18 - Shot Selection (2)
Shin Suryeon watched the game with a knot of anxiety twisting in her gut.
Even as her friends—brought along to hype up the athletic specialists—gushed more over the players' looks than the action itself, she clenched her fists tight, eyes glued to the court.
She was worried.
The opponents were just too strong.
By the point in the first quarter where the score hit 7-14—a double-digit gap—she sighed in resignation. Guess they're the top high school team for a reason.
Fluid movements, razor-sharp passes, and that innate aura only born winners possessed.
From that moment, she half-gave up.
No matter how incredible Lee Seojun was, Yongseon High was too formidable for Sangwon to claw back into a close game.
But then, starting with Seojun's two free throws, the momentum shifted like a storm breaking.
Four straight possessions, all scores—nine unanswered points to close the gap, capped by a dunk that obliterated the defense.
"Ahh...!?"
Suryeon slapped a hand over her mouth in shock before she could stop herself.
Even her friends, who'd barely cared about the game, let out gasps of awe.
"Whoa! Did that guy just fly?"
"What the hell—who is that!?"
"Insane!"
They weren't the only ones. The real basketball savvy folks lost it even harder.
"He posterized them!?"
"That crazy bastard...!"
College coaches and pro scouts jolted upright, jaws on the floor.
One of them shouted,
"That's gotta be the longest in-game dunk in Korean basketball history!"
Everyone nodded furiously.
It was from about 70cm beyond the free-throw line—still the farthest anyone could recall in a domestic game. Plenty in the NBA, sure, but here? Unmatched.
And the implications hit hard.
"Does that mean he wasn't even pushing his limits until now...!?"
"I thought he was top college physicality... Nah, that's pro elite already!"
"A total freak!"
Even Yongseon High's coach Kim Seong-su—who'd figured they could handle Seojun—clamped his mouth shut, pupils dilating wildly.
His pre-game certainty of victory? Vanished.
The first quarter ended 21-22, Sangwon up by one, but that late surge meant momentum had swung their way.
And it didn't stop there.
Sangwon was cooking up tactical counters too.
In the brief huddle before the second quarter, captain Kim Chang-min mulled over the foes' strategy.
Box-and-one plus fastbreaks... Jump shots are our only answer, right?
He opened his mouth to push for more aggressive jumpers in the quarter—
But Seojun cut in.
"Chang-min, their tactic right now—it's straight-up nonsense, yeah?"
"Huh?"
"C'mon, zone defense and fastbreaks? Doesn't add up."
Seojun's tactical eye was sharp as a striker's—honed from years on the pitch.
His style demanded it: hold up with his back to goal, ping to open teammates, burst into the box. Pinpoint headed assists.
That level of play required deep tactical IQ.
Now, with basketball knowledge stacking up, that sense was shining through.
"If we hit 'em right back with our own fastbreaks, their zone crumbles—no time to set."
"...!"
Spot on. Zone D thrives on pre-positioning.
Counter with transition? No chance.
"Plus, that center—Shim Hyeong-cheol. Dude doesn't sprint in transition. If I handle the backcourt clean, it's 5-on-4 numerical edge."
So, punish their breaks with our own.
Chang-min swallowed hard at Seojun's pitch.
He marveled daily at the growth, but this? Leadership too?
"And Shin Subin! Get over here."
Seojun beckoned Subin forward, then smack! lightly clapped his cheeks with both palms.
"Why so passive today, man? Step up! You're team Option 1 with me—we gotta lead!"
"...!"
Subin's eyes widened.
Everyone knew Seojun was the undisputed ace; the rest were role players.
Hearing him call them equal 1-options, dead serious? It lit a fire.
"Transition's all about ball-handling, and I'm not there yet. You and Chang-min tag-team it, got it?"
"...Yeah. I'll step up more."
"Good. And Baek-ho, Dae-man! C'mere."
Seojun rallying the squad.
Paired with the first-quarter closeout momentum, it sparked pure synergy.
The game looked neck-and-neck.
But from the second quarter, a torrent unleashed.
Fastbreak wars at the core.
Sangwon started punishing Yongseon's breaks with their own, flipping the script.
Thud! Seojun's midrange jumper bricks; center Shim Hyeong-cheol snags the board and lobs long to his sprinting guard.
"Fastbreak!"
Four Yongseon players bolting full-tilt.
Sangwon scrambled back, but experience showed—Yongseon zipped two passes, shook the D, laid it in.
"Hmph..."
Seojun narrowed his eyes, tracking every move, then whipped his hand.
"We go now!"
Byeong-su snatches the ball, inbounds to Chang-min.
Chang-min shrugs pressure, fires long crosscourt to Subin.
Subin jets—thud, thud, thud! Defender glued to his hip, hits the 45-degree mark, whips it to the free-throw line.
Seojun streaks in, catches, drives straight to the rim.
Only paint protector: Shim Hyeong-cheol.
"Ngh...!"
Shim leaps to contest, but Seojun sidesteps slick, evades, lays it home.
"Nice one, bro!"
Smack! Seojun high-fives Subin on the backpedal.
Yongseon pushed back, refusing to yield.
"Don't hesitate! Focus up!"
Coach Kim Seong-su urged them on, sticking to the plan.
Half-court sets stayed tight: Yongseon carved open looks with motion, Sangwon countered with Seojun drives and Subin's midrange jumpers.
The separator? Attack style.
High-post and perimeter play's Achilles' heel: shooting droughts.
While Yongseon stalled for 2:20, Seojun attacked the rim relentlessly—three freebies, two field goals. Seven points.
Three minutes left in Q2: 43-35 Sangwon, up eight.
Timeout. Kim slams the whiteboard. "You should've adapted by now! Why can't you crack the paint?!"
Roaring about failing to adjust to Seojun's D.
Any defense has gaps—basketball's a game of choices.
Guard one guy, free another. Teammates must rotate.
Seojun could only cover one.
That was the point.
"Shake him, create the hole! But you're scared shitless, bailing to the perimeter?!"
Captain Lee Hae-young protested,
"He keeps tweaking his footwork! Reads our plays once, adapts instantly... We hesitate!"
In other words: Their defender adapted to offenses faster than offenses to him.
Kim's eyes bulged. He felt the pressure aura from that dominant D.
"Th-that's psychological! Play confident—it'll work! It's all mindset!"
He shoved them back out, palms slick with sweat.
2:38 left in Q2.
Yongseon dusted off Q1's pick-and-slip: Shim fakes screen, rolls hard, catches, dunks.
Worked once on Seojun.
Not now.
"Chang-min!"
"...!"
Screech! Thwack! Seojun ignores Shim's roll, cranks pressure on the handler—no pass lane.
No real screen means Chang-min skips it, clamps too.
Double-team the handler.
Chang-min pounces, strips—thud! Loose ball.
Subin scoops, transitions, scores. 45-35. Ten-point swing.
Grind! Kim grits his teeth. "Keep pushing! Fast!"
Lee Hae-young outlets quick—Yongseon surges.
Center side to right 45.
Sharp pass to cutting Lee Young-jun.
Clean layup attempt.
One digit again!
But...
Seojun—shadow at his back.
"Fool me once—not twice."
"...!?"
Wham!! Chase-down swat. Ball ricochets off the backboard—Subin snags it.
"Shit... Backpedal, now!"
Yongseon hustles back, teeth clenched.
Subin drives hard for layup, but desperate D strips his timing.
"Urgh...!"
Stuck short corner, Subin pivots—trapped.
Dumps to Byeong-su in right corner.
Yongseon contests even the non-threat.
Byeong-su zips to Jin-hyeok at 45—Jin-hyeok dodges, kicks top.
Thud, thud, thud! Fluid passes land at Seojun, just crossing the arc.
Seojun rides the rhythm, rises...
Lee Young-jun overcommits from behind—clips the arm.
Beep! Whistle. Ball rims out, sucks in: swish!
"Ahh...!"
Kim clutches his head. Yongseon despairs.
"Niiiice!!!"
"... ."
"You alien freak!"
"Whoaaa!"
Chang-min roars. Subin fists the air. Jin-hyeok and Byeong-su pump fists.
Seojun calms the celebrating crew.
"I get the hype, but free throw first!"
Seojun sinks the and-one coolly. 49-35. Fourteen points.
Game over. Seojun's presence was too massive for a fight.