Sports Medicine Master System

Facing the camera, Harden looked tense and awkward.

"I wasn’t thinking about a basketball-related challenge at the time. I was really just focused on finding someone with the last name Williams as fast as possible. Maybe the weather affected my judgment, and besides, as you saw, there was hardly anyone on the streets."

"And I didn’t expect her last name to actually be Williams. She even showed me her ID."

"I was so excited, and she didn’t ask what the challenge was, so..."

Harden stammered, trying to find a reasonable explanation for his actions.

The executive director next to the camera asked a question: "So, how do you think Kevin felt when he saw the teammate you picked for him? For example, this expression—what do you think it means?"

He gestured in the air. In post-production, they would probably insert an image of Durant’s face there.

The corner of Harden’s eye twitched violently.

’What expression? Probably the one that said he wanted to kill me.’

Thinking back to two hours ago, when he’d appeared before Durant with that curvy woman, Durant’s expression had gone from confusion to shock, and finally back to confusion again.

The occasional glances he shot Harden’s way were filled with hostility and bewilderment.

"Um, DeAndre picked the wrong person, too," Harden weakly protested.

The executive director fell silent for a moment, then said, "At least he picked a guy."

Off-camera, a member of the lighting crew couldn’t hold back and burst out laughing.

Harden rubbed his face, on the verge of a breakdown. He desperately wanted to argue, ’But we still won!’

"So James, what did you think of Kevin’s performance? Was he good?" the executive director asked.

Harden nodded frantically. ’Good’ didn’t even begin to cover it; he was incredible.

Harden still couldn’t figure out how they had managed to win with a woman who had never even touched a basketball and a nearly fifty-year-old man who weighed over 130 kilograms, whose most strenuous daily activity was collecting supermarket shopping carts.

「Two hours earlier」 In the gym, in front of several cameras, Durant stared at the entrance, eagerly anticipating what kind of teammates his two good buddies would bring back for him.

Ten minutes earlier, Holidays had shown up with a young man who used to play for the Thatcher High School varsity team.

After getting the assignment, he first went to the Thatcher High School trophy room, found an old player roster, and was lucky enough to spot a player with the last name Smith. He then asked a teacher for the address, went straight to the guy’s workplace, and invited him over.

His objective was clear, and his execution was efficient.

Griffin, by contrast, wasn’t as clever. He hadn’t thought of that and had gone straight to a streetball court to find someone. After asking around, he came back with a restaurant waiter who was nearly two meters tall.

His basketball skills weren’t great, but at least he had the height.

Durant watched them, his eyes green with envy.

But it was fine. He trusted his good buddies to bring him two outstanding teammates as well.

Then, he saw Harden show up with a scantily clad woman.

In an instant, Durant was petrified.

And right behind them, Little Jordan appeared with a middle-aged man whose belly was wider than a water bucket and who looked like he had trouble just walking.

The joyous looks on their faces for having completed their task quickly froze, mirroring Durant’s.

Nearby, Presti was dumbfounded.

Many members of the surrounding film crew were already letting out stifled snickers.

After a full half-minute of self-doubt, disbelief, and internal struggle, Durant shot Stevenson a pleading look, his eyes begging the question: ’Can I swap teammates?’

Not the two randoms he’d been given, but Harden and Little Jordan.

He was about to have a meltdown!

Durant couldn’t fathom what kind of thought process or logic could have possibly led those two to do something like this.

Little Jordan even looked surprised, naively asking, "Is the challenge to play basketball?"

Durant wanted to kick him. ’It’s a basketball show,’ he thought. ’If we’re not playing ball, are we supposed to be going on a date?’

He shot Harden a venomous glare. ’Are you sure you went out to complete the mission and not to find a date?’

The rules were the rules; no substitutions. Even the three burly streetball masters that had been hand-picked to be the opponents couldn’t bear to watch, and they gave Durant sympathetic looks.

To make matters worse, the woman Harden brought suddenly tried to back out, saying she was there to "work," not to play ball. If they wanted her to play, it would cost 500 US dollars up front.

Ignoring Durant’s pleading gaze, Stevenson actually agreed.

The original intention of this segment was to test the chemistry between teammates. Who knew that landing these two jokers, Harden and Little Jordan, would create such a huge spectacle.

It made for perfect television.

So never mind 500 US dollars; he would have gladly paid even more.

After watching DeRozan lead his two teammates to a clean and decisive victory, Durant glanced over at the middle-aged uncle, who was struggling to bend over and stretch. He was once again on the verge of a breakdown.

"Kevin, maybe you should just shoot more from the perimeter. Take threes. You might still have a chance to win," Harden suggested cautiously.

"Just don’t talk."

Durant walked onto the court, his face grim. He felt like everyone was laughing at him.

The woman, Katie Williams, even came over, looked up at Durant, and remarked, "You’re so tall."

Durant looked down at Katie, who was just over 1.6 meters tall, and his heart was bleeding.

The middle-aged uncle was surprisingly enthusiastic, asking how they should coordinate their plays.

Durant shuddered. ’Coordinate?’ he thought. ’Just try not to get in my way, you two.’

Signaling his two teammates to spread out, Durant gripped the ball with only one thought in his mind: ’I’ll just treat this as a 1-on-3 game.’

He exploded into motion. With an incredibly wide crossover, Durant’s speed showed an ordinary guy used to showing off on small-city streetball courts what it meant to be a professional.

He stopped on a dime, rose up, and shot.

At 2.03 meters tall with a 2.21-meter wingspan, he jumped to his apex with a slight fadeaway, like he was plucking a star from the heavens.

The ball swished through the net.

From the sidelines, Little Jordan yelled "Nice shot!" right on cue.

Durant remained silent, but he suddenly realized it might not be so difficult after all.

But his joy was fleeting. The moment they had to play defense, Durant’s spirit crumbled.

It was impossible to defend.

If he stayed under the basket, the opponents shot from the perimeter.

When he heard an opponent’s body make contact with Katie, followed by her suggestive "Aah!", Durant just wanted to cover his face.

The game was to 25 points; first team to reach it wins.

So Durant immediately understood that if he wanted to win, he had only one choice: he had to make every single shot, and they all had to be 3-pointers.

Two-pointers were too risky.

He drove, came to a sudden stop, and pulled the ball back between his legs. The move was so drastic it nearly made the defender do a split.

He rose up for a three, his shot rock-steady and precise.

The opponents still had some pride, so at first they stuck to single coverage. But when it became clear one man couldn’t stop him, they threw their dignity to the wind and started to double-team him.

First two of them, then all three.

The middle-aged uncle, full of a desire to participate, even ran to an empty spot under the basket and yelled for Durant to pass him the ball.

Against his better judgment, Durant trusted him and threaded a pass through a gap in the defenders.

He watched as the man leaped—a whole ten centimeters off the ground—and the ball slammed into the bottom edge of the backboard, ricocheted right back into his face, and knocked him to the floor. Durant seriously wanted to storm over to the sideline and beat Little Jordan to a pulp.

And Harden, too.

He was starting to suspect that Harden was a mole sent by DeRozan. Otherwise, why had he been so insistent on joining his team earlier?

But in the end, Durant still won by a single, narrow point.

From the sidelines, the Raptors scout, Tucker, couldn’t help but remark to Presti, "He must have put an incredible amount of work into his shot."

In terms of physical size, Durant obviously had a huge advantage.

But it was still a 1-on-3 situation, and his shooting windows were extremely limited.

Yet, even within those tight windows, Durant didn’t miss a single shot. That kind of shooting consistency was incredible.

Presti nodded in agreement. "Now I’m starting to understand why Chen gave him a pass straight through during the open auditions."

His eyes fixed on Durant, Presti said, "He’s only sixteen. He’ll probably keep growing, yet he has this incredible agility. Look at the range on his crossover."

"And his wingspan... Guys who are faster than him aren’t as tall, and guys who are taller than him aren’t as agile. He can always find a mismatch. Once he perfects his shot, I can’t even imagine how good he’ll be in the future."

During the open auditions, Durant’s performance had been terrible. He only got two votes and made it to the second round solely because Chen Yu hit the golden buzzer for him.

And as far as Presti knew, Durant’s final selection as a team captain also seemed to be a result of Chen Yu’s personal insistence.

It just goes to show that even back then, Chen Yu had seen Durant’s potential and his unique advantages.

That’s a truly incredible eye for talent.

As the final, game-winning shot went in, Katie Williams, who had served as the hype squad for the entire game, rushed over excitedly and threw her arms around Durant.

Her buxom frame startled Durant, and his cheeks instantly turned red.

"We won!"

On the sidelines, Harden and Little Jordan celebrated with an excited high-five.

They were about to rush onto the court to celebrate when they met Durant’s murderous glare and immediately behaved themselves.

After filming wrapped, a departing Katie Williams made a point of finding Durant to give him a goodbye hug.

Then Durant felt her slip something into the back pocket of his pants.

"Call me!" Katie Williams said with a final wink, then sashayed away.

Durant pulled it out. It was a pink business card.

On the back was a photo that made one’s blood boil.

He was starting to guess what Katie Williams’s profession was.

Beside him, Harden’s eyes followed Katie Williams until she disappeared from sight. He then silently glanced at the business card in Durant’s hand but said nothing.

The show was being filmed simultaneously in fifteen cities.

「In Phoenix」 Chen Yu was also on set, having just finished watching the taping.

The two teams in Phoenix were led by Oden and Curry, respectively.

This was, of course, a special arrangement born from Chen Yu’s personal bias.

A team’s chances of operating successfully were greater in a more populous city.

Not to mention that in Phoenix, Curry himself was no nobody; many Phoenix Suns fans already knew of him.

"His release is really fast."

On the sidelines, Nelson murmured to Chen Yu.

After the last open audition, Chen Yu had helped adjust Curry’s shooting form, making his motion more efficient. He had also arranged some targeted training for him.

The effects were noticeable.

"The key is still his height," Chen Yu sighed.

Everything else could be worked on, but the height issue was a fatal flaw.

As they were speaking, Ernest came over and told them about the taping in Safford.

"Who picked her? Harden? He found a woman? What on earth was he thinking?" Chen Yu didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Chen Yu could just imagine the priceless look on Durant’s face when he saw Harden show up with a woman.

"Who knows," Ernest said, holding up his hands. This definitely wasn’t a scenario he had scripted.

Chen Yu asked for the footage and nearly burst out laughing as he watched it.

All he could say was, poor Durant.

Seeing that Durant still managed to win the game in the end, Chen Yu nodded to himself, then turned to look at Curry in the distance.

In the opening match on July 1st, Durant would lead his team to challenge Curry’s.

He wondered which of the two would come out on top.

Next to Curry was a stocky teenager with an afro who was a head taller than him, chattering away about something.

The kid’s name was Draymond Green, a teammate Curry had chosen.

Aside from Mackie, the height of these two put them at a massive disadvantage against Durant.