Sports Medicine Master System

With the elimination of player number 90, today’s recording came to an end.

The eliminated players could now compose themselves and prepare to go home.

"Coach, I’ve disappointed you." Westbrook stood before the university team’s assistant coach, Anderson, his face full of shame.

His coach had accompanied him this time.

His parents had work and couldn’t take time off. The university’s coaching staff, wanting to come along and gain some experience, had joined him.

"It’s alright."

Anderson patted his shoulder and said, "You already did great. It’s just that there are too many talented people here. That means you just need to work harder and train well."

Westbrook touched the wristband on his right hand. On the white band, he had written "KB3".

He knew that if Bales hadn’t passed away unexpectedly, he definitely would have made it here, and he definitely would have passed the tryouts.

He had wanted to pass the tryouts together with his good friend, but in the end, he had let his friend down.

"Go say goodbye to your friends." Anderson pointed to DeRozan and the other two standing in the distance.

Their numbers were all in the one-hundreds, so they hadn’t been called for the tryouts today.

Westbrook turned to say his goodbyes to the three of them.

"It’s alright. I’ll probably be eliminated tomorrow anyway." When it was Harden’s turn, he couldn’t help but give a wry smile.

He was short and fat. After averaging 13 points per game last school year, he thought he was pretty good. But now that he was here, seeing so many skilled players get eliminated, he realized just how far he still had to go.

Westbrook remained silent. In truth, he didn’t think Harden had much of a chance either.

Putting aside scoring and all that, from what he’d seen of the tryouts today, he felt that everyone who passed was a guy with exceptional talent.

As for Harden and himself... ’We have no standout qualities or talent to speak of,’ he thought.

Just as he was about to offer a few words of comfort, a staff member rushed over and told everyone not to leave just yet.

There would be a dinner gathering in the afternoon, and the eliminated players would also receive souvenirs.

Most importantly, that evening, they were invited by Chen Yu to the US Airways Center to watch the game.

Game 2 of the Finals.

"Fack, for real?" Harden’s eyes went wide.

Watching the Finals live was like a dream come true.

"There are so many of us! How much would the tickets alone cost?" Holidays exclaimed.

Even the worst seats for a Finals game cost several hundred US dollars each. For 282 of them, the tickets alone would be over two hundred thousand US dollars.

Of course, Chen Yu was a minority owner of the Suns, but if they took up seats, it still meant fewer tickets sold.

But the staff member’s subsequent explanation left them a little disappointed.

They were getting standing-room tickets.

For extremely important NBA games, standing-room tickets were sometimes sold. Standing would definitely be uncomfortable, but the advantage was the cheaper price.

"Actually, standing-room tickets are great too." Harden was quite satisfied.

He figured that even a standing-room ticket must cost a few hundred US dollars, a huge sum that he couldn’t afford.

The key was, you couldn’t necessarily buy one even if you had the money.

"Exactly! It’s the Finals! Just being there live is a dream. You guys think we’ll have a chance to meet O’Neal and Hardaway and get an autograph?" DeRozan was incredibly excited.

To them, the Finals arena was like a sacred hall; it was a place they dreamed of visiting.

Westbrook’s face was full of anticipation. In truth, more than getting an autograph, he hoped that one day he, too, could appear on the Finals stage. He couldn’t even fathom how incredible that scene would be.

To showcase his skills in front of tens of millions of fans worldwide, to win the game, to become a champion... he couldn’t imagine how wonderful that would feel.

After a lavish buffet, Westbrook received his souvenir.

It was a commemorative medal with the show’s logo on it, and his name was printed on the back.

’Proof that I’m a failure,’ he thought.

However, the next souvenir made his eyes light up.

It was a set of discs containing training videos for physical conditioning and skills.

They were from world-class trainers like Nelson.

And these were exactly what he needed most.

Meanwhile, Chen Yu, Jordan, and the others were gathered together, chatting idly.

"Chen, you should be charging royalties for this." Jordan glanced at the set of discs and casually tossed it aside.

Chen Yu just smiled. ’How do you know I’m not?’ he thought.

’If anyone dares to pirate and copy these, the company’s legal team isn’t just for show.’

’Besides, giving out so many for free serves two purposes. On one hand, it helps the eliminated players improve and learn more advanced training methods. On the other hand, it’s an advertisement. When they take these back to their schools, I won’t have to worry about those schools not coming to buy more in the future.’

"By the way, Chen, is there any hope for that matter in China?" Jordan asked again.

Chen Yu knew what he was asking about: the commercial restructuring of the Jia A league.

After being jerked around by the Wizards, Jordan still hadn’t given up on his dream of becoming a team owner.

"Of course there’s hope. And Michael, I really suggest you buy a team in China. You have no idea how many fans you have there. With your influence, you could easily build up a team."

When it came to prestige and influence, there was truly no one bigger than Jordan in the world of basketball.

Jordan nodded, looking excited. "I’ll be waiting for your good news, then."

After a bit more conversation, the topic shifted to the evening’s Finals game.

"The Pistons are pretty strong this year. They have a bit of that Bad Boy Legion feel," George Gervin muttered.

At the mention of the Bad Boy Legion, Jordan’s expression darkened, and he scoffed dismissively, "Just those guys? They’re still a long way off."

’Da Ben, an undrafted player. Hamilton, a guy not even worthy of wearing Air Jordans.’

In Jordan’s eyes, this bunch was a far cry from Lambier, Thomas, and Ma Hong.

"The game is getting so lame these days. They even banned hand-checking. If I were ten years younger, I could average 50 points a game in today’s NBA," Jordan began to boast arrogantly.

The others all wore unfazed expressions, pretending they hadn’t heard him.

In the evening, a huge crowd of people took a bus to the US Airways Center.

Letting these youngsters experience the atmosphere of the Finals was an important step in boosting their confidence.

Dreams provide motivation.

Before the game started, everyone was free to roam around.

And the team history museum was a must-visit place for everyone.

Gazing at the two gleaming gold O’Brien Champion Trophies, Durant’s eyes were filled with yearning.

"Michael, do you think we’ll have a chance to lift this trophy in the future?" Durant, towering over the crowd with a brown backpack on, asked Beasley who was beside him.

Chen Yu hadn’t forgotten about Beasley. He had let him stay in custody for another day before contacting the police department to bail him out.

Of course, it seemed Beasley had proactively apologized to Chen Yu through the assistant coach who had accompanied him.

But Beasley was too stubborn to admit it.

Beasley still had a rebellious look on his face as he said casually, "Who needs a championship? I’m getting into the NBA to make money."

Durant frowned slightly. Knowing Beasley, he knew this was something the guy would say.

"Making money and winning a championship aren’t mutually exclusive. Anyway, I want it. I dream about it," Durant said, his eyes shining.

After saying that, Durant reminded Beasley to prepare well for tomorrow and work hard to pass the tryout.

"Relax. If you can pass, how could I not?"

Beasley shrugged nonchalantly, a relaxed expression on his face.

At seven in the evening, the game officially began.

Larry Brown stood on the sideline, looking around the arena at the excited Suns fans, his heart swelling with heroic ambition.

’If I can defeat the seemingly invincible Five-star Phoenix Suns and crush their dream of a three-peat, my coaching career will reach its most glorious peak.’

But just a few minutes later, his beautiful dream was rudely shattered.

CRASH!

The rim was still trembling.

A deafening roar erupted from the stands.

The young guys like Durant were especially excited, howling wildly. There were less than three hundred of them, but they cheered with the force of three thousand.

It was O’Neal. He caught the ball in the low post, spun to push Da Ben behind him, and completed a thunderous dunk with Da Ben hanging off his arm.

to 7.

The first quarter was just past its halfway mark, and the Suns were already leading by 8 points.

O’Neal himself had already scored 8 points.

O’Neal was especially active today, his offensive drive explosive.

The key was that he was unstoppable. Da Ben, who had dominated a host of centers in the East, looked like he didn’t even know how to play basketball in front of O’Neal, getting knocked every which way.

And it didn’t end there. Hardaway was making his move too.

He had the ball on the wing, started his drive, then stopped short. With an instantaneous change of pace, he blew past Billups like a gust of wind, cut to the basket, and finished with a reverse layup over the help defense from Da Ben.

At the very top of the stands, DeRozan was jumping up and down in excitement, pointing down at the court. "Did you see that? That was so smooth!"

A Hardaway playing like that was exactly how he imagined himself playing in his dreams.

Beside him, Harden and Westbrook were nodding furiously, their eyes shining.

You could never truly appreciate how smooth and fluid Hardaway’s offense was without seeing it in person.

Only Holidays was clenching his fists in excitement, staring intently at Hardaway on the court. ’Beating your defender with just a simple change of pace’—that was what he learned today.

"If only we were a little closer," Harden muttered again.

They were standing so high up, he almost needed binoculars to see clearly. He couldn’t even imagine how amazing it would be to sit in the front row and watch these top-tier stars play up close.

"That kid is so damn enviable." Harden looked enviously toward the front row on the sideline.

The three beside him showed the same expression.

They had miserable standing-room tickets, while Curry, along with Chen Yu, Jordan, and the other big shots, were all sitting in the front row watching the game.

The difference in treatment was like heaven and earth.

"I’d like to see just how good he really is tomorrow," DeRozan muttered, unconvinced.

Curry’s number was in the one-hundreds; he would be in the tryouts tomorrow.

Amid the cheers and shouts of support from the entire arena, the first quarter ended.

to 17.

The Five-star Phoenix Suns were once again shining brightly in the US Airways Center!

On the sideline, Larry Brown pressed his lips together, his gaze wavering slightly.

He had taken a group of role players in a small market like the Pistons, worked hard to build chemistry, and stuck to his philosophy of "playing basketball the right way." Brown believed his path was the correct one.

’I don’t need any top-tier superstars. Team basketball is the ultimate answer.’

And he had succeeded. He fought his way out of the East and now stood before the Suns, the team that dominated the league.

After the first game, he was convinced he had done the right thing. This was the basketball he wanted.

But in this moment, Brown’s conviction was shaken.

The power of the Five-star Phoenix Suns was just so damn hopeless to face.