NABC This is the first time I've seen a request like this in Chapter 3.
This is the first time I've seen a request like this in Chapter 3.
Du Ze didn't go anywhere else. After returning to his dormitory, he washed up and went to bed in a hurry.
I don't know if it was because my body was still excited from exercising, or because I was too mentally exhausted after transmigrating, but as soon as my head hit the pillow, I fell into a deep sleep.
I don't know how much time has passed.
A violent shaking abruptly pulled him from his sleep.
When I opened my eyes, Lawrence's suffocatingly ugly face was right in front of me again.
Du Ze was startled again, and jumped up like a frightened bird, desperately shrinking back until he was in the corner of the bed.
Then, the two of them just stared at each other, looking at each other blankly.
Finally, Lawrence spoke first: "Get up quickly, we'll meet at the training hall at 7:30."
Hearing this, Du Ze's heart, which had been hanging in his throat, finally settled back into his stomach.
As long as Lawrence doesn't criticize him, everything is negotiable.
Watching Lawrence go to the outer room to wash up, Du Ze slowly relaxed, moved back to the head of the bed, and picked up the brick-like Nokia phone. The screen showed 6:20.
This is really bad.
I have to get up before dawn, and I don't know when this will end.
But he dared not delay.
We're supposed to meet at 7:30, we can't just wait until 7:28 to arrive, can we?
He resolutely resisted this irresponsible training attitude in his actions, but inwardly he greatly approved of it.
Dragging his heavy body, he yawned several times before finally managing to move to the outer room.
Lawrence was wiping his face in the basin when he saw Du Ze come in. His mouth moved, his two pink, sausage-like lips opened and closed.
Du Ze couldn't bear to look at him, picked up his toothbrush, and pretended to be very focused on squeezing toothpaste.
Lawrence finished wiping his face, hung up the towel, and went back to his room, but for some reason, he quickly came back: "Yesterday... I was so worried about you, that's why..."
Du Ze's hands stopped abruptly. He paused for a moment before realizing what was happening and quickly stopped him, saying, "Matt, forget about this and never mention it again."
He became more and more agitated as he spoke, even spraying toothpaste foam from his mouth: "I'm talking about forever, remember, forever."
Lawrence reacted quickly, immediately feigning ignorance and shrugging: "Wow, what is it? I have no idea what you're talking about."
Before the words were even finished, the person had already slipped out.
Du Ze was left alone in front of the washbasin, grieving in front of the mirror.
After a while, he picked up the toothbrush again and scrubbed vigorously, as if trying to wash away something unclean.
Never mind, psychological impurities are impurities too.
Not long after, the two dressed neatly and went out, but first bought breakfast before heading to the training hall.
On the way, Lawrence, munching on a dry piece of whole-wheat bread, asked with a puzzled look, "You never eat these things before, what's wrong with you today?"
Du Ze took a big bite of toast and then gulped down an ice-cold drink, feeling a bit better: "The past is the past, the present is the present. I like hamburgers and fried chicken, I like Coca-Cola, is that illegal?"
His body template is permanently bound to Josh Smith, and if he understands correctly, his weight and body fat should also be fixed, so what difference does it make if he eats?
Anyway, I won't gain weight.
Lawrence muttered, "Come on, Du, it's just that I didn't catch you yesterday, is it really necessary to be angry now?"
Du Ze ignored him and walked straight into the locker room corridor.
Is it a matter of catching it or not?
This is something a man cannot tolerate, aren't you angry?
How could I not be angry?
I'm absolutely furious!
Lawrence had no choice but to follow behind, feeling rather dejected.
After changing their clothes, the two quickly arrived at the training hall.
Time: 7:12.
The training hall was already bustling with activity.
From afar, Duze spotted DeMarre Carroll, the absolute core of their Missouri Tigers and a future NBA powerhouse.
However, at this time, Carol had not yet grown a full beard or tied her hair in that broom-like style, so she didn't look particularly fierce; instead, she had a rather handsome appearance.
But Carroll's voice wasn't as gentle as his appearance; it was a gruff, booming voice: "Matt, Wardfa, what the hell are you doing? What time is it? Tomorrow we're fighting for the championship, and you…"
As he spoke, he pointed at Du Ze: "And you, you don't show any of the crazy, bloodthirsty look that's chasing the championship."
Lawrence snorted twice and said threateningly, "Don't worry, I guarantee Cornell will be pissing his ass tomorrow."
Yes, their first-round opponent is Cornell University.
The others joined in the commotion, chanting in unison, "Make Cornell run away in a panic!"
Judging from the atmosphere, the Missouri Tigers have a really good sense of team cohesion.
Carroll walked over with the ball in his arms: "Durant, are you still asleep? Hurry up and come over here and beat me."
As soon as he finished speaking, he hurled the ball at him.
Du Ze easily took it and chuckled, "Okay."
Seriously... this is the first time he's ever heard of someone asking someone to beat him up.
Alright, since they've already said that, being polite any further would seem hypocritical. So today, I'll use you, this old fogey, as my first target.
This tough guy, who later earned the nickname "Trash Dog," was no pushover. His biting defense was quite famous.
Of course, "trash dog" here is not an insult, but rather a description of his indomitable tenacity.
This is mainly related to Carroll's life experiences.
He only received a three-star high school rating during his high school years, and in his first year at Vanderbilt University, he averaged just over four points per game, making him a minor player on the bench.
In my junior year of college, things were just starting to look up when, while I was picking up girls at a hotel, someone generously offered me peanuts, which hit my calf. Luckily, I didn't injure my Achilles tendon, which is why I was able to continue playing basketball.
After recovering from his injury, he transferred to Missouri and finally delivered a stellar performance this season, averaging 16.8 points and 7.5 rebounds per game, making him the undisputed core of the Missouri Tigers.
When I had a physical exam recently, oh dear! I have chronic liver disease. Although it won't kill me immediately and has a limited impact on exercise, it is still a glaringly obvious risk of injury.
In addition, he is already a senior in college. Born in July 86, he will soon be twenty-three years old.
This year's NCAA tournament is arguably his last hope of making it to the NBA, so he's naturally more anxious than anyone else.
Carol took a step back, slowly bent over, and a sinister smile appeared on her face: "Let's begin."
The two are teammates, often play bullfighting, and know each other very well.
Du Ze's ball-handling offense is very average, even rough. His main role on the team has always been to protect the rim in the paint, contributing on the defensive end with his height and wingspan. Defense is the foundation of his career.
Therefore, Carroll likes to hire tall and big Duzes for bullfighting.
Of course, calling it a "bullfight" is really just using Du Ze as a sparring partner to improve one's skills.
Du Ze knew this perfectly well.
But what does it matter?
He touched the ball and tried dribbling it between his legs.
When I flicked the ball back, because I was so unfamiliar with the ball, the ball's trajectory was broken in half, and it bounced back right to my crotch.
The next second, it was snatched away by Carol's outstretched long arm.
Carroll slammed the ball down and started taunting him over the loudspeaker: "Durant, why are you feeding yourself the ball in your crotch?"
The teammates who were watching the commotion immediately burst into laughter.
Du Ze simply shrugged, smiled, and said nothing.
He hasn't regained his muscle memory yet, so he can't really talk about ball feel. It's perfectly normal for him to lose the ball while dribbling.
But when it comes to defense, there aren't so many rules.
The shift from offense to defense.
Carroll dribbled the ball, deliberately performing a series of fancy moves, flipping it up, down, left, and right.
Finally, he stared at Du Ze and said, "It's starting."
The words were spoken.
He suddenly pushed off the ground and, leaning against Du Ze's body, broke through in an instant.
He drove straight to the basket.
Take off.
With a gentle flick of the wrist, the ball spun and flew toward the basket.
As soon as Carroll landed, he turned around, intending to mock Duze's terrible defense, but he saw Duze's towering figure looming over him, slapping the ball away from his head.
boom!
The entire room fell silent.