A Crane Among Chickens (2)
Seong Jin-ho started to say something in response to the phrase about being born different, but he clamped his mouth shut.
He knew better than anyone just how extraordinary Lee Seojun's athleticism was.
But soccer wasn't all about raw physical ability. In fact, excessive athleticism could even be a hindrance.
That was why soccer players avoided bulking up too much.
Bulking up boosted athleticism, but it tanked stamina, making it hard to last 90 minutes, and wrecked balance, ruining fine ball control.
"So basketball would make better use of that physical talent, huh."
A flicker of bitterness crossed his eyes.
His prized pupil, raised from middle school days. Lately, though, he'd been filled with regrets.
Regrets about forcing Seojun into such a one-dimensional role. If he'd trained ball control too, wouldn't Seojun have become an even better player?
So if basketball offered a shot at greater success than soccer...
"Eun-ho. Think Seojun's got what it takes to go pro?"
"Absolutely. Hell, he could do it right now in his current state."
"Right now? Come on, that's a stretch."
"Sure, he'd need some polishing, but it's more than enough. Domestic talent at power forward or center is scarce. With that height, athleticism, and defensive instincts, he could guard positions 1 through 4 in Korea. Centers are all imports battling it out anyway, so he'd be the defensive anchor backing them up. That's pro-competitive right there."
"What about overseas?"
"Pardon?"
"A player's dream is the big leagues. Could he make the NBA?"
"Uh..."
Park Eun-ho was caught off guard, his words failing him.
"Seojun's no dropout. Keep him in soccer like this, and he could hit Europe... even the Premier League. So if he's switching to basketball, it better offer a comparable shot at the top."
"Haha..."
Eun-ho let out a dry chuckle and shook his head.
"NBA's impossible. That's a whole different world."
"Different how?"
"Didn't I just call him a crane among chickens? Flip that around."
"Flip it?"
"He'd be the chicken looking up at the crane."
That's the NBA, Eun-ho said firmly.
About four frantic minutes in, the ref blew the whistle, pausing the game. The players naturally headed to the bench.
This must be a timeout.
I wiped sweat with a towel handed over by a bench player and made my way to the coach.
The atmosphere had flipped dramatically.
The sneers aimed at me had vanished like they'd been washed away, and Coach Choi Yoon-jung's gaze on me was anything but ordinary.
Ignoring the other players, he beckoned me right in front of him and spoke.
"How much basketball have you played?"
"This game's my first."
"Cut the crap."
"For real."
"Fine, but you must've picked up something watching."
If it was that...
"I binge-read Slam Dunk yesterday."
Silence fell.
Even the coach was speechless for five seconds.
"························What?"
Was it that weird an answer? The players looked dumbfounded too.
Coach Choi's pupils shook wildly.
"R-right. Okay, whatever. Hold on. Just... hold on... Hoo...!"
He took deep breaths, steadying himself like he was dizzy, then...
"Hey! Pass me the ball!"
He grabbed a basketball from nearby and held it out to me.
"Dribble it."
"Okay!"
I hadn't dribbled once in the game today, so I was a bit tense. But how hard could bouncing a ball be?
Thump! Thump! Thump! Staring hard at the ball, I bounced it repeatedly from waist height.
Hey, I'm pretty good at this.
Pride swelled, but apparently, fixating on the ball while dribbling was amateur hour to anyone skilled.
"Fuck, you really are a total beginner...!?"
Coach Choi Yoon-jung gaped in shock.
In soccer, you dribble while watching the ball—it's basic. Guess basketball's different.
Definitely a difference.
I awkwardly handed the ball back. Then the ref yelled our way.
"One minute up!"
But Coach Choi raised his palm and waved it.
"Give us three more minutes."
Being a friendly scrimmage, the ref nodded and signaled the other team.
With three extra minutes secured, Coach Choi gripped the ball I'd passed back and fixed me with a stern look.
"No dribbling. Like before, drive in and post up near the rim."
"Got it."
"Then hold the ball with both hands and pivot like this. Keep your pivot foot planted; the other can move. You saw it in Slam Dunk, right?"
"Uh, no."
"It was in there. Anyway, pivot to create an opening, then attack with one step off the pivot foot—finish before it touches back down. Got it?"
"I'll give it a shot."
"Good. It's simple, so stay calm."
The game resumed with our offense.
I took position in the corner as instructed. Kim Han-ul desperately tried to shove me out, but no dice.
As I entered the painted area—what Coach called the paint zone—they pressured our point guard.
With me deep inside narrowing the space, they denied the entry pass and blocked passing lanes.
No more easy entry passes like before.
"They're denying you! Use more space!"
Coach blamed the point guard, but their pressure was too intense, so I had to step out to receive.
Once I backed out of the paint, space opened on both sides, letting me catch a safe entry pass.
Whoosh—the ball sailed toward me.
I caught it and posted up against Kim Han-ul.
And now, pivot.
Normally, you'd dribble to back him down, close to the rim, then pivot—like Kim Han-ul had done. But no dribbling for me, so straight to it here.
Pivot on the left foot...
I shuffled my right foot, scanning for space.
Screech! Screech! Squeak! Friction echoed loudly.
I spun side to side, hunting openings, but as a newbie, I couldn't spot them clearly.
Still, my speed rattled him badly.
So when space appeared, I blasted through with speed—and it worked.
"Hng...!"
Screech! I stepped, lifted my pivot foot, blew past his left. Planted and jumped toward the rim.
My head was about a meter from the rim at takeoff.
Dunk seemed iffy, so I planned to lay it up as close as possible.
Lay it up! ...Wait, too far!
Distance forced a soft toss.
Layups had stumped even Kang Baek-ho plenty, so I figured one-and-done success was unlikely... but.
Clang! Swish! It rimmed out but dropped in surprisingly easy.
My first points.
Ooh...! It worked somehow.
Chaotic, but I was getting the hang of it.
Attacks without dribbling? Right up my alley.
Plus, even while pivoting, I could track the other players.
That meant pass options if needed.
Attacks like this for now.
After that, it flowed smoothly.
Defense: Keep their center off the rim, help on drives, box out on jump shots for boards.
Offense: Post up, pivot for openings—pass if available, one-step drive to layup or hook if not.
Obvious pick-your-poison stuff, yet Kim Han-ul struggled.
He couldn't match my speed at all.
Panicking, he swatted my arm.
Beep! Whistle blew.
Ref called it a shooting foul, awarding free throws.
Free throws?
Kang Baek-ho's infamous brick-fests flashed in my mind, but this was just a test—no need for comedy.
Maybe sink one?
Both shots clanged off harmlessly. Scoreless.
That seemed to tip them off—fouls ramped up after.
Every pivot-drive? Foul. My scoring stalled.
By halftime, Kim Han-ul fouled out at five, but the sub handled me better.
194cm, smaller than Kim but quicker. Tougher to find openings.
I could blow by with speed, but his fast closeouts disrupted my layups and hooks—nerves made me miss.
Coach Choi bellowed to back down for shorter shots, but I didn't know how.
Not everything clicks perfectly.
I shifted to passes over forcing shots, riding out the rest.
No rush—I'd grasped basketball's basics this game.
The scrimmage between Baesung High and Shinil High sophomores wrapped up.
Final: 66-42, Baesung's 24-point blowout.
Considering them evenly matched, this was shocking.
Shinil's coach, Im Cheol-min, stared daggers at the cause.
What the hell is that monster kid? Where'd he pop up from?
Lots of breaks in practice, sure, but he played all 40 minutes without tiring.
Insane stamina for a center.
And his line:
8 PTS (FG 3/9, FT 2/12)
8 AST • 19 REB (4 OFF, 15 DEF)
5 BLK • 2 STL
Just shy of a triple-double.
FG% was meh for a center, but other impacts were monstrous.
He zeroed in on the assists.
A center dishing A-passes from down there? Brutal!
A new breed to him.
A center with elite vision.
Fully realized? Triple-doubles for breakfast.
Curiocity burned; post-game, he cornered Coach Choi.
"Coach Choi. What's with that kid? Secret weapon for this year?"
Choi's eyes flashed wariness.
"Something like that. Butt out and let's get the juniors' game going."
"...?"
Sensing suspicion, Im Cheol-min clocked Seojun wasn't Baesung's.
Then we've got a shot too?
G greed lit his eyes.
Slot Seojun in? Dominate every tourney this year.
Post-game.
I chatted with Coach Seong Jin-ho in the gym corner about next steps.
He seemed ready to dissuade me again after my humiliation, but even he sighed deeply—this test hadn't bombed.
"Thought you were nuts jumping to basketball, but looks like you've got a path."
"Not sure I'd call it a path..."
Just figured a divine being wouldn't regress me without talent for it.
Of course, one high school scrimmage doesn't prove genius.
Real hurdles ahead.
But I'd found weapons this game: defense, and my unique vision.
"...I'm still against it. Ditching all you've built for a blind alley in a whole new sport? You've got pro potential! Talent others kill for and still miss—you know that! Your peers, juniors—they envy and idolize you! And you quit steps from pro? That's betraying everyone who's backed you. You get that, right?"
"..."
Was Coach Seong dead-set against it to the end?
But then.
"So! Don't half-ass it."
"Huh?"
"Become the best, so even the betrayed buy in."
"...!"
He nailed it down hard.
"If you're doing it, go NBA. Aim domestic pro half-heartedly? I won't let you. I'll grab your ankle and stop you."
Testing my resolve.
One answer.
"Yes! I'll make the NBA, just watch!"
"Heh, that's more like it. I'll handle withdrawal and transfer paperwork. Take your time picking the school."
He clapped my shoulder and left.
I knew it.
He regretted not molding me into a more versatile striker.
But I thought different.
If I'd made the big leagues, it was all thanks to him.
"Thank you for everything!"
I bowed deeply to his back.