The Perfect Debut

The game was slowly but surely tilting in Atlanta's favor.

Atlanta's players were sharing the shots evenly and piling up points.

Jeff Teague had 11 points. Al Horford had 9. DeMarre Carroll had 8. Paul Millsap had 13. The bench's second unit chipped in 11 more, for a total of 52 points from everyone except one player.

This was Atlanta's identity.

A team with no true first option, yet six players who had averaged double figures last season.

But today something was different.

Even though the shot attempts were distributed fairly evenly, one player was scoring at an exceptional rate.

Seo-jun was ending plays with cuts all night. He was toying with DeRozan.

In truth, given DeRozan's defensive ability, Seo-jun wouldn't have had an easy time in a pure one-on-one battle. If they had simply faced off iso, it would have been a toss-up or perhaps DeRozan would have held the edge depending on his shooting touch.

But today, Seo-jun never once tried to beat DeRozan in a pure one-on-one.

He simply ran hard, showed constant cutting movement, and took full advantage of Al Horford's well-timed screens to dismantle DeRozan. DeRozan was a player praised for his individual defense but still considered lacking in team defense.

Seo-jun hadn't planned it that way, but the result struck right at DeRozan's weakness.

"Screen!"

"Don't get caught on it!"

Despite Lowry's desperate shout, DeRozan still got caught on Horford's off-ball screen. The sound of Seo-jun blowing past echoed as DeRozan lost him again. His composure had crumbled.

The reason was none other than Seo-jun's stat line.

Seo-jun slipped through, took Jeff Teague's pass, and finished. That bucket gave him 25 points.

Twenty-five points wasn't rare in the NBA, but the details of how he got there were.

In baseball, the term "perfect game" refers to a pitcher allowing no baserunners at all. Seo-jun's stat line brought that phrase to mind.

A completely unblemished record.

Going 10-for-10 from the field was already a historic first for a rookie debut.

"Hah... Haha..."

Robert, the assistant general manager watching the game, let out a helpless chuckle.

He's playing like the first option on a team that doesn't even have one, and he's doing it purely through efficiency?

No matter how you looked at it, this was abnormal. It couldn't be dismissed as mere luck.

Robert sensed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this was inevitable. The current team scheme fit Seo-jun like a perfectly tailored suit.

He glanced sideways at Coach Budenholzer. The coach was nodding with deep satisfaction.

Of course. Of course this kid was the exact missing piece our team needed as a first option.

Budenholzer had spent sixteen seasons learning under Coach Popovich and developing his own system. Yet he had always felt something was missing—two percent, perhaps.

Many praised his scheme precisely because it had no single first option, but what he truly wanted was a first-option player who could elevate the system.

Just as Popovich's San Antonio had Tim Duncan despite all the talk of perfect team basketball.

Budenholzer had been searching for the right first-option piece for Atlanta. The conditions were strict, however. The player had to be able to elevate their big man, Al Horford.

But no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't find one. Typical star players would simply swallow Horford's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠role whole. If someone like James Harden arrived, Horford's usage would shrink dramatically.

What I needed was a swingman with high defensive IQ, excellent understanding of big-man movement, good court vision, and solid ball-handling.

Someone different from LeBron James. LeBron was a player who built the offense around himself, so he wouldn't mesh with Budenholzer's core philosophy.

It was an extremely rare profile. Then Seo-jun appeared in his vision.

Watching Mega Vizura games, Budenholzer had become certain. Seo-jun possessed outstanding court vision that let him read the flow on both ends, and his chemistry with big men was fantastic.

That was exactly what was unfolding now.

It fits perfectly!

In a surge of thrill, Budenholzer unconsciously pumped his fist. He now held absolute conviction.

Barring Cleveland, no team in the Eastern Conference could stop them.

The score had stretched to an 18-point lead and the arena had gone quiet. Fans were streaming up the stairs and out of the building. On the Toronto bench, white flags had been raised; garbage-time players were warming up.

I still haven't cooled down yet...

If it were up to me, I wanted to keep pouring it on even more intensely. All the constant cutting had left some pent-up aggression coiled inside me.

But Coach Budenholzer was a strict rotation guy. Unless the game went to overtime, starters were capped at thirty-three minutes.

My current playing time was 29:14. There were about four minutes left, but if Toronto had truly surrendered, he would pull me even if it meant falling short of thirty-three minutes. If we scored on this possession, Toronto would almost certainly call timeout and make changes.

Let's make one more before I go.

My current stat line was 12-for-12 from the field for 29 points. I wasn't obsessed with personal records, but the symbolic weight of a 30-point debut was something I wanted to carry out of here.

"Jeff! I'll take this one."

Teague raised an eyebrow.

"You sure? You finish like this and you're shooting 100%. Wouldn't it be smarter to walk away with a perfect night instead of risking a blemish?"

Keep the perfect field-goal percentage or get the 30 points?

The answer was obvious. Both.

"I'll still take it."

"Alright. Isolation?"

"Yes."

Teague set it up quickly. He pushed the other players to the right corner while I drifted to the left elbow. I sealed DeRozan with my back and received the pass.

DeRozan clenched his teeth so hard I could hear it. He had clearly read my intent.

He's definitely a tough opponent.

A one-on-one against someone of similar size. My ball-handling skill was still lacking, so beating him off the dribble in a pure face-up wasn't easy.

One day I'll be able to...

One day I would be able to face up like DeRozan or Durant, using dribble moves to cook same-position defenders before pulling up or dunking. Until then, I had to rely on post-ups.

I pounded the ball and backed him down with the same rhythm. DeRozan didn't fight it with brute strength. He must have assumed I would eventually drive, because he stayed loose, ready to react to a face-up or spin move.

Smart.

I could have kept backing him to the rim, but then Valanciunas would come with help.

Perfect.

If he was keyed in on the drive, I could use that against him.

I dribbled left, then crossed over hard to flip the angle. I spun around DeRozan's right side.

DeRozan reacted fast, sliding his body into my driving lane. He had already taken a half-step back in anticipation of the drive.

But.

I planted, took one hard dribble, and stepped back.

The space between us opened up.

"Ugh...!"

"...!"

A smooth mid-range pull-up jumper.

The exact play DeRozan himself was best at.

This was the ultimate humiliation that completely crushed the "Welcome to the NBA" he had thrown at me.

Go in!

DeRozan's desperate outstretched hand didn't bother me. The ball flew on a low arc, clanged off the rim, spun in and out... and then dropped cleanly through the net.

"Yes!"

"Come on, kid! Come on!"

"Everything's falling today, huh?!"

My teammates roared in celebration.

The whistle blew. With the lead at 20, Toronto immediately called timeout and officially surrendered. Even more fans headed for the exits, cursing as they left the Toronto bench behind.

I hadn't been able to play my favorite style, but it was still a stat line that showed perfect execution of the team scheme.

Lee Seo-jun's shocking NBA regular-season debut sent massive shockwaves through Korean sports communities. The frenzy was so intense that several major sites crashed temporarily.

The explosive performance of a Korean player in the NBA was bound to create a storm. This wasn't just sports news—it was national headline territory. SBC, which had acquired the Korean broadcast rights, was screaming with joy as viewership records shattered and the value of their rights skyrocketed. At the same time, Seo-jun's own market value doubled again.

While Korea was burning with excitement, the reaction in the United States was colder and more analytical. On America's giant community site Reddit, the phrase "steal of the draft" kept appearing in threads about Seo-jun's performance.

This was partly because Andrew Wiggins, who had played around the same time, managed only 6 points in 18 minutes. Jabari Parker, the second pick, scored 8 points in 36 minutes. Third pick Joel Embiid was already out for the season with injury. The rest of the top picks from 4 to 8 had shown little except for Marcus Smart.

Right after the game ended, the betting odds went crazy. Seo-jun's Rookie of the Year odds had been around +500, sitting in the middle of the pack. The moment the game finished they dropped to -100 and took the top spot. He was now also listed in the top tiers for All-Rookie Second Team, First Team, and even All-NBA Third Team.

While the outside noise continued to boil, the MVP of the game—Lee Seo-jun—stepped up for his on-court interview.

.

.

.

After shaking hands with my teammates and celebrating the win, the broadcast camera and interviewer approached.

"First of all, I'm happy we won. I was satisfied with how I played too."

"Of course it wasn't. The pace is fast and the physicality is intense. But I never felt lost. Coach Budenholzer's system gives us perfect guidance on what we should do and when. Once I just followed that, we were suddenly up by 15 in the fourth quarter."

This was what they called workplace politics. I had done the same during my soccer days, but praising the coach was world-class level.

If he heard this he'd probably smile like a proud dad. Where is he anyway?

I glanced around for Coach Budenholzer, but he had already disappeared into the locker room.

"Haha, after watching today's game you're still asking that? Are you trying to encourage me to raise my goal to Second Team or First Team?"

"I'm the same way. For now, I'm focused on reaching the Third Team. After playing today, it feels like some players got angry when I said I'd make it. I think the priority is to prove myself by competing against those players first."

"I'll have to pass on sharing the exact details. But there is one thing I want to say. If you're going to talk trash, don't regret it later. It's fine if you want to say 'Welcome to the NBA,' but you should also consider that it might light a fire under me, and that you could be the one who ends up getting burned."

"Thank you."

As I headed toward the tunnel leading to the locker room, I heard boos from Toronto fans. Even so, there were still voices of support.

"Seo-jun! You were the best today!"

"Can I get an autograph?!"

They were Korean fans living in Toronto. They reached out from the railing asking for signatures, so I signed as many as I could before returning to the locker room.

The atmosphere in the locker room had changed dramatically from before. The bench players who had once been wary of me had finally accepted reality.

Dennis Schröder avoided eye contact and looked away. DeMarre Carroll sat with a complicated expression, fiddling with his phone. The rest of the players offered high-fives, telling me it was a great game. The starters in particular were buzzing with excitement.

"Miami isn't our rival anymore! Cleveland still hasn't found their perfect chemistry! This is our time!"

Jeff Teague was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠practically singing Atlanta's victory anthem, chest puffed out with pride.

I sat on the locker room chair, wiped away sweat, and took off my dirty socks. I had given my shoes to a fan earlier.

Can I shower first?

In the NBA the main interviews happened in the locker room. I still didn't know exactly when they started or whether it was okay to shower first.

Al Horford must have noticed my uncertainty. He walked over.

"You did the on-court interview so you got here late. The cooling-off period will end soon and the reporters will come in. It's better to finish the interviews first and then shower. Once you become a superstar you can make the media wait, but you're still a rookie."

"Thanks. I'll do that."

Only after finishing the locker-room interviews was I finally able to shower. Ten minutes later, Coach Budenholzer led a team meeting, after which we would board the plane straight back to Atlanta.

Right before the meeting started, Paul Millsap approached.

"Hey, kid."

He sat in the empty chair next to me, saying he had something funny to show me, and held out his phone screen.

"Look at this. This!"

"What is it?"

"Just watch. It's seriously funny."

It was none other than Inside the NBA's post-game show.