Sports Medicine Master System

The next morning, after a quick breakfast, Chen Yu got in his little sports car and headed to the police station to get his people.

A little over half an hour later, Chen Yu arrived at the Sington Precinct.

"Morning."

After parking his car, Chen Yu greeted people as he walked in.

In Phoenix, Chen Yu was a household name. And within the police department, he’d provided officers with plenty of pro bono consultations.

He treated all sorts of acute and critical conditions. Plus, since the officers spent their years sitting in offices and driving, spinal issues had practically become an occupational hazard for them. Chen Yu had performed a large number of their disc surgeries.

You could say Chen Yu’s clinic was the official partner medical provider for the Phoenix Police Department.

"Boss," Hunter said, walking up to greet him.

He had just arrived as well.

Chen Yu led him into the police station, where they met Charles Gregg.

The others had returned to the motel to wait for news, leaving him there alone.

For this tryout, Chen Yu knew that since these young men hadn’t made it to the NBA yet, many came from families with tight finances. They might not even be able to afford airfare and travel expenses. So, he had thoughtfully offered to reimburse their travel costs, as well as their accommodations in Phoenix.

The budget for accommodations wasn’t high. They couldn’t afford a five-star hotel, but a regular motel was perfectly fine.

If you were frugal, you could even save a little money.

At the same time, since they were all young men—kids, really—Chen Yu was worried about them traveling alone. He had required every player to be accompanied by a guardian, whether it was a family member, a coach, or a teacher, and he reimbursed their expenses as well.

With nearly 300 players, that meant over 500 people in total. The daily expenses were at least a hundred thousand dollars.

However, compared to the show’s overall production budget, this was a drop in the bucket.

Charles Gregg stood anxiously before Chen Yu. After an entire night in the police station, his face was greasy and etched with self-reproach and regret.

’Since I knew Beasley was a problem child, I shouldn’t have gone out last night. If I’d stayed at the motel, none of this would have happened.’

"Dr. Chen, Kevin is a good kid. Please, you have to help him," Gregg pleaded, his voice laced with anxiety.

Chen Yu nodded and led Hunter to find Superintendent Calvins, the precinct chief.

He was incredibly enthusiastic upon seeing Chen Yu, his words overflowing with gratitude.

It was only after Calvins’s prompting that Chen Yu recalled performing knee surgery on him.

"So how’s your knee doing?"

"It’s fantastic! Look, I can even jump now."

He hopped on the spot twice to demonstrate.

Chen Yu chuckled and stopped him, then asked about the five players.

"It’s nothing serious, just a minor issue. You can take them anytime. The main thing is that one of the kids was drinking." He glanced at Chen Yu and quickly corrected himself, "But that’s not a big deal either. Just pay a small fine, and you’ll be all set."

Chen Yu nodded and followed Calvins to the precinct’s holding cells.

"Chen, are we going to win tonight?" Calvins asked, referring to the championship game. Then he added indignantly, "The Pistons play such an ugly game, and I feel like the refs are favoring them. They missed several calls. The league is obviously out to get us."

Chen Yu inwardly shook his head. ’Local fans... they always think the game is unfair to the home team.’ In his opinion, the officiating yesterday had been perfectly fine.

"Don’t worry," Chen Yu said. "We’ll definitely win today."

With that said, Chen Yu turned his gaze to the five young men behind the iron bars.

Hunter must have put in a word for them, as the five had been given special treatment and were being held in a separate cell.

Otherwise, they would have been locked up with vagrants, drunk drivers, and local punks.

At the sight of Chen Yu, they all deflated like popped balloons.

One of them, however, was completely unfazed—a chubby kid, still fast asleep with his mouth hanging open, snoring softly. He only woke up when the boy with the buzz cut next to him gave him a shove, and he stared blankly at Chen Yu.

"Can we go now?" Beasley, who had been lounging in the corner, spotted Chen Yu’s group and shot to his feet.

He had an entitled look on his face and even shot a defiant glare at the officer on duty.

He exuded an air of shameless indifference, a total punk attitude.

The officer didn’t get angry. They could round up eight hundred punks like this a day if they wanted to. If he got angry at every little provocation, he’d have died of an aneurysm long ago.

He stepped forward, unlocked the cell door, and gestured for the five of them to come out. They were free to go.

Durant walked over to Gregg, his head bowed and his face full of shame.

DeRozan and the other two also looked apprehensive, shuffling timidly toward the exit.

Beasley, on the other hand, swaggered out. He shot a fierce glare at DeRozan and the other two, as if to say, ’This isn’t over.’

"Hold on."

Just as Beasley was about to step out of the cell, Chen Yu put out a hand to stop him.

He froze, looking at Chen Yu in confusion.

"I don’t like that look on your face," Chen Yu said, his gaze steady.

The defiant expression on Beasley’s face instantly froze.

Beside him, Durant flinched, looking at Chen Yu with alarm.

Calvins’s smile vanished. He looked at Chen Yu, ready to lock Beasley back up at a moment’s notice.

Chen Yu stared directly at Beasley.

For the first few seconds, Beasley dared to meet his gaze, but his eyes soon darted away in a panic.

Only then did Chen Yu speak. "Do you think I’m obligated to be here, bailing you out? If you do, let me tell you something: nothing is ’obligatory.’ I don’t know you. To me, you’re just some irrelevant kid."

"What, you don’t like hearing that?"

Chen Yu caught the flicker of disdain in Beasley’s eyes. "Are you thinking," he continued, "that you’re such a prodigy that once you make it to the NBA and earn the big bucks, you’re going to make me regret this?"

Beasley started, his eyes widening in astonishment. For a split second, that was exactly what he’d been thinking.

"Well, I can tell you right now: forget about whether you can even make it to the NBA. Even if you do, even if you become the next Michael Jordan, you’re not worthy of making me feel an ounce of regret."

"To say nothing of the fact that you’re about ten Kobes short of being Michael Jordan."

A flash of anger crossed Beasley’s eyes. He subconsciously started to retort, but the words caught in his throat.

He couldn’t very well claim he was more talented than Jordan or that he’d be the next Jordan. That would just make him a laughingstock.

"It seems he still hasn’t learned his lesson. In that case, go ahead and process him like you normally would," Chen Yu said, looking at Calvins.

Calvins nodded to the officer on duty, gesturing for him to put Beasley back in the cell.

Panic filled Beasley’s eyes.

He might be a head taller than Chen Yu, but at the end of the day, he was just a kid who had barely turned fifteen.

Just then, Durant stepped forward, wanting to plead on his good friend’s behalf.

But Gregg grabbed him and held him back, shooting him a look that clearly warned him not to say a word.

He had no idea what Chen Yu was thinking. If pleading for Beasley ended up implicating Durant, it would jeopardize his own future.

Chen Yu looked at Hunter and pointed at Beasley. "Hunter, find out who accompanied him here. Call his family and send him home. My show has no need for a player like him."

’The kid’s got some nerve, sneaking out to buy alcohol. He’s obviously not a model student.’

’If he had just owned up to his mistake, that would’ve been one thing. But with this kind of attitude? He can go right back to where he came from.’

’The show isn’t short on talent.’

’Or to put it another way, he really shouldn’t think he’s so important.’

At the mention of his family, Beasley’s face suddenly went pale. He pleaded in a panic, "No! Don’t tell my mom!"

He pressed himself against the bars, his hands reaching out, grasping futilely at the air, his eyes wild with panic.

He had never even known who his father was. His mother had raised him and his two siblings all on her own, moving from place to place, working odd jobs just to get by.

That’s right. Just surviving.

He and Durant had first met when they were eleven, playing basketball together for the first time. After the game, he’d stolen the pizza the other teammates were using to celebrate.

Growing up, he had caused his mother endless worry.

But this time was supposed to be different. He’d told his mother he’d been chosen by Chen Yu, that he was going to be on TV. He’d told her that she would be able to watch him and point to the screen, telling all her friends and neighbors, "Look, that’s my son."

He knew how hard his mother had worked to raise him, and for once, he just wanted to make her proud.

Chen Yu remained unmoved.

In the United States, how many people who pursued a career in professional sports came from a privileged background like Grant Hill? Everyone had their own struggles.

’Beasley had his, and so did Chen Yu. He’d been through the same things the kid was going through now.’

Chen Yu glanced at the apprehensive, head-bowed Durant, and then at DeRozan and the other two, who were silent and clearly intimidated. "The lot of you," he said, "next time you decide to do something, use your heads first. Think about whether you can handle the consequences."

They exchanged glances and nodded hurriedly.

"Keep him in there for now. Let him cool off a bit more," Chen Yu said with a final glance at Beasley before turning to leave.

DeRozan and the two others exchanged a look and scrambled to follow.

The training camp was about to begin.

If Chen Yu hadn’t come for them, they would have missed the opening ceremony.

Durant hesitated, unsure of what to do.

"Let’s go! You have a training camp to get to." Gregg shot him a harsh glare and forcefully pulled him away.

Outside the police station, Chen Yu had Hunter arrange a car to take the players to the training camp. He also tasked him with settling the damages with the motel.

The little hoodlums had trashed the motel room during their fight yesterday.

By the time they reached the training camp, it was just past eight o’clock.

But the gates to the training camp were already swarmed with reporters.

Chen Yu’s GT40 was the only one in all of Phoenix, making it incredibly conspicuous. The reporters spotted it before he was even close to the gate. They all turned to look, their faces a mixture of wanting to swarm him but not quite daring to.

They knew Chen Yu was tight-lipped; even if they managed to corner him, he wouldn’t necessarily answer their questions.

But if they didn’t, it would feel like they had come all this way for nothing.

Chen Yu, however, took the initiative. He stopped the car, rolled down the window, and scanned the crowd before waving one of the reporters over.

A reporter from the *Arizona Republic*.

"Collison, do me a favor," Chen Yu said with a smile. "Let’s not report on certain... incidents. It’s not a big deal anyway."

’Five of the tryout players getting into a fight and landing in a police station before the camp even opens... that’s not exactly a good start.’

The reporter, Collison, blinked and played dumb. "Chen, what news are you referring to?"

Chen Yu rolled his eyes.

’If he was going to play it like that, then this conversation was pointless.’

Collison chuckled sheepishly. His eyes darted around for a moment before he asked, "Chen, can you tell me which guest stars you’ve invited? Is Jordan on the list?"

’Is he trying to make a trade?’

Chen Yu considered it for a moment, then nodded.

How could he possibly refuse an opportunity to boost Jordan’s prestige?

’Down the line, if one of these players actually makes it to the NBA and mentions this to a reporter, they’ll inevitably drop the line, "I was once coached by the great God of Basketball himself, Michael Jordan."’