"He told me my shooting still needs work, and that staying in the NAA for another year to refine my shot would be better for my personal development," Westbrook said, repeating Coach Prosser's words.
Yang Shuai nodded. Prosser hadn't spun some pie-in-the-sky promise about contending for a March Madness championship; he was genuinely thinking about Westbrook's future.
Yang Shuai gestured for Westbrook to sit down. "What are your thoughts?"
"I want to make the jump to the NBA early, but part of me also wants to stay in school. We'd have a shot at going deeper—maybe even breaking school records." A hint of frustration lingered in Westbrook's voice.
Yang Shuai understood completely. It wasn't merely competitive pride; more importantly, college was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. The memoirs of countless NBA stars were filled with wistful regrets about what they had left unfinished as student-athletes.
After listening intently, Yang Shuai shook his head. "If it's just about chasing records, I don't think it's worth it. March Madness has too many variables. If you come back next year and still don't break the record, or get knocked out even earlier, would you stay for yet another year?"
Westbrook was driven by emotion, but Yang Shuai operated on logic. "Russell, success is an accident that comes after hard work, but regret is just the norm of life."
Westbrook looked thoughtful, though hesitation remained. "What about what Coach Prosser said?"
"He's right," Yang Shuai agreed. Westbrook had put up great numbers this season, but his shooting flaws were equally apparent. That was the primary reason his draft projection sat in the lottery rather than among the top five picks. Shifting gears, Yang Shuai added, "However, shooting is something that takes time to bear fruit, and once you get to the NBA, you'll receive far more specialized training."
For some players, staying in the NAA offered better development because the NBA came with myriad distractions that ate into practice hours. On top of that, competition was cutthroat; anyone who fell behind risked being washed out. But none of that would be an issue for Westbrook.
"All you need to worry about is your draft stock. If you're confident in your pre-draft workouts, there's no reason to waste another year in the NAA," Yang Shuai concluded, offering the exact same advice he had given before.
Had this been right after his transmigration, Yang Shuai might not have spoken with such conviction, knowing how heavily player growth depended on environment. But this past season in the NAA had proven that the exceptional talents of Curry and Westbrook transcended their surroundings.
With their March Madness run at an end, Wake Forest boarded a flight back to Winston-Salem the very next day.
Their season was over, leaving behind a long summer where many on the team, like Westbrook, had to weigh their futures.
Right after stepping onto the plane, Prosser waved Yang Shuai over to the seat beside him. Tapping his nose, the coach said, "Stay on next season as my lead assistant."
Yang Shuai froze in surprise.
Cole had mentioned earlier that Prosser wanted him on staff, but he never expected an outright offer to become the lead assistant!
This wasn't simply a matter of Vincent leaving and freeing up an open slot. Prosser had four other assistant coaches on staff, all of whom were biding their time for that very promotion.
Such a move was bound to breed discontent among the staff, yet Prosser was willing to push forward regardless, demonstrating just how highly he valued Yang Shuai.
Or perhaps he had caught wind of Yang Shuai's intentions to head to the NBA and wanted to sweeten the pot.
Had Yang Shuai not been a transmigrator, he might have been genuinely tempted. After all, brilliant horses were common, but talent-spotting patrons like Bole were rare. He might truly have made a name for himself along the coaching track.
Yet once Yang Shuai set his sights on a goal, he wouldn't easily waver. More crucially...
"Coach, I'm not qualified for that role," Yang Shuai said, meeting Prosser's eyes with utter sincerity.
A person needed self-awareness, and Yang Shuai had a lucid grasp of his own coaching ability. Aside from true coaching prodigies, the profession demanded years of accumulated experience. His apparent genius was merely borrowed from his transmigrator foreknowledge. If he were actually tasked with running the show as a coach, the hurdles would be overwhelming.
"Don't worry about that. Nobody is born knowing everything. I'm confident you'll grow into it quickly," Prosser pressed on, eager to keep him.
Seeing that polite deflections wouldn't work, Yang Shuai laid his cards on the table. "Coach, I honestly think I'm better suited to being a scout. I'm planning to try my luck in the NBA."
Prosser smiled wryly. Desperately as he wished to retain Yang Shuai, he knew forced partnerships never bore sweet fruit. Still, he left him with a promise: "If you ever change your mind, there's always a place for you here."
"Thank you, Coach," Yang Shuai said from the bottom of his heart, genuinely touched by the safety net.
With his intentions out in the open, Yang Shuai went on the offensive upon returning to Winston-Salem.
He contacted Ian Eagle for another exclusive interview, during which he disclosed his plans to transition to the NBA.
This deliberate probe produced swift results, and inquiries began trickling in from several franchises.
Most were scouting offers. Wake Forest had put together a triumphant season, and Yang Shuai's scouting acumen as the architect behind that success had earned widespread recognition across the NBA.
Two overtures, however, stood apart.
The first came from the Charlotte Bobcats, who, like the Cleveland Cavaliers before them, extended an offer to join their general manager's office.
That was hardly surprising. As the local North Carolina team, they had followed Yang Shuai far more closely than distant organizations, to say nothing of their ties with Hornets legend Dell Curry.
The other team only offered an interview, yet it caught Yang Shuai completely off guard—shocking him to his core.
The Houston Rockets had invited him to interview for their general manager position!
When Yang Shuai first heard the news from Ian Eagle, he assumed there had been a misunderstanding.
Yet the facts were indisputable. Carroll Dawson, the Rockets' storied general manager who had received an indefinite contract back in 2005, was preparing to retire at the end of the season, prompting a search for his successor.
Even knowing the background, Yang Shuai found it hard to believe. Even if the Rockets were hiring a new GM, why would they extend an interview to a kid fresh out of college?
He had no idea what Houston's true motives were, but an invitation like that was impossible to turn down.
Even if he didn't land the job, the experience alone would elevate his profile.
On April 17, Yang Shuai boarded a flight to Houston. The following morning, he headed to the Rockets' home arena: the Toyota Center.
To a transmigrator who had grown up watching the Yao-T-Mac era, the Toyota Center was arguably the most familiar NBA arena to any Chinese basketball fan.
Right by the entrance hung a massive, instantly recognizable poster.
Yao Ming and Tracy McGrady stood at the center with their arms crossed over their chests. Flanking them were Rafer Alston, Shane Battier, Juwan Howard, Chuck Hayes, Dikembe Mutombo, Luther Head, Bonzi Wells...
That single poster was enough to transport Yang Shuai straight back to the days of cutting class just to catch a game.
It was one of the personal reasons he had jumped at the interview. Who hadn't had a youth filled with fond memories, and whose youth didn't harbor a few lingering regrets?
When given the chance to personally right those regrets, who wouldn't want to take a shot?
Pulling his gaze away, Yang Shuai stepped into the Toyota Center with eager anticipation, only to hit an awkward snag when a security guard stopped him at the stairs to the second floor.
The NBA regular season had concluded, and the executive level was closed to the public.
It wasn't until Yang Shuai produced his official invitation letter that the guard, eyes wide with disbelief, finally let him through.
Yang Shuai couldn't blame him; he could barely believe he had been invited to interview for the Rockets' general manager position himself, let alone a building security guard.
The interview was being held in an office along the east side of the second floor.
This was Yang Shuai's first formal job interview since his original scouting tryout, though after rubbing shoulders at high-profile parties, he felt surprisingly calm.
Unlike his previous scouting interview, this one was strictly one-on-one, and the candidate pool was small.
Glancing around outside the room, Yang Shuai counted only six candidates in total, including himself. Among them sat an all-too-familiar face: Daryl Morey, the Rockets' current vice president of basketball operations.
In truth, another motive behind Yang Shuai's visit was the prospect of knocking Morey out of the running. Slim as those odds might be, what if he pulled it off?
As for the other candidates, Yang Shuai recognized none of them. While a general manager belonged to upper management, the role, like scouting, was largely conducted behind the scenes, making the faces hard to place for a transmigrator.
The interviews crawled along at a deliberate pace, with each candidate taking an hour or more.
By the time the morning sessions wrapped up, Yang Shuai still hadn't been called. Escorted by staff, he ate lunch inside the Toyota Center and waited patiently. Only after every other candidate had finished did his turn finally arrive.
Chapter 34