Sports Medicine Master System

His offense was ineffective, and his defense was even worse.

A current NBA-level player, someone who could secure a spot and even start on any of the 29 teams, was by no means someone a high schooler could guard.

Ford had turned into an offensive kaleidoscope, scoring five baskets with five different moves, giving Rose a thorough lesson.

Just a moment ago, Ford and the other pros were debating who would be the first to get embarrassed by letting an opponent score.

He never thought he’d be the one to get embarrassed first.

"Chen, I really think this method is too much of a blow to them," Jabbar said in a low voice.

Before the one-on-one, Rose’s eyes were full of light. Now that it was over, he seemed completely lost.

Chen Yu shrugged nonchalantly and said with a smile, "Recognizing the gap is what motivates you to improve."

Every player invited here was a local sensation back in middle school. They entered high school hailed as geniuses, lavished with praise, and then proceeded to dominate everyone.

They’re all young men. It’s impossible for them not to get cocky, not to think ’I’m the best in the world, the next Jordan’.

And they’re only about two years away from the draft. Throwing some cold water on them now, letting them settle down and continue polishing their bodies and skills, is actually a good thing.

"Besides, Kareem, you have to admit, if you want to make it into the NBA, you also need outstanding mental fortitude."

This is just high school and college, where the attention is limited. Once you get to the NBA, the fans, the media—everyone puts you under a microscope. How could you possibly face that intense competition without a strong mind?

If they really lose their confidence and drive because of one one-on-one, then they might as well give up basketball early and just focus on college.

Jabbar grimaced, but he couldn’t deny that Chen Yu was right.

Just as Johnson was about to offer his comments, Jordan suddenly spoke up. "Derek Rose, do you know what your problem is?"

Rose shook his head, looking lost.

Jordan suddenly stood up and began to unbutton his suit jacket.

Chen Yu was slightly taken aback. ’Is he going to give a live demonstration?’

In fact, before the show started filming, Chen Yu had communicated with them that to increase the show’s drama, they could add more twists and turns, inject some plot.

After all, this was a TV show; a run-of-the-mill audition process just wouldn’t cut it.

The key thing was, he hadn’t expected Jordan to be so cooperative.

Jordan coolly tossed his suit jacket onto the table, rolling up his sleeves as he walked. He gestured for the basketball and casually dribbled it a couple of times.

At 41 years old and a year away from the game, the moment the basketball touched his hands, his whole aura elevated to another level.

The key thing was, his moves looked sharp and authentic.

Jordan motioned for Ford to stand in front of him. Palming the ball with one hand, he said to Rose, "Do you know what the most important thing is in an American-style one-on-one?"

Rose quickly shook his head.

Meanwhile, backstage and on the adjacent court, all the other players were going crazy.

Getting pointers from Jordan himself felt like a dream.

"It’s reading the defense."

Jordan pointed to his own eyes with a fierce gaze. "You have to understand how your opponent is defending you to know how to attack. Also, do you know why your jab step and triple threat are ineffective?"

Rose shook his head again.

"Distance."

Jordan pointed to the space between himself and Ford.

"Center of gravity."

He patted his lower back.

"And most importantly, your eyes."

He once again pointed to his eyes with two fingers. "Always look your opponent straight in the eye, don’t focus on what moves you’re making."

"Like this."

Jordan palmed the basketball with his right hand and turned to face Ford.

Their eyes met, and even Chen Yu could see Ford’s nervousness.

Then, with just a subtle movement of his left foot, a shift in his gaze, and a momentary start-and-stop of his body, Jordan pulled up and shot.

Ford seemed frozen in place, unable to react at all.

SWISH. The basketball shot through the net like an arrow through the heart.

At the judges’ table, Chen Yu and the other five began to applaud.

Chen Yu quietly breathed a sigh of relief. Even though the show was being recorded and they could do another take, he was genuinely afraid Jordan would flub it in front of so many people.

’But then again, that’s unlikely,’ he thought.

This was Jordan, after all.

He might be a bit older, but next door, the 54-year-old Dr. J could still dunk.

"Understand?"

Jordan turned and asked. His expression and tone were just like the Sweeping Monk calmly taking a blow from Qiao Feng and then casually remarking, "Benefactor, what fine martial arts," exuding the air of a grandmaster.

’The real question is, aren’t you worried the kid won’t understand a thing?’

Why are the triple threat moves of Jordan and Kobe so much more effective than yours? Ultimately, it’s because they are a genuine threat, and you are not.

Most importantly, their skills and experience were forged through relentless practice and countless repetitions. It was like a peerless master casually throwing a palm strike and telling you, "See? The Tathagata Divine Palm is that simple. Did you get it?"

It would be a miracle if Rose could actually learn it just like that.

Sure enough, Rose’s expression showed he only half-understood.

But soon, he looked up and said, "Can I try again?"

Jordan nodded and turned to give him space.

Ford grimaced to himself. ’For the sake of the show, maybe I should go a little easy on him. Otherwise, all of Jordan’s pointers would be for nothing, which would look bad.’

However, when Rose actually stood before him, Ford discovered the kid really had changed.

Before, except for the first basket, maybe due to a lack of confidence or something, his eyes were mostly focused on himself.

But now, he dared to look Ford straight in the eye.

Ford could even sense a focus emanating from him.

And when an opponent is focused, Ford naturally got drawn into that focused rhythm as well.

Then Rose made his move. A hard dribble, a hesitation, feinting a drive.

Caught in that rhythm, Ford almost instinctively shifted his center of gravity.

Then Rose shot it.

By the time Ford reacted, he was a beat too slow.

SWISH. The basketball went through the net.

Rose was stunned. Ford was stunned too.

Jordan, standing on the side, was also stunned. ’Did this kid really understand?’

On the sidelines, Chen Yu and the others were equally stunned.

The six of them exchanged glances, their eyes filled with surprise.

Chen Yu looked at Rose in amazement. ’He got it already?’

’That’s impossible!’

In the adjacent warehouse, the two hundred or so other players were also stunned.

"Fack, he actually scored," DeRozan exclaimed in a low voice.

He felt like there was no difference between Rose’s offense before and now, but it just went in.

Holidays stared intently at the big screen and muttered, "No, it’s different. I think I understood something too."

DeRozan turned to him with an expression that said, "What could you possibly understand?"

Seeing DeRozan’s skeptical gaze, Holidays hurriedly said, "I really get it, but I just... can’t put it into words."

He was eager to explain his understanding.

Before, whether playing streetball, one-on-one, or for the school team, perhaps because he was young, Holidays would naturally choose to attack in a cool-looking way.

He would show off, using the flashiest moves to score.

But at this moment, Holidays suddenly felt that approach was wrong. He didn’t need all those extra moves at all; the simplest moves would do.

Read the opponent’s defense, find the opening, make the corresponding move, and score. It was that simple.

"It’s something like that. Do you guys get it?" Holidays looked at his three companions.

The three exchanged a look, their frantic expressions seeming to say, "What are we supposed to get?"

Back at the audition, Chen Yu was the first to react, and he started to applaud.

All you could say was, the kid was truly smart, born to eat, sleep, and breathe basketball.

"Michael, nice job."

Chen Yu gave Jordan a thumbs-up.

Jordan laughed, his mood suddenly improving greatly.

He loved smart people like this. Thinking back to his last two years playing for the Wizards, looking at that pile of idiots gave him a massive headache.

"Derek Rose, I’ll remember your name."

Jordan patted Rose’s shoulder, thought for a moment, then asked for the basketball and a pen. With a few quick strokes, he signed his famous name and handed it to Rose.

One of the benefits of inviting a bunch of legendary players was that they could hand out signed memorabilia anytime, anywhere.

"Rose." Jordan repeated the name twice, then said, "Is your nickname ’Rose’?"

Cradling the signed basketball, Rose shook his head blankly.

"Then let’s call you Rose. What a great nickname. I hope you can bloom as beautifully as a rose." The usually gruff Jordan was having a rare moment of elegance, giving the kid a nickname without even asking if he agreed.

The key thing was, he was a big guy. The nickname ’Rose’ was so awkward.

He was even making a pun.

"Let’s vote," Chen Yu said.

With a performance like that, it would be unreasonable not to pass him.

The seven of them exchanged glances and all gave him a pass.

"Thank you."

Rose thanked them repeatedly in his excitement, bowed, and ran off.

Ford scratched his head and sat back down, feeling pained.

"TJ, you went easy on him for that last shot, didn’t you?" Wade asked in a low voice.

Ford felt even more pained. He paused and said, "Just assume I went easy on him."

The others exchanged knowing looks.

Jordan himself had come down to give pointers. It would be wrong not to go easy and let Rose show what he’d learned.

But whether he’d actually gone easy or not, only Ford himself knew.

On that play, he had been caught by surprise and was a bit lax, but he hadn’t truly gone easy on him.

’Derek Rose.’

Ford repeated the name softly.

He had remembered it too.

The auditions continued.

Rose remained the only one who had managed to score a basket.

"Number 68."

Russell Westbrook.

Chen Yu looked up, sizing up the guy who was supposedly so good at math he could get a scholarship to Stanford.

His immediate impression was that he was short.

At 5-foot-9, or 1.77 meters, he was just too short.

And his performance was mediocre. At least, Chen Yu couldn’t see much outstanding potential in him.

To be honest, if someone couldn’t dominate after entering high school, their chances of making it to the NBA later would plummet.

If you wanted to even warm the bench in the NBA, you first had to be the Jordan of your own story.

Compared to Westbrook, his good friend, Kelsey Barlow, was the one with real, exceptional talent, ranked highly by multiple media outlets among all high school students in the nation.

’A pity...’

Chen Yu snapped back to the present.

As expected, Westbrook got shut out just like everyone else, and his performance was even worse.

Chen Yu turned his head to look at Negro.

He shook his head slightly.

Johnson said a few perfunctory, encouraging words, and then the voting began.

There was only one green light.

It came from Chen Yu.

Chen Yu had given him a pity vote.

Westbrook bit his lip. He wasn’t surprised by the result, but when it actually happened, it still hurt.

It wasn’t just because he performed poorly; it was also because he felt he couldn’t carry on his good friend’s will, that he had let his friend down.

"Thank you. I’ll keep working hard."

He gave everyone a deep bow and turned to leave.

That reaction, however, made Chen Yu raise an eyebrow and pay a bit more attention.

Setting aside his skills and talent, at least his fighting spirit in the face of this setback was commendable.