The Golden Age of Basketball

Cancer ultimately defeated Gan Guoyang's trio with ease, 10:4.

In the second half of the game, their intense close-quarters defense destroyed the opposition's offense.

When the game ended, Gan Guohui sat on the ground, gasping for breath, his sports vest completely soaked through.

Chen Xing, usually known for his good endurance, was also leaning on his knees, panting heavily. The short 10-point game took a surprising toll on their physical stamina.

Only Guoyang remained unfazed, not even out of breath, showing almost no physical strain, yet his expression was far from pleased.

They lost, and lost badly.

He exhibited his talent, but also exposed his weaknesses.

Defense can rely on the body and awareness, but offense requires ample experience and attention to detail.

The audience was undoubtedly disappointed as Cancer crushed yet another opponent.

This tall Chinese man was certainly talented, but he still seemed too green.

He couldn't even complete one effective post-up move.

Raven, Pitman, and White came over to shake hands with Guoyang.

White said in a lecturing tone, "You need more practice, you're too rough."

Gan Guoyang clenched his fists, feeling utterly miserable about losing.

You couldn't just hit someone; matters in basketball had to be resolved with basketball.

Rochambeau Court remained Raven's domain, as Gan's trio left with their first taste of defeat.

Before they left, Kapu-Lavin called out to Guoyang, "I'm Kapu-Lavin, an English teacher. When you're free, I'd like to talk with you about basketball. Can I have your phone number and address?"

Guoyang had heard from Chen Xing that this Kapu was a basketball celebrity in the San Francisco Area; knowing him might get some basketball help.

Without thinking too much about it, Guoyang took a business card from Gan's Restaurant out of his pocket and handed it to Kapu, "This is our family restaurant. Come over for a meal sometime, and we can chat."

Kapu-Lavin smiled and accepted Guoyang's card. Seeing Guoyang's aggrieved appearance, he knew losing was no fun, so he refrained from giving any more advice. He sighed as he watched the trio leave, "If he had started professional basketball training earlier, he might have been quite a player in the NCAA."

Kapu-Lavin regretted that Gan Guoyang's talent hadn't been cultivated in time, but clearly he didn't understand Gan Guoyang's true skill.

Of course, no one knew that aside from Gan Guoyang himself.

That evening, after dinner at Gan's Restaurant, Gan Youwei could tell his son wasn't in the best of moods.

He was serious and exceptionally diligent in his chores, sometimes even letting out soft sighs.

"Guoyang, how was your day today? Everything okay?"

Gan Youwei didn't know how to begin, so he asked vaguely.

Gan Guoyang wanted to say "I'm fine." He usually didn't share his worries and problems with his father.

Partly because he didn't want to explain and partly because he didn't want his father to worry—not that his father's worry would help.

But looking into his father's eyes full of concern, and thinking of the basketball shoes his father bought for him, Gan Guoyang scratched his head and said, "I played a game today and lost badly."

Gan Youwei suddenly understood and rubbed his hands, "I don't understand basketball, but winning and losing is common in war, right? Losing means you have flaws. If you fix them, you can get better. So losing isn't necessarily bad. Isn't that right?"

"Yeah, you're right," Guoyang replied.

After that, Gan Youwei didn't have much else to say, as that sentence had already exhausted his linguistic talent.

So father and son remained silent.

"Dad, how's the business at the restaurant lately?" Gan Guoyang broke the silence.

"So-so. We've been getting a decent number of delivery orders lately, but it's tough on you."

"It's not that tough on me... Dad, when will you teach me Gan's cuisine?"

"What, you lost one basketball game and now you don't want to play anymore? You want to learn to cook instead?"

"No, I was just asking. Haven't you always said you would teach me?"

"Alright, follow me."

So Gan Youwei took Gan Guoyang to the kitchen, proclaiming he would teach him the first dish of Gan's cuisine: "Crystal Sweet and Sour Pork."

"Crystal Sweet and Sour Pork?" Gan Guoyang felt he had heard of this dish before.

"Dad, is this dish hard to make?"

"It's not so hard, but also not so simple. Many people can make Sweet and Sour Pork, but for Crystal Sweet and Sour Pork, I bet no one in America can make it. Still, it is just an introductory dish," said Gan Youwei with a light tone.

Upon hearing these words, Gan Guoyang realized that his reticent father actually possessed great abilities, he simply lacked the stage to showcase them.

Gan Guoyang had a natural talent for cooking and was further guided by his father's verbal and practical teachings. In a little over an hour, he was able to pick up most of the intricacies of this challenging dish, enough to put on an act.

Seeing his son's cleverness and quick learning in the kitchen, a smile spread across Gan Youwei's face, but it was unclear if he knew his son was humoring him.

That night, back in his tiny bedroom, Gan Guoyang lay on his extended hard-board bed. His thoughts were not on Crystal Sweet and Sour Pork, but on basketball.

Gan Guoyang wasn't dwelling on the failure from the afternoon; in basketball, no one wins forever, unless you quit before you lose.

What really made him restless was how to continue improving himself.

There was just over a week until the training camp started. How much progress could he make in this week?

Gan Guoyang figured it was pointless to keep playing street 3v3. He had learned all he could from the streets. The intricate details that truly needed polishing couldn't be provided there.

Maybe Mr. Kapu-Lavin could help; Chen Xing had said he had a wide network in the San Francisco basketball community.

But why would he bother to help? Besides, Gan Guoyang didn't have Kapu's contact information. Was he supposed to stake out Rochambeau Court?

No, Gan Guoyang wouldn't return to Rochambeau until he had the chance to beat Cancer again.

That night, Gan Guoyang tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep.

The deficiencies in his own strength were like a thorn in his heart, causing him discomfort.

The nights in San Francisco were just as restless as his mood, with the occasional light from passing cars outside and the strange noises from above—there used to be a hotel upstairs.

Suddenly, a drop of cold liquid fell right between Gan Guoyang's eyebrows, startling him.

He wiped his forehead with his hand, and in the faint light from outside, he saw it was water.

Looking up, he saw a damp spot on the wooden ceiling right above his head, the first thing he would see when he awoke.

He turned on the bedside lamp and saw the wet patch expanding, and water started dripping down steadily. Gan Guoyang quickly got up to save his bedding from getting wet.

"Fuck, just my luck for the ceiling to leak all night," he murmured.

It was the middle of the night, and Gan Guoyang didn't want to wake the adults. He dressed and went out the back door, climbing the outside stairs to the second floor.

The door was open. Entering, he found the hallway in disarray, seemingly untended for a long time, indicating that the hotel was probably out of business.

Finding the room directly above his, Gan Guoyang knocked on the door, only to be greeted by a flamboyant—man.

Gan Guoyang recognized him; it was the gay man who had pinched his arm that day, the same man who often came to Gan's Restaurant to eat and play cards.

He would spend no more than a dollar a day but linger for hours, annoyingly unshakable.

Gan Guoyang only knew his name was Raymond and nothing more. Could it be that he lived right above him?

Raymond, with a cigarette in hand and resting on his elbow, more cigarette butts on the ground, leaned against the doorframe. His mascara-clad eyes flitted about, unsettling Gan Guoyang.

"Your place is leaking! It's dripping onto the ceiling of my room, and I need to sleep. Please fix it!" said Gan Guoyang, trying to communicate with Raymond.

Raymond took a drag of his cigarette with a nonchalant air, "Sorry, this isn't my home, just a temporary stop. There's a problem with the toilet, but I don't want to deal with it. Repairs are expensive. Besides, I'm leaving tomorrow."

With this, he tried to pinch Gan Guoyang's arm again.

Gan Guoyang quickly dodged. He really had no idea what to do with such thick-skinned people.

Wanting to sleep, he had no choice but to go into the room, which was dirty and a mess, the toilet as if it had gone through the Second World War, water everywhere.

But Gan Guoyang, who had weathered tough times at the welfare institute, didn't see this as a big deal.

It took him about twenty minutes to fix the plumbing in the toilet.

He asked Raymond if there was any soap. Rayne spread his hands, "Does this look like the place that would have such things?"

Gan Guoyang could only shake his hands off, planning to wash them back at the restaurant.

Raymond flicked his finished cigarette on the ground and said, "Your father came looking for me."

Gan Guoyang was startled, My father looked for you? What for? What do you do? Why would my dad come to find you?

Raymond continued, "I know a bit of Chinese, so I could communicate with him. He came to ask about basketball shoes suitable for young people. He must have been asking for you. I have a friend who stole a bunch of shoes, and I hooked them up, selling to your father cheap. I've seen you wearing them; they look good."

It was then that Gan Guoyang understood how the Avia basketball shoes purchased by Gan Youwei came to be.

"Thank you," Gan Guoyang said, softening his tone.

"No need, we're even now. Your father loves you a lot. It's quite enviable," Raymond added.