Chapter 20 I've Wanted to Hit You for a Long Time

When they reached their destination in Walnut Creek, Gan Guoyang got out of the car and threw up again.

His body was clearly not used to riding in cars, the slight bumps and gasoline smell made his stomach churn.

Gan Guohui patted Gan Guoyang on the back and handed him water, saying, "Cousin, how can you still get car sick?"

Gan Guoyang replied, "Nonsense, I've never been in a car back home. I can't stand the smell of gasoline...argh..."

Now that he had come to America, a country rolling on wheels, Gan Guoyang had to get used to riding in cars as soon as possible.

Cap Raven went out of his way to bring the two men to the sports center's registration booth, where they met Frank Alock, the founder of the summer camp.

In the San Francisco Area, working in basketball teaching activities, it was impossible not to know Cap Raven. Alock was somewhat surprised to see Raven personally show up.

Upon learning that Cap was bringing two Chinese youths to the training camp, Alock asked, "Chinese? Are they... your friends' children?"

Cap shook his head, saying, "No, they've recently made a name for themselves playing on the streets of San Francisco, especially the tall one; he's worth observing."

Cap was referring to Gan Guoyang, and Alock glanced at him, saying, "He's got a great physique, but if he wants to take the professional route, this might not be the best place for him."

Alock meant not that their summer camp wasn't professional, but that those who chose to attend such camps were mainly basketball enthusiasts.

In satellite cities around big cities like Walnut Creek, which are middle-class enclaves, most of the kids attending the camp were twelve or thirteen-year-old white middle-class children.

For these kids, basketball was more of a hobby than a career ambition, and none of them was planning on going pro.

The truly talented were at well-known basketball schools. In the summer, they would either attend improvement training camps held by retired pro players or play in amateur leagues for money. Who would come to a camp for white basketball youth?

Cap said, "This kid is special; he's from China. It seems he hasn't been playing basketball for long, but he's got talent. Anyway, please take good care of him. And if there's anything you need, just let me know."

Confronted with the favor Cap was handing out, Alock quickly said, "No problem. We always cherish basketball talent. We have a coach in our summer camp whose skill level is quite high. I'll ask him to give special guidance to this young man. However... he's having some personal difficulties and needs a coaching job to get back on his feet..."

Cap understood what Alock was implying and said, "I understand. I'll try to get him a coaching job interview, and I don't think it should be a problem if he's qualified."

"I really appreciate it. He was my assistant coach for basketball at University of Notre Dame, very talented... but, you know, talented people tend to be a little careless about life planning."

"Life is like that, never perfect," Cap said, looking over at Gan Guoyang, who was intently practicing his dribbling nearby. "I'm leaving this guy in your hands, Professor Alock. I trust in your professionalism."

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The Excel in Basketball summer camp provided food and accommodations; the training spanned ten days, which made the price of 150 US Dollars quite fair.

Gan Guoyang and his companion were arranged to stay in the student dormitory at Concord High School, eat in the school cafeteria, and train at the COPA Sports Center two blocks away.

On the 3rd they familiarized themselves with the surroundings, settled into their accommodations, called the restaurant to report their safety, and both fell asleep early with excitement.

On the 4th, they woke up at seven in the morning and arrived at the sports center by eight. By eight-thirty, the first training class began, with everyone on time.

Out of the twenty-something teenagers, Gan Guoyang and Gan Guohui were not the only Asians; with them included, there were five yellow faces.

However, there wasn't a single black face among them—no African American kids were participating in this kind of summer camp.

Gan Guoyang stood out in the crowd with his height, as most kids were under six feet tall, and some looked like they had just begun puberty, as frail as bean sprouts.

Before the coach came to start the warm-up, Gan Guoyang amazed the kids with a few glide dunks, leaving them gaping, wondering if this was really someone who'd be training with them?

Frank Alock and Bobby Beelman, wearing white sports POLO shirts and shorts, arrived at the gym just in time to see Gan Guoyang perform his one-armed glide dunk.

Alock said to Beelman, "Bobby, that's the kid. The one Cap wants us to look after. He's all yours."

"Sunny-Gump, not bad, he does have some background. No wonder he's so cocky," Bobby remarked.

"Cocky? Did you know him before?" Alock asked.

"Oh no, nothing like that. Just a feeling," Bobby replied.

Beelman took out his whistle and blew it hard. The piercing sound filled the gym, and everyone turned their heads to look in his direction.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Your basketball summer camp has started. I'm giving you motherfuckers 10 seconds to line up on this line, or be prepared to run shuttles 20 times!" Beelman's shout was even more jarring than his whistle, and he began counting down "10, 9, 8..." Everyone immediately scrambled to line up.

Alock said, "Bobby, it's a youth summer camp; you really don't have to be so... so strict."

"3, 2, 1... See, they've lined up. The younger the kids, the more they need strict discipline, like herding animals," Bobby countered.

"But that could lead to complaints from the parents, be a bit gentler, Bobby." Alock replied.

"This is already the gentlest me... Fine, you explain the training content to them," Bobby conceded.

Alock gave the summer campers an opening speech about the schedule, including time, training curriculum, extracurricular activities, and details on food and accommodations.

The ten-day summer camp curriculum included shooting, dribbling, rebounding, positioning, defense, passing, offensive moves, 3v3, speed and agility, and full-court 5v5 competitions.

"Today is the first day of the camp, and the topic is shooting. We'll start with a 15-minute theory class, and then we'll get into practice."

The first lesson was the most basic shooting class, and Gan Guoyang did not become complacent because of his precise shooting, ignoring the coach's explanation.

On the contrary, he was very humble, listening to the 15-minute theory lesson with exceptional seriousness, and then he started to dominate on the practical course...

When the practical class was halfway through, Alok, with his hands on his hips, watched Gan Guoyang and asked Beelman, "Has the kid missed any shots?"

"Two."

"He only missed two shots?"

"Two of the balls grazed the rim."

"... this guy really isn't quite right for our summer camp, but he listens and practices very diligently. We really should give him some more professional training."

"Leave it to me, he's an interesting guy. I hope he's not just an empty shell."

The training lasted from eight-thirty until two-thirty in the afternoon, with an hour and a half for lunch and rest at midday.

After the training ended at two-thirty, the members could engage in free activities, either staying in the gym to continue training or participating in other interesting programs at the summer camp.

Gan Guoyang was not interested in anything else and, full of energy, continued to stay in the gym to practice shooting. He had learned quite a lot from today's classes.

Despite his innate talent for shooting, the skill of shooting is about constant improvement and is never-ending, with no one able to achieve perfection, only to continuously approach it.

The gym gradually emptied until he was the only one left, even Gan Guohui had left, going to play video games with new friends he made, as the summer camp activity center had a Pac-Man arcade machine.

The court was drenched with Gan Guoyang's sweat as he repeatedly took shots, to form the deepest muscle memory.

Beelman appeared under the basket like a ghost, startling Gan Guoyang, who stopped his movements and looked at Beelman, saying, "Are you here to help me pick up the balls? If you are, I can practice more efficiently."

"No, I'm here to create some obstacles for you. Shooting against thin air, is your future dream to play on a shooting machine?"

Beelman was about 185 cm tall, which wouldn't make much of a difference defensively one-on-one against Gan Guoyang.

However, when Beelman pulled out a foam board over one meter long from behind his back, Gan Guoyang knew things wouldn't be so simple.

For the next few days, every time the training class ended, Beelman would stay in the gym with Gan Guoyang for extra practice, giving him special attention.

The two people who had exchanged biting words over the phone had both changed their opinions of each other.

Beelman initially thought Gan Guoyang was a delusional teenager who did not understand the world, but after a few days of training, he recognized the overflowing talent in Gan Guoyang and his passion for basketball.

And from Beelman, Gan Guoyang received quite professional guidance. The guy was practically a basketball encyclopedia; he knew every technical detail, every tactical point, crystal clear, and always managed to come up with new tricks to help Gan Guoyang practice.

Of course, his mouth was always foul, constantly attacking the trainees' personas.

Gan Guoyang spent 150 US Dollars and got a basketball private coach worth 1000 US Dollars thrown in, plus a crash course in swearing.

What surprised him was why such an excellent all-around coach was holed up in a small-town summer camp in California as an assistant.

On the ninth day of the training, the second-to-last day, after the speed and agility course ended, Beelman did not show up in the gym.

Gan Guoyang completed the extra training by himself but didn't practice for too long. Without Beelman there hollering and making snide comments, he felt somewhat unaccustomed.

On his way back to the dorm, however, he saw Beelman, reeking of alcohol, passed out in the stairwell, talking nonsense and even asking Gan Guoyang if he wanted a drink.

It turned out he had gone drinking and was completely drunk.

Without a word, Gan Guoyang hoisted Beelman onto his shoulders and took him back to the dorm.

All the way, Beelman kept cursing, "Put me down! You little devil!"

"Have you gone mad? You idiot... I'm going to twist your head off and use it as a chamber pot!"

"You little beast, you freak!"

Gan Guoyang slapped him across the face, and he went quiet.

The next morning, Beelman knocked on Gan Guoyang's dorm room door and said, "I'm sorry, I lost my composure yesterday."

"No problem, I enjoyed that slap, I've wanted to hit you for a long time."

"... I can't accompany you in extra practice today, I have to go for a job interview for a high school coach position."

"Wow, congratulations Mr. Beelman, your basketball career is taking a major leap forward."

"Hey, Gan, you haven't joined a high school team yet, have you? If I get the job, would you be willing to join my team?"

"I don't want to."

"Why?"

"I want to save my talent for Chinatown."