The Rookie's Challenge

I once had a reporter ask me a question.

What’s the most important thing in team sports?

A serious attitude toward training? Meticulous self-management?

I answered like this.

Building relationships with your teammates.

That kind of attitude might sound cool…

But it only works for a handful of white players.

Especially if an Asian player acts that way, they usually end up isolated in no time. More than anything, it means your teammates won’t pass you the ball.

People might wonder how professionals could possibly withhold passes over personal feelings, but the pros are still just people living in the same world.

I suffered a lot because of that during my first and second years in the Bundesliga.

The turning point for me came after a front office staff member helped bridge the gap.

Thanks to that staffer, I started talking with the players, improved my language skills, built real friendships, and my on-court chemistry improved dramatically. My performance shot up as a result.

Taking that lesson to heart, during my time at Everton I made myself a central part of the team and eventually earned the captain’s armband.

‘It really was tough.’

Soccer teams are especially large, so there were so many relationships to manage.

Basketball, on the other hand, was relatively easy.

The roster was smaller, and most players brought their own crews with them, which made gathering information through those connections much simpler.

When it was this easy, failing to build those relationships would have been stupid.

And so, on the day of the preseason home game against Cleveland, I was eating lunch while listening to my manager, DeShawn.

“Korver’s second child was born on the fourth of this month. And it looks like Horford’s wife is due in February. Millsap seems really into the NFL lately.”

“Prepare a baby gift for Korver. Budget around a thousand dollars. And get something nice for Horford’s wife right away, maybe a prenatal gift in the same range. For the NFL… just grab one gossip-heavy magazine. That should be enough.”

“Got it. You want to give the gifts yourself?”

“I’ll just say the words. You handle the actual delivery. Consider it you making your own impression too.”

This was exactly why I had deliberately chosen a Black manager.

No matter how sociable a Korean manager might be, building a real community would have been difficult. But with DeShawn, the simple fact that he was Black got him eighty percent of the way there.

“Oh, and tell Mrs. Sung-mi the bulgogi was really delicious.”

“I’ll make sure she hears it. She’ll be thrilled.”

Mrs. Sung-mi was DeShawn’s wife.

She filled my fridge with all kinds of Korean side dishes every day. It felt like home-cooked meals, and I loved it.

‘The old man really put some thought into this.’

DeShawn was diligent and good at his job. His wife’s Korean cooking skills were excellent too.

I could clearly feel that the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠old man had paid attention to these small details.

‘Manager position is settled. Next, I need to find a medical trainer who also has a massage license.’

I was building my crew one person at a time.

Anyway.

I started getting ready for work and stood in front of the mirror to check today’s outfit.

It wasn’t the regular season yet, so they weren’t broadcasting arrival looks, but if I was going to do it, I figured I should start now.

‘Beige knit sweater with jeans… Perfect! Maybe I’ll even get called a fashionista?’

Starting next year, Seo-eun had promised to handle it, but I wanted to try doing this season myself. If I hired a designer now, she might end up getting compared to them later.

“DeShawn, what do you think? Looks good, right? I dress pretty well, don’t I?”

“Uh… yeah. It’s… nice.”

DeShawn just nodded awkwardly.

And so, with DeShawn at the wheel on the way to the arena, he kept sharing the information he’d gathered while I half-listened and reviewed Cleveland’s recent game logs.

Then something caught my ear.

“Jeff Teague is apparently convinced that LeBron James is on something.”

“…On something? You mean drugs?”

“No, steroids.”

“Tell me more.”

Our team’s starting point guard, Jeff Teague, had apparently been going around spreading conspiracy theories that LeBron was doping.

“Does he have any evidence?”

“If he did, it would’ve blown up already. There’s nothing. He just thinks so. It’s pure inferiority complex.”

“Ha…!”

I was floored.

Whether LeBron James had actually doped or not was beside the point.

What mattered was that Jeff Teague himself clearly felt an overwhelming wall when facing LeBron’s talent. He thought the only explanation was doping.

‘Even in practice. Just how overwhelming must LeBron’s presence feel for him to think that?’

A player so good that an All-Star level guard would get genuinely angry and claim he must be doping.

The thought of experiencing that reality today filled me with intense anticipation.

The preseason game, held ten days before the season opener.

During this period, starters’ minutes usually climbed into the mid-twenties, turning the games fairly serious.

That was why both our Atlanta Hawks and the opposing Cleveland Cavaliers rolled out their starting lineups.

Before they were introduced, I walked out to center court with interim GM Robert.

It was to greet the home fans.

The arena announcer introduced me in a booming voice, and the fans responded with applause and cheers.

“Welcome!”

“Lee Seo-jun, fighting!”

“Show them the spicy taste of Korea!”

More than three thousand Korean fans had shown up for today’s game, so the cheering atmosphere was intense.

‘I think Atlanta has the sixth-largest Korean population in the United States.’

That was one of the pieces of information DeShawn had given me.

“Thank you! I’ll do my best!”

I bowed deeply in all four directions to express my gratitude.

As I turned to head back to the bench…

“…”

“…”

I noticed the Cleveland players staring at me with meaningful looks.

LeBron and Anderson Varejão were whispering about something. Tristan Thompson and Waiters were snickering. Kyrie Irving just stared at me with a blank face.

It was because I had unexpectedly become quite famous among the players.

An Asian player selected ninth overall in the first round.

The expectations surrounding my ability were heavily skewed toward the negative. After all, the previous first-round seventh pick, Yi Jianlian, had been a big man who still shot a miserable forty percent from the field.

‘Horford did warn me.’

Most players apparently thought of me as nothing more than a league marketing tool.

‘Doesn’t matter. I’ll shatter that misconception today.’

Only after I returned to the bench did the player introductions for Cleveland begin.

.

.

.

The game started.

I sat on the bench, feeling the flow and pace of the NBA with my own skin.

The NBA games I was seeing in person could only be described one way.

They were violent.

‘The tempo is insanely fast.’

Fast breaks were the default. The moment any opening appeared, players would immediately sprint at full speed.

That naturally raised the baseline tempo and energy level of every game, which meant defenses had to match that intensity just to keep up.

‘And that’s not even the biggest thing…’

The players never stopped moving.

European basketball had plenty of constant motion too, but that was usually tactically predetermined. This, on the other hand, looked like pure, chaotic, instinctive movement.

It was incredibly aggressive and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠proactive.

Normally that kind of movement would create waste, but remarkably there was none. Only the advantages of aggressive play stood out.

‘There’s a high level of tactical design hidden inside this chaos.’

It had to be the work of the coaches and staff.

Basketball that didn’t kill the players’ natural instincts while the coaches provided precise support. The golden ratio between player and team.

That was the NBA.

I watched the game as if in a trance.

Cleveland took the lead early.

Kevin Love knocked down two straight threes for six quick points, pushing the score to 7-12.

‘Now I see why they say LeBron is smart.’

If the rumors were true and he had indeed recruited Love through tampering, it was a perfect decision. At least when it came to building an outside-oriented offense.

Just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠by having Love step out to set screens, both LeBron and Irving gained so much more room to operate.

Horford tried to switch with Millsap whenever the opponent hunted him, trying to stick to Tristan Thompson, but Cleveland’s constant motion kept pulling Horford out of position.

Horford attempted the hedge-and-recover defense they had practiced, but in that brief moment Kevin Love would hit a pick-and-pop or LeBron and Irving would blow past before the double-team could form. In the end, he had no choice but to switch and give up mismatches.

Whenever Horford faced LeBron or Irving, he was getting absolutely cooked.

“Ugh…”

Coach Budenholzer let out a frustrated groan. It was only natural. They had practiced so much, yet the defense was completely collapsing.

“This won’t work. It’s meaningless like this…”

The coach shook his head.

Eventually, he pulled out the vague plan he had only been considering.

Just three minutes into the game…

He called my name.

“Lee! Get ready to check in!”

“…Yes?”

“You’re replacing Horford. Hurry up and get ready!”

The assistant coaches’ eyes widened in surprise.

“Mike! Shouldn’t we watch a little longer? Testing it already seems…”

“I’m not looking at offense. I want to see defense. Horford isn’t there today. His defensive instincts haven’t come back yet. Watching any longer is pointless. Let’s test F-3 right now.”

Plan F-3. There was no grand meaning behind the name. It simply meant using three forwards.

In other words, going small.

Coach Budenholzer seemed to believe this small-ball lineup could be the tactical answer to stopping Cleveland’s offensive system.

As I headed to the substitution area, he whispered to me.

“Lee! You and Millsap need to contain Kevin Love.”

This game was, of course, being broadcast live back home.

The game had drawn intense interest even before tip-off.

SBC Sports, which had secured the season broadcasting rights, opened the broadcast with great energy.

The game continued.

At the moment, Cleveland had moved starting center Anderson Varejão to the bench.

His lack of mobility made him vulnerable to being targeted in defensive rotations. If Horford managed to hide on Varejão, the strategy would fall apart, so they were using the more mobile Tristan Thompson to hunt Horford instead. Overall, it was essentially a small-ball approach.

Cleveland’s offense was clean and powerful.

At that moment, the camera caught Seo-jun moving toward the sideline.

A foul was called and the game paused briefly.

Seo-jun subbed in for Horford and stepped onto the court.

Analyst Eom Sang-hyun raised his eyebrows.

Seo-jun was matched up against Tristan Thompson. Millsap took Kevin Love.

With that change, Cleveland’s screen actions lost efficiency.

Because Millsap could simply follow Love out and switching became a non-issue.

“Hmm…”

LeBron seemed to have anticipated Atlanta’s adjustment. He passed the ball to Irving and prepared to cut inside.

It was more effective for Irving to face Millsap than for LeBron to do it himself.

Irving received the ball and immediately began shaking Millsap with his dribble.

In the meantime, Tristan Thompson, who had been battling Seo-jun for position, let out a sneer.

“You think you can guard me? What are you even good for?”

“…”

“I said, what are you good for?”

“…”

“Hah, you can’t even speak English, can you?”

Seo-jun didn’t respond. He simply kept his eyes sharp and focused on the opposing play.

Then it happened.

Thump, thump. Thump, bang! After a leg-through dribble and a lightning crossover, Irving blew past Millsap.

Seo-jun reacted like lightning.

Screech! Using a perfectly timed split step that matched Irving’s dribble, he maximized his initial reaction speed, planted hard to generate maximum friction, and exploded into help defense, cutting off Irving’s driving lane in an instant.

“…!”

Even Irving showed a flash of surprise at the movement.

But that was all. He showed no sign of slowing down.

He simply collided with Seo-jun in mid-air, then instead of shooting, flicked the ball toward Thompson with a subtle touch.

A perfect pass. However, Atlanta’s defensive focus was excellent.

“Paul!”

At Seo-jun’s call while rising with Irving, Millsap immediately rotated over to Thompson.

Thompson, now covered by Millsap, couldn’t go straight up. He tried a useless pump fake, then finally jumped for a shot under the basket, but Seo-jun came from the side and swatted at the ball.

Smack! The ball was stripped. It ricocheted off Thompson’s knee and went out of bounds.

It was a good defensive stand that earned applause from the Atlanta crowd.

“Tsk…”

Thompson clicked his tongue and jogged back on defense.

As Seo-jun passed by him, he muttered under his breath.

“Then what are you good for?”

“…!!”

“And I can speak English, by the way. For that matter, can you speak Korean? Well, I guess English is the world’s common language. …Oh, right, it actually is.”

Seo-jun nodded to himself as he ran down the court.

Thompson was furious. A rookie just drafted this year had the nerve to talk ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠trash right back at him? The disrespect was off the charts.

He vowed to shut Seo-jun down on defense.

…But an unexpected situation soon unfolded for Thompson as well.

It happened right after Seo-jun gave Jeff Teague a hand signal and set up in position.

Teague brought the ball up and, instead of calling for a screen, simply passed it to Seo-jun.

The broadcast team was stunned.

It was only natural.

The player standing in front of Seo-jun at the left forty-five degree mark was LeBron James.

A one-on-one against LeBron James.

A egg trying to crack a boulder.

At Seo-jun’s bold move, the Atlanta fans responded with ear-splitting cheers.

It was only natural for them to explode when their team’s rookie was throwing down the gauntlet against the league’s best player.

“Let’s gooooo!”

“Put a two-handed dunk on LeBron’s head!”

“Seo-juuuun!”

“Lee Seo-juuuun!”

The arena became uncontrollably loud.

In the midst of it all…

“…Hah.”

LeBron James let out a hollow laugh, as if he found the whole thing ridiculous.