1. AUDITION(2)

"!@#$!@"

"!#$#@!%"

After our first calendar day of the workout, the scout's grading is divided into 3 different sections.

First are the ones who leave immediately without even looking back.

David warned me to watch out for these individuals.

If they come back again tomorrow, that would mean there is a slight chance of interest. But if they don't return, it means they have given up.

Second are the ones who approach David with business cards.

"!#$@!$ not bad."

"He's not bad, but… !@#$!@#$"

Often these individuals are the ones who we'd assume are straightforward when it comes to their intentions of recruiting players, but, in fact, they may be dead ends.

Since NCAA's recruiting (the process of scouting a freshman) is done more secretively, these scouts would intentionally be straightforward in order to see a different team from a different perspective.

The easiest words for me to understand were "not bad".

That meant that my performance wasn't satisfactory.

"…"

Therefore, I naturally kept looking towards the people who stayed at their seats.

They were either busy on their phones, or busy using their tablets. These are the only guys that seem to be giving me some hope.

Amongst these is Bill Hauzer, who I briefly met earlier.

San Diego's college belongs in the West Coast Conference's Division 1 and can be said they aren't one of the strongest teams. The team has only played 4 times and doesn't really have any NBA highlights.

However, I'm always quick to accept reality.

This includes that fact that they are my best shot as well.

"Good work, Minhyuk. I'll take care of the rest from here."

"…"

What did I say?

The only thing I could do was sadly walk to the locker room, nodding my head to people. I gave my everything at the workout today, but I had no idea how everyone thought of me.

At this point, I was a little curious.

How good are these American players?

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Beverly Hills, California. De Neve Dr. Hitch Basketball Courts

David told me not to go outside after 8 PM.

It didn't really seem to be a dangerous area, but I was not in a situation where I can afford to be targeted. However, it was difficult for me to stay trapped in this motel room all day long.

I couldn't watch TV and, after fiddling with my phone for a while, my eyes began to hurt. Of course, it would have been better for me to spend time studying English, but I didn't have the motivation to do that right now.

It seems like I don't have a choice but to go outside.

Well, I know. I don't really have a good reason to go out too.

"…"

In order not to get lost, I decided to walk in a straight line for about 10 minutes.

A hill, across a gray building that seemed to be an apartment, was emitting a white light. I would usually just walk past it, but I also heard a noise that stopped me in my tracks.

"What should I do?"

David spent a lot of time on preparation for tomorrow's schedule. So, he probably wouldn't realize I have been gone this whole time too. I should have at least until 11 PM.

After making a decision on my own, I began to just follow my instincts.

["Hmmm… you may have to even consider Division 3."]

Like I've said, American College Basketball is divided into 15 different sections.

NCAA Division 1, 2 and 3.

Right below these are NAIA Division 1 and 2. It can be said that it's evenly distributed up to this point. As for the rest of the 6 divisions, the skill level is very similar. That being said, the skill gap is very wide compared to NAIA 2.

NCCAA 1 and 2, NJCAA 1, 2 and 3, CCCAA, USCAA, NWAACC and ACCA are independent teams. Of course, these independent teams are the weakest divisions.

"Hey!"

"I'm going! I'm going!"

"Switch! Switch!"

Wow. It was an amazing basketball court.

Clean floors, sharp lines and the net were in good condition. Most importantly, what seemed to shine brightly, was the fact that the court had no part of it to complain about.

Inside there were about 20 guys either playing a game or watching a tournament going on. What skill level are these guys at? It might just be street basketball, it's America's first 5:5 match.

Therefore, I tried my best to focus on every single move.

But still, how great can street basketball be?

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"…"

Damn, this is shit.

As a few minutes passed by, a thought entered into my head.

If I had my high school team here and matched up against these guys, I wonder who would win? I'm definitely sure that we'd win. However, it would still be honorable.

But if I was asked if I'm 100% sure of a victory, I would have to say no.

That's because they were playing really good basketball.

"(Hey, Ronny! Look at that guy over there!)"

Amongst these were a few guys that stood out to me.

For example, there was a guard wearing a gray hoodie.

He did a good job screening, and his shooting and offensive skills seemed to be better than a high school leveled player.

Actually, he could even be better than a college player. His crossovers were very agile and can juke almost anyone.

"(I got a feeling we could hustle him…)"

"(I think he might know what he's doing?)"

Wait, what? Are they talking about me?

As I came back to reality, I noticed the game came to a halt and everyone was looking in my direction. I look around to see if there was anyone else, but there was just me.

The shortest player who appeared to be looking over a fence walked towards me.

Am I supposed to walk away?

"Hey, wassup?"

"…"

It seemed too late for me to do that.

At this point, he was right in front of me and began talking again.

"Dude! I said hey, wassup?"

"Uhh… hello?"

"(Hey Ronny, I don't think he speaks English!)"

"(Even better. Try persuading him, Little B.)"

For some reason, I became a little irritated.

I don't know exactly what they were saying to each other, but it felt like they were looking down on me. I may be overthinking things. Since I have no idea what they're saying, I may just be thinking negatively.

Again, the short guy started a conversation while fiddling with the basketball.

"DO. YOU. WANT. TO. PLAY. THE. GAME?"

"Oh… uh... huh?"

"BASKETBALL! PLAY! WITH. US. OKAY?"

I heard you. I understand. I was just a bit flustered.

Looking at my watch, it was a little past 8:30 PM. I should be fine if I get back by 10PM. I'm also curious about how I match up against these guys.

"Yes! I want to play a game!"

"(HAHA. Hey Ronny! He's down to play! Let him in!)"

As the short fellow made his way back, a bigger guy came wobbling down removing a chain and lock.

"(Come on in.)"

He's talking to me, right?

As I carefully walked in with my head held low, the air and atmosphere began to shift. I guess this is what street basketball is like.

"(Doesn't he need to warm up?)"

"Huh?"

"DON'T YOU NEED WARMUP?"

Oh…

"It's okay. I can play now."

"Cool."

"…WHAT THE?"

Out of nowhere, the big guy pushed me onto the court.

The other guys who were hanging around tossed me a ball and begun talking amongst themselves. Are we playing a 5:5 match just like that?

"200 Dollars."

"Yeah? I mean, what?"

"(I said 200 dollars, you damn Asian.)"

The guy with the most attitude used his two index fingers and stretches his eyelids to make his eyes smaller.

"This son of a bitch..."

He didn't try to taunt me anymore. Just being bad mannered.

By the way, did he just say 200 dollars?

"(If he doesn't have money just use his watch!)"

When he motioned towards my wrist, I understood what was going on. Its either 200 dollars or my watch.

So, this is a betting game, huh?

"This is a betting game?"

"WHAT?"

Am I not pronouncing it right, or am I saying the wrong thing?

It seemed like he didn't understand what I was saying, but that didn't matter. The guy challenged me and thinks I am an opponent he can face.

I also wasn't planning on rolling over and looking like a weakling.

"Alright, you bastard. Let's go."

As I tossed the ball towards the guy, he assumed I accepted the bet. So, is this a 1:1?

"(One on one.)"

This guy couldn't be any taller than 180cm.

A guy that's 20cm shorter than me wants to 1:1? On top of that, a simple street player?

I was extremely motivated to win this one.

"(Alright, let's start this game.)"

*Swish... swish...*

"(Kick that Asian dude's ass, Ronny!)"

"(Shred him into pieces!)"

Assholes…

I think I would feel a little better if I knew what they were all saying.

"Oh?"

"…"

He seemed to be a very aggressive player.

As if he was going to throw the ball right at me, he stretched his right leg far and faked to the left. He casually dribbled, took a step and made a shot.

"1:0. Too easy man!"

"I was distracted for a second."

"What?"

"I said I was distracted, you asshole. I'm gonna shove this ball in your forehead so be ready." I answered in Korean.

It felt nice to talk trash and smile at the same time.

Yeah. I was just distracted for a second. Now I won't go easy.

"Huh?"

"…"

This time, instead of taking the step as he did earlier, he shot directly from where he was standing. As the ball touched the net, once again, he started talking with his annoying arrogant voice.

Damn...