Role Model
After seeing Coach Seong Jin-ho off, I sat in the stands intending to watch the seniors' game, but I didn't have the luxury.
The coaches from both teams left the game to their assistants and approached me instead.
Choi Yoon-jung from Baesung High was first, acting like it was a given after I passed the test, and immediately brought up transferring.
"You can join us even before the transfer paperwork's done. Let's train together for now. Come to our school starting next Monday and work out."
He laid out a growth vision for me like I was already his player.
But then, for some reason, the Shinil High coach, Im Cheol-min, butted in.
"So, you still haven't found a basketball team for the tournament, right? That's it, isn't it!?"
Choi scowled at the interruption, trying to shoo him away like he'd spoken first, but the other guy didn't back down.
"If that's the case, I'll turn you into the best high school center! No need to worry about college! Hell, I'll make history by getting a high school grad picked first overall in the draft! Come to Shinil High!"
Not to be outdone, Coach Choi shouted back.
"What right does a school with zero national tournament wins have to talk big? Seojun, Baesung High is the real powerhouse! We're top five for producing centers! Even our humanities kids study hard, so the school's got a great vibe! You know how trash commercial high schools can be, right?"
"What did you just say!? Trash?"
"Did I lie?"
The tension was rising when, fortunately, a mediator stepped in.
A bearded man—Coach Seong Jin-ho's junior, Park Eun-ho.
"Hey, Yoon-jung! There's a seniors' game going on—coaches can't just leave their posts. Coach Im, head back too? The parents are watching."
"Ahem!" "Uh..."
They glanced around sheepishly. Sure enough, the players' parents in the stands were shooting displeased looks our way.
It made sense—their sons' game was on, and the coaches were off chatting elsewhere.
As the two slunk back to their benches awkwardly, Park Eun-ho let out a small sigh of understanding and turned to me.
"Good work today, Seojun. With your skills, any basketball team would take you. No need to limit yourself to Baesung or Shinil. Once you've made up your mind, let me know. I'll write you a recommendation letter for whichever school."
"Really? Uh, I mean..."
"Don't trust me? Kid, I'm the Seongwon University basketball coach. I've got pull—pick wherever you want to go."
With that, he handed me his business card.
"Give me a call. Recommendation or not, hit me up if you've got questions."
"Yes, sir! Thank you!"
"Alright, see you around."
He left the gym, apparently on a schedule.
I headed out myself around the start of the second quarter in the seniors' game.
I sat on a park bench outside the gym, lost in thought.
Originally, I planned to join any basketball team.
I needed a place to build fundamentals right now. As long as I could train, location didn't matter.
When Baesung's coach first mentioned transferring, I was ready to say yes on the spot.
But after hearing what came next, I changed my mind.
—I'll turn you into the best high school center!
—We're top five for centers!
The coaches wanted to mold me into a center.
That's when it hit me.
'Me? A center?'
Sure, I'd played center today and held my own, but I didn't see it as my true fit.
'I may not know basketball, but...'
I pulled out my phone and searched LeBron James.
He was so famous, his basic profile popped up instantly.
'LeBron James. 206cm barefoot, 117kg.'
Compared to me, that's 6cm taller barefoot and 17kg heavier.
Not to downplay myself, but LeBron was undeniably the world's best—his physicals had to be superior.
Yet even he...
'...plays small forward, not center.'
Position 3, right in the middle.
That meant in the NBA, guys bigger and stronger than him played center and power forward. By that standard, I had no business at center.
No matter my athleticism, pitting me against 210cm+ behemoths in strength battles was insane.
In other words, for the NBA, I was built to grow as a small forward.
Training me as a center? In soccer terms, it was like turning a future winger into a center-back for quick results.
'No way.'
Even reading Slam Dunk, I'd dreamed of guys like Kang Baek-ho or Seo Tae-woong—not Chae Chi-su or Byun Duk-kyu.
And above all, my one hint from the future.
'I've gotta master the three-pointer.'
I didn't know details, but back then, over drinks, they'd said the NBA was entering the three-point era. Players who couldn't shoot threes got phased out, no matter the position.
I wasn't letting that future tip slip.
Threes were non-negotiable.
Training as a center made zero sense for that.
'But if every coach is singing the center tune, it seems like I won't have say over my training no matter the school.'
What I needed was a school that respected personal training autonomy.
'Can't rush this decision.'
Going along with center drills naively felt like it'd lead to irreversible damage.
I dusted off my butt, got up from the bench, and headed for the bus stop.
Beep! A horn blared behind me. I turned to see a familiar SUV.
The guy who'd sold me the shoes. Looked like he'd watched my game to the end.
"Heading home now? Want a ride?"
"Oh, no, I'm fine..."
Actually, this was perfect timing.
He was an NBA nut—knew way more than me.
"Mind if I take you up on that?"
"Hop in! Hop in!"
In the passenger seat, I opened up about my dilemma honestly.
He agreed a 2m barefoot guy like me couldn't play center in the NBA.
"These days, there's small-ball lineups where guys that size run center sometimes, but they're not playing traditional five full-time."
"Got it."
"The team you're joining wants you at center?"
"Something like that. But I want to train for a position that fits my build."
"..."
He hemmed and hawed, then flicked on his hazards and pulled over.
"Uh...? My place is in Sanghyeon-dong. No bus from here..."
"Got something to say first. Seojun, right? Last name?"
"Lee Seojun."
"Right, Seojun."
He swallowed hard.
"If that's the case, how about joining my kid's high school basketball team?"
He scouted me.
The weekend tryouts passed, and I dove into transfer prep.
Surprisingly, the shoe seller—Shin Won-hyung—had introduced me to the perfect high school team for now.
'A team with free training. Nice.'
Probably 'cause their roster was weak, but whatever.
They had an indoor gym on campus, training until 11 p.m. if you wanted—top-tier setup.
Decision made, transfer date came quick.
High school transfers aren't easy, but with no basketball team at my school, it was justified for "educational opportunity." Plus, my parents' accident smoothed it over.
April 29th, next Monday.
Until then, I'd focus on intel—mostly NBA news.
'So the three-point era started this 12-13 season.'
Stephen Curry exploding with 7.6 three attempts per game at 45%.
James Harden killing it post-Houston trade.
These two were sparking a shift.
LeBron vs. Tim Duncan rivalries and Kobe's prime still dominated, but Curry's rise signaled a new age for real.
'Kinda exciting.'
Thinking I'd jump into that era.
I watched player highlights on YouTube and NBA sites, settling on one task: picking role models.
'Who to choose?'
In soccer, I'd started by mimicking stars: Peter Crouch, Zlatan Ibrahimovic, Kevin Davies, David Trezeguet.
Imagined their play during drills.
Basketball was the same.
'Shooting-wise, Curry... nah, too unique.'
Couldn't just copy that form—would screw me up.
'Gotta nail basic shooting before fancy creation anyway.'
Candidates narrowed: Jamal Crawford, JJ Redick, Kobe Bryant, Steve Nash, Carmelo Anthony.
Cut on-ball players, kept builds like mine.
Finalists: Ray Allen, Kyle Korver.
Korver matched my frame closest, form felt right—plus off-ball specialist.
No dribble reliance. Like my soccer path.
Sure, this life I'd sworn off that route, but Harden, Iverson, Kobe? No spark.
Even if I picked up on-ball, I wouldn't hold for 10+ seconds to shoot. Gut feeling.
Anyway.
I saved Korver shooting vids and pics to my laptop, then phone—for training reference.
'Defense role model next...'
Easy.
Original owner of my shoes: Kevin Garnett.
'Heard the name, but damn, what a player.'
Virgil van Dijk level in soccer terms.
'Good. Now overall playstyle.'
Most crucial—defines identity.
LeBron, KD: too elite to ape lightly.
'Who then...'
One clicked instantly.
'Vince Carter!'
High-flying too, but something resonated.
Simple, fast, powerful.
Elite post-ups too—perfect for my back-to-basket dreams.
No overthinking. Locked in.
Shooting: Kyle Korver. Defense: Kevin Garnett. Style: Vince Carter.
'Train benchmarking them now.'
Built on intense fundamentals, of course.
Sacrificing class time, I built my training notes.
Tap tap! Someone poked my shoulder.
"...?"
A guy from class.
"Huh? What?"
"They want you outside."
He nodded toward the door.
"...Oh. Got it, thanks."
I figured who it was. What was coming, came.
I headed out.