Chapter Twenty-Seven: Cat and Mouse

For Gan Guoyang, the game had not truly begun yet.

From the moment the pre-game warm-ups started, Gan had been observing his opponents, Lihua High School.

The team was not particularly tall on average, but they were well-ordered and sported uniform hairstyles. It was clearly a disciplined, collective-oriented squad that would, in all likelihood, play at a fast pace. To crush a team like this, one had to dismantle their collective nature, ideally forcing them into a game of individual efforts.

Five minutes into the game, Gan observed that their number 5, the point guard Wang Tianduo, was the heart of Lihua’s offense. He possessed experienced ball-handling and alert defensive instincts; he even managed to humiliate Gan once with a behind-the-back pass during a drive. Everyone else followed his lead—he was undoubtedly the team’s brain.

Gan had already set his sights on him.

However, before dealing with Wang, Gan spent the first five minutes building his teammates' confidence and dispelling their nervousness. During those five minutes, he did not take a single shot himself. Instead, he constantly created opportunities for Chen Xing, Xu Xun, and the others, letting them shoot while he focused on providing support with offensive rebounds.

With Gan’s constant control of the rebounds in the paint, Chen Xing and his teammates gradually stopped being fearful and hesitant. They began shooting boldly, knowing that even if they missed, someone was there to clean up.

Gan displayed a massive advantage in speed, strength, and agility. He remembered that when he built characters in 2K, the attributes he prioritized right after strength, shooting, and blocking were rebounding. Beyond physical gifts, rebounding was actually about the mind and the desire to grab the ball. Anticipating the trajectory before the shot, along with flexible and precise positioning, was far more important than jumping ability or height.

Gan seemed to possess an uncanny ability to predict the ball’s path. He would always establish his position early, securing offensive rebounds from the hands of two or three opponents. This was fueled by his observation of his teammates; he knew the shooting habits of Chen Xing, Daxiong, Xu Xun, and Gan Guohui inside and out. Who tended to overshoot, who tended to undershoot, whose arc was flat, and who always hit the front rim—all these factors affected the ball’s bounce and, consequently, Gan’s positioning.

Everything happened silently in his mind; no one knew how he found the landing spot of the ball. Most people simply assumed it was because he was the tallest with the longest arms and the most strength.

Consecutively losing defensive rebounds dealt a heavy blow to Lihua’s morale. The advantage they had gained from two early steals and successful fast breaks quickly evaporated as they lost rebound after rebound. The Lihua coach kept reminding his players to secure the boards, box out early, and not let that number 11 get the ball easily. But Lihua’s two interior players knew better: that number 11 was not just tall with long arms; he was fast, incredibly agile, and possessed an extraordinary nose for the ball.

"He’s not even on the same level as us. He’s just toying with us."

The experienced veterans on Lihua who understood the game well already had a sinking feeling that they couldn't possibly beat Beiqiao. In high school basketball, a dominant interior player is a decisive factor; no matter how hard you fight back, it is difficult to overcome.

Of course, the younger players, full of grit and youthful fire, still felt the game was young and had only just begun. Wang Tianduo was one of them. He was a sophomore, 15 years old, who had started playing in elementary school and had become the core of Lihua High. His dream was to play for the University of San Francisco and become a Chinese-American college player in the NCAA.

He had heard of Gan Guoyang recently. He hadn't seen him play, only knowing that people were amazed by him, calling him the hope of Chinese basketball. Young players on the court are naturally defiant; after hearing so much praise for someone else before the game, he was annoyed and determined to defeat Gan.

It was only after they clashed that he realized this Gan Guoyang was truly strong. He had already been blocked twice in the paint. This guy’s shot-blocking was terrifying, but that didn't mean he had no chance.

"Hey! Wang Tianduo, did you hear what I said? We need to be more patient in our set offense."

Wang nodded, but he didn't take the coach’s words to heart, his mind occupied with how to deal with Gan Guoyang on the court.

The timeout ended, and play resumed. Xu Xun stood at the free-throw line and sank both shots, giving Beiqiao a 10-6 lead. Wang Tianduo dribbled across mid-court to orchestrate the offense.

In the 1980s, without a three-point line, set offenses were played in tight spaces. Perimeter players generally kept their center of gravity high to facilitate pull-up jumpers and back-to-the-basket moves. Their dribbling was simple and unadorned, characterized by a side-on stance, using their buttocks to protect the ball because defenders could reach in to disrupt them.

Driving was difficult; there would always be a big man planted in the paint, and challenging him was no easy task. Street-style crossovers, exaggerated swings, and continuous between-the-legs dribbling hadn't been brought into school games yet; coaches didn't allow players to play that way.

In Gan’s eyes, these Lihua players were all too slow. From center to guard, he could easily keep up with any of them. He could even intentionally leave the paint, creating a gap to lure his opponent in, only to swoop in and swat them with a massive block.

This was "fishing" defense.

However, when he exposed a gap this time, Wang Tianduo utilized a screen to cut into the paint, using his speed to shake off Gan’s defense and score a layup!

After scoring, Wang exhaled a long breath. He had seized the opening and hadn't been intimidated by Gan’s blocking.

Gan appeared impassive. He silently inbounded the ball and continued to act as an offensive rebounder on the other end. Beiqiao’s offense was simple: with Gan barely attacking in the low post, it was just Chen Xing and Xu Xun taking turns driving to the rim. If they made it, they made it; if they didn't, Gan would grab the offensive rebound for a put-back or kick it out to a teammate. Others would throw up mid-range shots when they had an opening, and if they missed, Gan would grab those too.

It was crude and simple, yet it constantly pressured Lihua, maintaining a lead of about five points. Gan looked somewhat tired from the constant rebounding, while his teammates' offensive efficiency was admittedly low.

On Lihua’s side, Wang Tianduo became the most efficient scorer. He repeatedly cut to the hoop for layups, scoring eight consecutive points to keep Lihua within reach.

During a first-half timeout, Bellman asked Gan: "Lock that number 5 down. He’s blown by you several times. Where is your speed?"

Gan replied, "He can pass; I have to keep an eye on his teammates."

"Shut him down completely; you have the ability to do it!"

"I know, I will. Don't worry."

Bellman felt as if he were punching cotton when dealing with Gan. It was his first time coaching a player like this—he seemed to listen to everything, yet he wasn't listening at all. He didn't understand why Gan wouldn't attack himself or why he wouldn't lock down his opponent on defense. At the Excel in Basketball camp, during team scrimmages, the opponent's offense would grind to a complete halt whenever Gan willed it.

Lihua High was indeed well-drilled, and the players were decent, but they were third or fourth-tier by San Francisco standards; there were no truly gifted players among them. A single glance from Bellman told him that none of them would make it to an NCAA Division I school, let alone the NBA. Well, perhaps if that number 5 grew a few more inches, he might have a shot at a Division II college.

The first half ended with Beiqiao leading Lihua 29-24. Gan Guoyang had recorded 11 points and 21 rebounds, including 12 offensive rebounds.

In the dilapidated locker room, Bellman held the stat sheet and said to Gan, "If you had attacked the rim directly on those 12 offensive rebounds, your score would be double what it is now!"

Gan shrugged and said, "What about my teammates? Besides, what’s the difference between winning by 100 points and winning by one?"

Bellman had no words. He felt the game was completely under Gan’s control.

Just then, a mouse scurried out of a locker, startling everyone. Those afraid of mice even screamed, but Gan stepped forward and pinned the mouse's tail with his foot. After letting it struggle for a moment, he picked it up and tossed it out of the locker room.

"Leave it be, I’m not going to eat it anyway," Gan said.

A thought flashed through Bellman’s mind: Gan Guoyang was like a cat playing with the mouse he had caught. Lihua High was that mouse. And this was merely the first official game of his career.

As the second half began, Gan decided to end the game. He once again left a gap in his defense, clearing the restricted area to lure Wang Tianduo into a layup. Wang had scored a team-high 13 points in the first half—two more than Gan—but he only had one assist. He believed this game was a duel between the two of them, a dragon-and-tiger struggle like Jabbar vs. Irving.

When Wang drove into the paint again, his layup was emphatically swatted away by Gan. The ball hadn't even left his hand; he was pinned, man and ball, from the air and crashed heavily to the floor.

The referee didn't blow the whistle. It was a clean play; Gan had taken possession of the ball.

This time, Gan didn't pass to Chen Xing. He dribbled across the court himself. He was fast, like a heavy truck picking up speed, and no one dared to stand in his way. He charged through the entire court, drove into the paint, and finished with a one-handed gliding slam!

The Kezar Pavilion erupted in thunderous cheers; even the Lihua students couldn't help but gasp. After the basket, Gan silently ran back to the backcourt to direct his team’s defense.

Wang Tianduo’s head was buzzing. Refusing to accept reality, he saw an opening in the paint and drove in again. This time he slowed down, adjusted his body, and used a series of pump fakes, but he couldn't get Gan to bite.

The play died, and Gan immediately stuck to him like glue; Wang had no choice but to pass the ball away. His teammates took shots, but they had lost their rhythm and kept clanking them off the iron. Their collective offense was shattered; they hadn't put together a decent set play all half.

Gan grabbed the defensive rebound and gave it to Chen Xing, signaling for him to set up a play. Once they crossed half-court, Gan established deep post position near the basket. Chen Xing delivered a timely lob. Gan caught it, turned, and finished with a two-handed dunk. The defender couldn't even resist.

It was impossible to resist; the gap in strength was too vast. Although Gan didn't train for strength after practice to avoid closing his growth plates, his natural talent made his strength second to none. Only now did his defenders realize that the first half had just been a game.

Wang Tianduo still wouldn't give up. He didn't realize the truth, so he charged toward the bait for a third time. This time, he opted for a short-range pull-up jumper, only to see a massive palm looming ever closer, swatting the shot mid-air. The ball fell into Gan’s hands, and he launched a super-long one-handed outlet pass to the front court. Chen Xing caught it under the basket for an easy layup.

At the start of the second half, Beiqiao went on a 6-0 run, and Lihua called a timeout!

Only then did Wang Tianduo understand: his successful drives in the first half were nothing more than a trap—a psychological trap. He had thought he could compete on individual ability, but he had ignored team organization. They had lost their synergy and, lacking coordination, had gradually crumbled into a disorganized mess.

In the second half, as soon as Gan applied pressure and exerted his will, they were about to be scattered by the wind. For a 15-year-old boy, his confidence was gradually collapsing. He realized that this number 11 was a monster he could never look up to on the basketball court.