behind him and knocked the ball from Pellè's grasp. The ball slipped from Pellè's control, rolling towards the sidelines and landing at McCallie's feet.

McCallian stopped the ball with his foot, bent down to pick it up, and threw it back to Pellè. "Good defense, let's do it again."

Pelle hadn't even realized what had happened, why the ball had been stolen. He shrugged and muttered to himself, "Too relaxed. I need to be a little more focused, bro. Pull yourself together, teach this guy a lesson, and then sign that contract with the Nets..."

Pelle realized he had been careless, too relaxed, his muscles were loose, and his concentration was lacking. He took a deep breath and became a little more serious. He scrutinized the young Chinese man in front of him, someone he hadn't even looked at properly before.

Standing at just over 2 meters tall, with a rather stocky build, he doesn't appear very agile. His wingspan is decent, but the muscle definition in his arms isn't particularly pronounced, and his body fat percentage might be a bit high. He's the kind of average Asian player who doesn't have many advantages besides his height, often becoming a liability in high-level competitions.

"Use stronger physical contact to push him aside, don't turn around, just drive straight to the basket and dunk, finish him off in one go."

Pellè is a center forward by trade. He doesn't have many fancy skills, and for professional players facing this kind of challenge, using their physical advantages to quickly finish the job is the most direct and effective method.

Pelle was eager to discuss a two-way contract with McCallien. After receiving the ball, he dribbled twice, lowered his head, and accelerated towards the basket, intending to use his strength and height advantage to directly drive into the paint and finish the game.

Pelle is 2.08 meters tall and weighs around 210 kilograms (231 pounds), classifying him as a medium-sized center. While his height, wingspan, and weight aren't particularly outstanding, shot-blocking is his greatest strength, making him the defensive anchor in the paint for every team he plays for.

Over the years, he has focused on honing his defense for his job, and on offense, he mainly trains his finishing ability. As a result, his dribbling center of gravity is a bit high, and his ball control is average.

Of course, against amateur players, his dribbling and offensive skills were more than enough. In his eyes, Li Wei was just an amateur rookie.

This time, Li Wei didn't give way. Instead, he slightly turned to the side and actively moved closer to seek contact. A direct head-on collision is a foul. Moving closer, matching the attacker's path, and engaging in some physical contact and confrontation is the correct defensive approach.

Levi was faster than Pelle expected, quickly closing the distance and blocking Pelle's path. Pelle didn't change direction; instead, he increased his speed, intending to use brute force to break through.

However, this time when the two collided, Pelle did not push Levi away. He felt as if he had crashed solidly into a wooden board, a very thick wooden board.

His balance and trajectory were instantly disrupted, and he needed to readjust his dribbling, but it was too late. Taking advantage of the brief moment of collision, Levi reached out and snatched the ball from Novan Pelle's hand again.

Pellè turned to try and win the ball back, but was entangled by Levi, and the ball rolled toward the corner of the field after the two touched each other.

"Ah Zhong!" Li Wei called out.

Ah Zhong, who was lying obediently in the corner of the court, ran to the ball, nudged it with his nose, and the ball rolled twice. He nudged it again, and it rolled twice more, quickly bringing the ball to the vicinity of the three-point line and passing it to Li Wei.

Li Wei picked up the ball, patted Ah Zhong on the head, and said, "Well done, Ah Zhong, but you traveled."

"Woof!" Ah Zhong barked, expressing his dissatisfaction. It's just a dog, how could it possibly dribble, and how could it be called a traveling violation?
As a Border Collie, Ah Zhong is quite intelligent. Apart from not being able to speak, his intelligence is comparable to that of a six or seven-year-old child. Recently, when Li Wei has been playing one-on-one matches, Ah Zhong would quietly watch from the sidelines, and head the ball back when it flew out of bounds.

Levy tossed the ball to Novan Pellè and said, "Third shot. If you still can't score, you'll have to donate $20 to Ah Zhong. Thanks." Pellè's face was grim. He glanced at McCallian on the sidelines. McCallian, who had been absent-minded with his arms crossed, looked much more serious, hands on his hips, watching the street duel intently.

Pelle thought to himself, "This is terrible. Will McCallum lower his opinion of me because of those two goals? It doesn't make sense. My strength is defense, not attacking with the ball. I shouldn't be defined by these street-style one-on-one games." But as a professional player, being dispossessed twice by an amateur was a huge loss of face. Maybe he should let the opponent attack, deliver a couple of big blocks, and improve his image a bit.

Pellè throws the ball back to Levi: "It's your turn to attack, I'll defend."

Li Wei laughed: "What, are you scared? Afraid of being stopped by me? You can't score over me. Tsk tsk, a professional player, I'm just an amateur. Besides, this is a no-scoring challenge, I'm on the defensive." He then tossed the ball to Pellè.

Pellè's face tightened from the comments. He knew he had to score, or he'd lose face. The cheerleaders nearby were whispering amongst themselves, probably saying this big black guy wasn't very good. More and more people gathered around the pitch.

Pellè dribbled the ball, his skillful crossover dribble making him look less like a center, but in reality, it's just a basic maneuver for any professional player. In a non-contact situation, every professional player is a master of fancy dribbling.

Pelle decided to use his dribbling skills to evade Levi, then finish with a floater or a close-range shot. He felt this kid was unpredictable; once you got close to him, his movements seemed predictable, and he could easily steal the ball.

"Boom, bang, bang!"

Beyond the three-point line, Pelle kept slapping the ball hard, making a thumping sound. Li Wei stood at the top of the free throw arc, lowered his center of gravity, opened his arms, and stared directly at Pelle.

Their eyes met, and Pelle looked directly into Levi's eyes for the first time. Single eyelids, dark pupils, and a gaze as steady and weighty as a mountain. An invisible pressure pressed down on Pelle, causing him to hesitate, as if the area inside the three-point line had become a no-go zone.

Pellè thought of one person—Anthony Davis.

"Hit! Hit! What are you dawdling for!"

The crowd watching from the sidelines started shouting. Pelle, who had been overly relaxed, was now overly tense. He knew this was unreasonable; he wasn't a rookie. He had been playing basketball for over a decade, and he was more skilled at handling a basketball than a woman's ball.

In high school, everyone thought he would definitely make it to the NBA and achieve great things. However, reality didn't go as planned. But overall, he could still make a living through basketball and wouldn't have to suffer from hunger and cold on the streets or even go to jail.

After a series of inexplicable thoughts, Pelle ultimately ended the attack with a three-pointer, a shot he wasn't particularly good at. The moment he released the ball, it felt wrong; it slammed against the front of the rim with a "thud," causing the surrounding vines to tremble.

Li Wei merely extended his hand symbolically without lunging forward. After missing the shot, he turned and ran to the basket to retrieve the ball, saying to Pelle, "20 dollars, thank you. Want to continue?"

Pelle gritted his teeth and said to continue. He adjusted his breathing and mindset, realizing that he had been too careless with the previous three goals. As long as he got serious, he could quickly crush Victor. On the sidelines, McCallian was no longer distracted, but was fully focused on this seemingly unfair offensive and defensive contest.

Pelle dribbled with his back to the basket, trying to force his way in, but was forced to travel by a bench being pulled away; Pelle then tried to force his way through with his body, but his intention was seen through and the ball was stolen again; Pelle forced a shot from the outside, but hesitated and the shot went wildly off target.

McCallian shook his head, thinking to himself that Pelle wasn't this bad during the previous tryouts. Of course, Pelle's strength was defense, but his defensive level didn't seem to match Levi's versatility and intelligence. This kid's defense was truly intelligent to a certain degree, and he was incredibly agile. Why had he never heard of such an outstanding defensive expert before in New York?
McCallian asked the smug-looking Luo Ping, who shrugged and said he'd only just discovered him himself, "He really is a gem, truly. He just needs to be unearthed, honed, and...packaged."

Luo Ping's eyes gleamed with fervor, while McCalil simply wondered if using this guy to fill the Nets' weak interior defense was feasible. It seemed like a pipe dream. Had this guy ever played in the NCAA? What were his past achievements? What were his physical test stats? What would his performance be like playing a full game?
McCallian had already started to consider studying Levi. His eyes remained fixed on the pitch; Pellè still couldn't score, and the expression on his face was almost tearful—it was quite amusing.

McCallian admitted to himself that Levi's defense wasn't the most intense or the most technically outstanding he had ever seen, but it was likely the smartest, the most prescient, and possessed a unique charisma.

In two rounds, McCallen stood on the sidelines, feeling Levi's aura, and felt himself intimidated; this subtle feeling was truly elusive.

Completely absorbed in the moment, McCallian had forgotten to look at his phone, so he didn't even notice when the screen lit up. A message popped up on his home screen, displaying: "In a surprising four-team trade, the Rockets sent James Harden to the Brooklyn Nets."

(End of this chapter)