Chapter 101: Fierce Battle at Nine Pines Gymnasium (Part Two)

Tao Zheyong had received the most orthodox basketball education from a young age. His father was a college basketball coach himself. Though neither an outstanding player nor a remarkable coach, he managed to cultivate his son’s talent. By the age of fifteen, Tao Zheyong had already played for the national youth team and was hailed as the next-generation center for the Republic.

Tao Zheyong was no stranger to setbacks. During his time with the national youth team, he believed he should be the team’s starting center. However, whenever he faced Yao Yuan, who was a year younger, he found himself completely outmatched. In terms of both physicality and skill, he was suppressed by his teammate Yao Yuan. The proud Tao Zheyong found this hard to accept. He worked tirelessly, driven by nothing more than the desire to surpass Yao Yuan.

In Tao Zheyong’s mind, there was hardly anyone in the current opposing team worth his attention. The white-haired point guard, renowned for his precise outside shooting, floated beyond the arc and didn’t fit the modern style of basketball. Thus, Tao Zheyong played the first half of the opening quarter with great ease.

However, after Hawur stepped onto the court, Tao Zheyong began to feel a spark of irritation. This Uyghur youngster, a full head shorter than Tao Zheyong, gave him a taste of real strength and tenacity.

Hawur constantly fought for position with Tao Zheyong, never relenting, even when the situation was not particularly critical. He relentlessly fronted Tao, employing every means possible.

Yes, fronting defense—this was the strategy Wang Lei had taught Hawur. Wang Lei told him, “If you want to defend an inside player taller than yourself, you must front him well. This may not completely neutralize your opponent, but it will certainly make him uncomfortable.”

Hawur lacked neither strength nor stamina. The only thing missing was experience. In terms of concentration, he was no less focused than Turghun, who devoted himself entirely to basketball.

Hawur took Wang Lei’s words to heart. Since the coach wanted him to front his opponent ruthlessly and disregard everything else, he did his utmost to fulfill this task.

Tao Zheyong felt as though he were stuck to a piece of chewed, sticky gum—no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake off his opponent. Unconsciously, his temper began to flare. He had come to the National Games youth tournament to win the championship; how could he allow himself to be restrained by an unknown upstart?

Tao Zheyong began to demand the ball from his teammates, determined to teach this pesky, shorter Uyghur center a lesson.

Seeing their opponent looking to force the offense, Wang Lei immediately signaled his players from the sidelines to be ready to help on defense. Since Hawur was fronting, someone had to rotate behind him to provide cover.

Basketball is universally known as a team sport. Yet, truth be told, one of the main reasons it captivates so many fans is the spectacle of individual brilliance. Still, anyone who has truly played the game knows that creating opportunities for star players to go one-on-one is a legitimate tactic, but endless isolation plays rarely make for good strategy.

As Tao Zheyong began playing solo, the Capital Youth Team’s offensive efficiency began to drop. Previously, their strategy was a more balanced inside-outside approach, only taking shots after finding the optimal opportunity. Now, with Tao Zheyong’s temper flaring, he ignored these principles. Though he was formidable enough to score even against the double-team of the Frontier Youth Team, this new approach undeniably reduced the team’s overall efficiency.

By the end of the first quarter, the Frontier Youth Team had quietly managed to take a five-point lead.

Both teams rotated their lineups in the second quarter. Cai Aihong took the floor to lead the substitutes, but Hawur remained on the court as well. Though Hawur had expended considerable energy defending Tao Zheyong, Wang Lei knew that, in terms of stamina, his team was the toughest among all the youth squads.

When Turghun came off the court, he appeared somewhat frustrated. Throughout the first quarter, he had barely touched the ball, running up and down with nothing to show for his efforts—not a single point or stat. This left him deeply dissatisfied.

But Wang Lei didn’t let Turghun idle. Bringing him to his side, Wang Lei discussed team tactics and shared his basketball philosophy, making sure Turghun remained mentally engaged. After all, when people are idle, their minds tend to wander.

The Capital Youth Team’s overall strength was impressive; their substitutes played with discipline and structure. However, with both Hawur and Cai Aihong on the court, the Frontier Youth Team gained a slight advantage. Cai Aihong’s mid-range jumper remained reliable, and, with Hawur’s physicality, the Capital Youth Team found themselves struggling on both ends of the floor.

The score remained tight, with the Frontier Youth Team always maintaining a three-to-four-point lead.

When Tao Zheyong came off to rest, he was scolded by Liu Sicheng, who would not tolerate Tao Zheyong’s temper. Liu Sicheng’s desire for control was even stronger than most imagined; he wouldn’t allow his players to act recklessly on the court.

After less than five minutes’ rest, Turghun was sent back onto the court by Wang Lei, this time with a new assignment: to focus on scoring.

Having observed the first quarter, Liu Sicheng’s dismissive attitude toward Wang Lei began to disappear. He hadn’t expected this rascal to be so sharp and adaptive with his lineup changes, putting him in a difficult position—should he continue double-teaming the main scoring threat or not?

Nevertheless, Liu Sicheng did not lightly alter his approach. He continued to have his players double-team and tightly guard Turghun, being a man who did not easily change his mind.

Upon returning to the court, Turghun took over as the primary ball handler. Though he was eager to get on the scoreboard, he did not forget Wang Lei’s instructions: always adapt to the situation. Shooting over defenders might look impressive, but if the shot didn’t fall, it was pointless.

Since the opponent persisted in double-teaming him, Turghun consciously called for screens from Cai Aihong and Hawur. Though simple, the pick-and-roll, combined with Cai Aihong’s reliable mid-range shot and Turghun’s long-range ability, became a potent weapon.

Still, Turghun did not force shots. More often, he created opportunities for his teammates. It had to be said, this young man, not yet seventeen, was maturing rapidly. His passing instincts had improved greatly with recent training, and he often delivered creative assists. Having never received formal basketball education, he was unbound by convention, free to use his imagination.

In the latter half of the second quarter, the Capital Youth Team also returned to their opening style of play, and the score remained neck and neck.