The Golden Age of Basketball

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"The first time I butted heads with Gan was on October 12, 1981, the second Monday of the month, at Tiger Gymnasium. The game between Shui Zhong Team and Tiger Team was later called the Columbus Day Miracle. Fuck the miracle, Shui Zhong was already strong back then. I was in ninth grade, and a lot of my friends were at Fremont.

I started trash-talking Ah Gan right from the first half, because he was beating my friend Herbert so bad his own mom wouldn't recognize him. By the second half, he must have gotten sick of it because he came over to the sidelines and asked me my name.

I told him, and he said 'hi' back, 'Fuck you, Gary!' Of course, I didn't let up, I stood up and kept at it, and he fucking slammed Herbert again—sorry, Herbert—then he ran over to the sidelines and told me, 'This is my fucking welcome gift to you, we're not done yet!' I still remember that line to this day, and that's when it started, biu, biu, biu~"

———From an interview with NBA legend Gary Payton in the 2023 published work "Trash talk", Excerpt 1.

Gan Guoyang was usually a stable guy, and even when something as big as a time-cross happened to him, he would quickly calm down.

But in the noisy and chaotic Tiger Gymnasium, originally concentrating on the game, he eventually got annoyed by the incessant trash-talking.

That guy could really talk—if he were from Tianjin, he'd definitely be cut out for performing cross talk, the kind blessed with the gift of the gab.

Of course, Gan Guoyang didn't plan to get too tangled up in a war of words with this kid. What mattered most was his performance on the court.

In the second half, he decided to increase his shots to secure his team's lead.

Coach Orwell of the Tiger Team was pacing back and forth on the sidelines, decked out in a yellow plaid suit that was fashionable at the time.

Having crossed swords with Shui Zhong Team for half the game, Orwell had a preliminary grasp of their offensive and defensive patterns.

The Shui Zhong Team was evidently much tougher than anticipated, especially their No. 11 center and No. 14 small forward, who were quite excellent players.

With these two as the core, the rest of the Shui Zhong Team focused on defense, set shots, and fighting for rebounds, making for a well-coordinated, orderly game.

Orwell felt considerable pressure. What was initially just an ordinary warm-up game had escalated into a qualification match, even a battle for the city.

If Fremont lost, no one knew what might happen in the gym.

Orwell feared he might completely lose his authority in the team, and losing to a Chinese team would simply be too embarrassing.

During halftime, he readjusted the strategy: increase pressure on Franklin on defense, double-team, and make more physical contact.

On offense, pass the ball more, attack the inside, and keep hammering at No. 11 to try and gradually rip through the opponent's zone defense.

The battle against a zone defense is often a battle of mindsets—the defense weaves a web, while the offense has to keep passing and shooting from a distance.

Whoever is more patient, whoever stabilizes their mindset, takes the lead in this defensive and offensive game.

So far, the well-prepared Shui Zhong Team seemed much more patient than the Tiger Team, who were visibly agitated from being behind.

Facing the zone defense, Henry-Turner tried a frontal long shot after receiving the ball, but missed.

Gan Guoyang grabbed the defensive rebound, but Shui Zhong Team made a mistake during the fast break, and the pass to Franklin was intercepted.

However, the Tiger Team's counterattack was even more hasty; the point guard's layup was disturbed by Gan Guoyang. The layup missed, and Gan Guoyang took control of the ball again.

The Tiger Team, focusing on reinforcing the defense against Franklin, saw Gan Guoyang escort Chen Xing past midcourt and cut to the basket, posting up Herbert to ask for the ball.

From the sidelines, Gary yelled, "Hold him down, push his ass, choke him, kick him, stab him, put a shit bowl on that Chinese head! Kill him, Herbert!"

But this kind of shouting seemed to backfire. Gan Guoyang backed into Herbert, using simple strength and footwork to push past Herbert, scoring an easy layup with his right hand, gaining two points.

In the center's Knight duel, the Tiger Team had never planned to double-team Gan Guoyang down low, believing Herbert could handle him alone.

But Herbert couldn't cope, he looked very disheartened; his teammates didn't come to help, and he didn't want to ask them to, too embarrassed to ask.

Gan Guoyang didn't trouble Herbert further but shouted as he passed Gary, "Keep it up, you're about to make me cry, almost there!"

Gary cursed in his heart, fuck his mother, but his mouth didn't stop, although his momentum had notably weakened.

There was no helping it; no matter how fierce he was on the sidelines, he still couldn't actually play on the court.

He was in eighth grade this year and wanted to go to Fremont High School next year to play basketball with his good friends.

But his dad didn't want him to go to school in Fremont, thinking it was too chaotic, full of Black people—though their own family was Black.

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As Gan Guoyang scored consecutively, the Shui Zhong Team was widening the point gap, and Orwell on the sidelines was yelling, demanding tighter defense on Gan Guoyang.

But the Tiger players were a bit confused, They had discussed intensifying defense against Franklin during halftime, and now they needed to strengthen it against Ah Gan?

They're five players on the opposite team, and we also have only five, If we double-team Franklin and then double-team Ah Gan, do we leave everyone else completely unguarded?

The Tigers' offense was also having problems, as their passes became hesitant and Shui Zhong's zone defense grew more confident.

Xu Xun surprisingly made a proactive move, intercepted the Tiger Team's pass, and then pushed forward on a fast break!

The Tiger Team chose to foul, pulling Xu Xun from behind, causing him to tumble to the ground.

This was supposed to be a flagrant foul calling for free throws plus possession, but the on-site referee only called a regular foul.

Beelman shouted at the referee, "That's a technical foul! A flagrant foul! There should be free throws, free throws!"

The referee tried to appease Beelman, saying, "I'm doing this for your own good, as well as mine. Cool it, will you?"

Beelman thought about the fact they were on the opponent's court, surrounded by a gym full of Black people, with several hundreds more lurking outside and police cars patrolling the roads, and decided it made sense, so he let it go.

During Shui Zhong's sideline throw-in, Franklin faced a harsh double-team and couldn't receive the pass, so Gan Guoyang stepped out to take the ball, handing it off to Chen Xing after setting a screen and rolling inside.

Gan Guoyang drew the defense's attention and Chen Xing, not daring to dribble too much, calmly found Xu Xun cutting around him. Xu Xun caught the ball at a 45-degree angle on the right side and shot it!

The ball headed straight for the basket, and Gan Guoyang knew immediately that it was unlikely to go in, the force was too strong.

He ran to the left, and, as expected, the ball bounced off the rim to the left side. Gan Guoyang jumped, grabbed the ball in mid-air, and scored an off-the-backboard putback!

After scoring, Gan Guoyang didn't forget to taunt Little Gary at the sidelines, "Louder, Gary! I'm so lonely without hearing your panting! This one's a gift for you."

Little Gary's face grew even darker; he felt a lump of anger forming in his chest, his throat tightening, and his eyes starting to sting as tears threatened to spill.

In the streets of Oakland, everyone chatters incessantly because the environment dictates that if you don't look tough, you'll get bullied.

Trash talk is like a cat's hiss or a dog's growling, all meant to make one seem tough, to signal, "Don't even think about messing with me."

Gary's father, Al, was a streetball virtuoso and a king of trash talk, known in Oakland as Mr. Nasty—he even had it written on his custom license plate.

Gary had inherited his father's traits, but after all, he was only 13 years old, still a teenager with a somewhat fragile and sensitive psyche, and the feeling of powerlessness was hard to bear.

He thought, if only he could be on the court playing, even if his opponent was a center, he wouldn't be afraid, he wouldn't feel bad, he would choose to fight.

Now, standing on the sidelines, he struggled to hold back tears. He didn't dare to turn around or wipe the corner of his eyes with his hand, for fear that if his friends saw, he would be the butt of jokes for life.

With a voice slightly breaking, he continued to shout at Gan Guoyang, while the Tiger Team finally scored a basket. Under heavy defense, Henry-Turner managed to catch the ball at the low post, passed the ball, turned around, and made a jump shot.

On the following offense, Gan Guoyang ran to the perimeter to receive the ball near Gary, playing a bit of keep-away with his teammates with three passes back and forth, toying with Herbert.

Next, Gan Guoyang, from 23 feet away from the hoop—NBA three-point line is at 23.5 feet—took a long-range shot without hesitation.

With a beautiful form and arc, the ball swished through the net, and Tiger Gymnasium's decibel level instantly halved.

After scoring, Gan Guoyang turned around and could see Gary; the two locked eyes.

Gan Guoyang looked at him, smiled and shrugged his shoulders, not saying anything, then ran off.

But Little Gary couldn't hold back anymore, two large teardrops rolled down and fell into his mouth.

They tasted salty.

"...At that time I was fucking made to cry by his trash talk, really. I never told anyone about this. He made a 20-foot long shot, you know, back then there was no three-point line, nobody took such long shots. But him, a center, shooting so naturally and smoothly—it went in, and then he turned and looked at me, said nothing.

Before that, he would yell every time he scored, but this time he really said nothing. He just smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and I felt like he said everything. I felt a huge insult, I just couldn't help it, I shed two tears. But I swear, just two. I stood on the sidelines, not daring to turn around or wipe my tears. I just crossed my arms, staring hard until the tears dried up.

It was fucking humiliating..."

—From an interview with NBA great Gary Payton in the 2023 published work "Trash Talk," excerpt 2.