Chapter 6: Tang, I Want You to Rule the Restricted Zone

“This is his physical test data. In my view, he’s another Shaquille O’Neal—the only difference is his fundamental basketball skills and technique,” Eric Fletcher said as he sat down, pulling three folded sheets of white paper from his pocket and handing one to each of the two men.

These three general managers had been specially invited through his connections, and he had even found two live commentators, paying a price to have them help promote Tang Bei’s draft prospects. He had truly invested heavily for this.

Unfortunately, Jerry West, the most influential and closest contact, had suddenly left for unknown reasons.

“Another O’Neal?” Rick Sand chuckled inwardly.

Shaquille O’Neal’s draft dossier with the Mavericks was two feet thick—filled with records from high school to NCAA training and games, detailed down to each day.

In short, O’Neal was a monstrous figure that made Rick drool. Was Fletcher crazy to compare a Chinese player to O’Neal?

Rick unfolded the paper and examined the data. A hint of mockery flickered across his eyes, but more so there was displeasure.

He immediately spotted glaring issues with the dynamic athletic ability data—it was way off.

First, the strength: a max bench press of 230 kilograms? Who was he trying to fool? That’s even greater than Karl Malone’s strength.

Next, the vertical leap, which supposedly surpassed O’Neal’s—how was that possible?

And the 40-yard dash time had to be fake.

Tang Bei’s 40-yard dash was listed as 4.45 seconds, while O’Neal’s was clearly recorded at 4.6 seconds.

One of the reasons scouts regarded O’Neal’s athleticism as historic was precisely his 40-yard dash speed, exceptional for a heavy center’s body but with the sprint speed of a small forward.

Tang Bei was only 1.5 kilograms lighter and 3 centimeters shorter than O’Neal, yet his sprint time was 0.15 seconds faster—how could that be?

Rick had come out of respect for Larry Fletcher, but Eric Fletcher had handed him a forged physical test report.

The problem was this data was so fake it lacked any sincerity. If you’re going to fake it, at least do it properly. This made Rick quite unhappy.

Jim Brewer also disbelieved it. If the dynamic athletic numbers were true, then this draft year would indeed be extraordinary—a big man’s draft year.

But was this data real?

In NBA history, monsters like Shaquille O’Neal were exceedingly rare; no one believed two would appear simultaneously.

Besides, Tang Bei was Chinese. Their minds still clung to stereotypes of the “Sick Man of East Asia,” unwilling to accept that a Chinese player could possess talent rivaling O’Neal’s.

Seeing their expressions, Eric Fletcher didn’t argue but confidently said, “Gentlemen, let’s let the facts speak. You’ll soon witness his talent, and then you’ll be thanking me for inviting you here.”

“That kid... Could he really be for real?”

“How could a Chinese player have such talent?”

Seeing Fletcher’s confidence, the two men were taken aback, but their ingrained prejudice prevented them from truly believing in Tang Bei’s potential.

Soon after, with five minutes left in the first quarter, the score was 16-12, the Kelp team trailing by four points. They called a timeout.

“Tang, you’re in.”

Coach Mace Lance made his lineup adjustments, calling Tang Bei up from the bench.

Kelp’s first backup center, Jack Wilson, was displeased about losing his opportunity but dared not protest for fear of reprisal.

“Coach.”

Tang Bei, about to play his first professional game, suppressed his excitement and nervousness, approaching the coach with a calm demeanor.

“Tang, your opponents don’t have your level of talent. I want you to dominate the paint.”

Thinking of Tang Bei’s terrifying dunk in practice, Mace Lance said firmly.

At the commentary booth, the bearded commentator Chuckly Hans proclaimed loudly, “Ladies and gentlemen, the Kelp team has brought in rookie Tang Bei, a gifted Chinese player.”

Bald commentator Baron Ross read out Tang Bei’s physical test data and added, “Tang Bei’s results are excellent—he truly possesses top-tier talent.”

Chuckly Hans feigned amazement, “Yes, his static athleticism rivals O’Neal’s, and in terms of dynamic ability—strength, speed, vertical leap—he surpasses O’Neal. Absolutely top-level talent.”

The two commentators enthusiastically promoted Tang Bei, but this angered many fans in the arena.

“God, I think those are Shaq’s test numbers, not that Chinese player’s. This is a scam.”

“I seriously doubt the authenticity of these numbers.”

“Shameful! With such talent, why is he playing in the CBA? Do they think we’re fools?”

“Hey, you two idiots, shut up.”

The arena was small, and nearby fans erupted into debate upon hearing the data. Almost none believed its authenticity—just like Jerry West and the others.

After being jeered at by fans, the two commentators awkwardly smiled and quickly ended the topic.

The timeout ended, players returned to the court, and the Kelp team inbounded the ball.

Small forward David Miles threw the ball from the baseline to point guard Tom Morris, who advanced with the ball.

On the left low post, Tang Bei positioned himself back-to-back with Swift Porter.

Swift Porter was a muscular black big man, listed at 208 centimeters and 128 kilograms according to team info.

Seeing the ball handler Morris approach the arc, Porter quickly pivoted and slipped toward the baseline, aiming to cut inside.

Porter’s turn was slow, and he lost defensive position.

“Not bad speed,” Rick Sand thought, surprised by Tang Bei’s sudden baseline slip—far more agile than he had imagined, moving with the sleekness of a shark.

“Could his dynamic athleticism really rival O’Neal’s?” he wondered.

Tang Bei quickly boxed out under the basket, spreading his arms wide and lowering into a Tai Chi stance, aiming to hold off Porter.

But Porter didn’t back down. Instead, he charged into Tang Bei’s back, throwing an elbow in an attempt to use his strength and mass to knock him over.

“Boom!”

They collided.

In the fierce contact, Tang Bei’s upper body swayed forward, instantly dissipating most of the impact force. Supported by immense core and lower body strength, his low stance maintained an unshakable grip on the ground.

Only the elbow jab behind him caused slight discomfort, but his muscles and bones were like steel, rendering the pain negligible.

That elbow also made him realize the CBA’s physical intensity was far greater than that of his hometown games.

“Impossible!” Porter thought in shock. At 128 kilograms plus momentum, how could he fail to push this guy back?

“Such overwhelming strength! Such fierce physicality!”

“Could he really be a gem?”

On the sidelines, with just one positional battle and body contact, Rick Sand and Jim Brewer, the two general managers, instantly straightened up, fully alert.

“Pass it in there!”

Coach Mace Lance pointed to the basket, shouting confidently.

At the arc, Morris noticed Tang Bei under the basket and lobbed the ball in.

But then, Seagulls’ power forward Carl Lewis returned to defend.

Weighing 125 kilograms, he pressed against Tang Bei’s front, his thick right elbow pushing into his chest, defending aggressively. His left elbow swung menacingly toward Tang Bei’s head.

Against this Chinese player, his defense was even rougher and wilder than usual, showing no restraint.

“Get lost!”

Seeing the lob drop, Tang Bei used his right forearm to forcefully push, unleashing immense absolute strength to shove Carl Lewis away, narrowly avoiding the elbow strike.

In the next instant, he sprang up through the gap, caught the ball midair, spun halfway around, and thunderously dunked with both hands.

“Bang!”

The rim sagged violently, threatening to collapse, the resounding slam echoing throughout the Dennis Arena.

Carl Lewis was knocked over, utterly embarrassed.

He was terrified—never before had he faced such a fierce opponent, one who made him feel utterly powerless. Fear began to grow in his heart.

“…”

Bald commentator Baron Ross widened his eyes. Could this Chinese player really be another Shaquille O’Neal?

He then shouted excitedly, “An alley-oop dunk! Did you see that? Tang completed an alley-oop dunk amidst a double team!”

“Seagulls, are you feeling afraid yet?”

The hefty commentator Chuckly Hans also roared with excitement, “Tang is bringing you fear—I wasn’t lying.”

“Clap, clap, clap…”

Seeing this, the previously skeptical fans were stunned before breaking into applause.

Jim Brewer said seriously, “He truly has explosive power. His speed can’t be slow. Coupled with elite static athleticism, he’s definitely a lottery pick. This trip was worth it.”

Rick Sand looked at the test data in his hand, smiled, and said to the beaming Fletcher, “Eric, you really did find an impressive big man.”

Eric Fletcher smiled confidently, “I’d bet my life that even if Tang’s skills are poor, his talent alone will allow him to overpower every opponent in the low post tonight—NBA opponents included.”