Competition

Wake Forest had missed out on the conference tournament, which made their final regular-season game on March 1 against the University of North Carolina the closing act of their season. Yang Shuai had arranged Stephen Curry and Russell Westbrook's official visit for the morning of game day. Prosser and Cole were both at the coliseum doors to greet them, pulling out all the stops. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, the group entered Veterans Memorial Coliseum. Their first stop was the team's Hall of Fame room, where a century of Demon Deacons history was distilled onto four walls of honors. The two lingered for a long while in front of Duncan's and Paul's jerseys. "Someday, your jerseys will hang here too." Yang Shuai's words filled both of their eyes with longing. From the Hall of Fame room, Yang Shuai led the group to the locker room. There, he opened two temporary locker stalls bearing nameplates for Curry and Westbrook, took five custom jerseys in different colors out of each, and had them pick one apiece for their photo shoot. Both found the arrangement novel and thrilling. They had visited other schools before, but this was the first time they had experienced anything like it. Hit with a sudden case of decision paralysis, they found themselves talking it over with each other without even meaning to. By the time they were posing for their photo shoot, Cole and Prosser were chatting and laughing off to the side, clearly delighted with the arrangement. It was a small thing, but it went a long way toward building a player's sense of belonging. To make sure nothing went wrong in this final, decisive step, Yang Shuai had spared no effort. When the photo shoot was done, Yang Shuai led them into the main arena. The Demon Deacons were training inside, and Curry's and Westbrook's eyes were drawn over at once. Even Curry, who had visited before, had only seen a limited amount of the training that was open to outsiders during his tryout. They quickly found a spot and settled in at courtside, watching and trading comments as they did. Seeing the two of them so absorbed in conversation, Yang Shuai let out a long breath of relief. As a rule, players made their official visits separately. He had deliberately arranged for the two to come together, chiefly so they could get to know each other ahead of time. The sooner they grew familiar and built chemistry, the better the team's chances of success. "Hey, Chef! It's you!" During a break in the workout, a player called out toward Curry with a grin. Curry looked up at the sound and pointed at himself, a little puzzled. The player nodded, then raised his hands in a three-point shooting motion. Though Curry wanted to say his name wasn't Chef, he was too polite not to smile and wave back. The player grinned and turned back to his workout. "Michael Drum, the team's starting small forward." Yang Shuai came over, sat down beside the two of them, and filled them in. Curry's eyes went wide with surprise. The teammates he'd had during his tryout had all been bench players — he'd never imagined a starter would remember him too. But he soon discovered Drum wasn't the only one. As the workout went on, one player after another greeted him, and every one of them called him Chef. "Looks like you're already a celebrity around here." Yang Shuai was all smiles. Curry's last tryout had apparently gone over even better than he'd expected. As for why they called Curry Chef — most likely "Stephen," said quickly, blurred into "Chef," and "Chef" was a great deal easier to remember than "Stephen." Finding himself a Chef out of nowhere, Curry didn't know whether to laugh or cry. But beside him, Westbrook's fist had clenched without his even noticing. Before long, someone came in through the arena doors. Davis Jones — the Black interviewer with the black-framed glasses, the one who had run the scouting interview back then. Jones's gaze swept toward Curry and Westbrook, his brow creasing slightly. Then he turned, all smiles, and walked over to Cole and Prosser. Half an hour later the workout came to an end, and Yang Shuai was about to call Curry and Westbrook to head out. That wrapped up the first stage of the official visit. Next would be lunch at the school cafeteria, then the second stage of the itinerary in the afternoon. But just then, Justin Gray came walking over. "We're playing full court. Want in?" Gray extended the invitation to Curry and Westbrook. Curry turned to look at Yang Shuai. This wasn't part of the original visit plan, and Yang Shuai was about to politely decline on their behalf. "Sure!" But to his surprise, Westbrook was already on his feet, accepting on the spot. "Chef, what about you?" Gray turned to Curry. Seeing that Westbrook had already agreed, Curry nodded and stood up too. With both of them having said yes, a refusal from Yang Shuai now would have looked like he had no faith in them. Besides, he genuinely wanted to see what kind of sparks Curry and Westbrook could strike on a court. Prosser and Cole had been about to leave, but at the sight they came over and sat down near Yang Shuai, and Jones settled in alongside them. By then the teams had been split. Curry and Westbrook were on the same side, along with Drum and two other starters. Gray's side, aside from him and the team's starting power forward Eric Williams, was made up entirely of bench players. On paper the split looked even, but Yang Shuai still sensed something off about it. The Demon Deacons' two best players: one was Gray, a six-two combo guard; the other was Williams, a six-nine, 280-pound big man who could swing across the frontcourt and was averaging 16.3 points and 8.9 rebounds a game this season. Gray pushed the ball up the court, and Westbrook immediately clamped onto him with tight man-to-man defense. From the moment he had stood up — or earlier still, from the moment he saw the Demon Deacons players greeting Curry again and again — his competitive fire had been burning at full blast. It wasn't jealousy. It was the instinct to compete, carved into his bones. But Gray didn't try to beat him one-on-one. He turned sideways to shield the ball, and once Williams had staked out his spot on the low block, he fed the ball inside. Williams's build was massive, and Westbrook glanced back to weigh whether he should help on defense. In that very instant, Gray exploded past on the other side. Williams quickly slipped the ball to Gray slashing through the middle, and Gray drove to the edge of the paint and finished with a floater. The NAA prized individual ability, and isolation play was the norm — but it prized tactics and teamwork even more. In that one possession, Gray had given Westbrook a lesson. When possession changed hands, Gray pressed the ball-handling Curry in just the same way. Once he had forced Curry to turn sideways to protect the ball, a teammate on the weak side took advantage of Curry's blind spot and completed the steal from behind. Gray took a teammate's assist on the fast break for two more points — four straight to open the game. The same defensive approach, yet utterly different results. The root of it was simply that one side fought as individuals, while the other fought as a team. Curry and Westbrook had never played together before, nor with anyone else on the Demon Deacons. Lacking chemistry with each other, they could hardly produce any team play. The game had been unfair from the very start — it was plainly meant to put the two newcomers in their place. Yang Shuai leaned over and glanced that way just then, and saw Jones looking straight toward his side. Their eyes met, and Jones let slip a meaningful smile. Jones was the regional scout for the East Coast, once Cole's most trusted scout — Gray and Williams were both players he had recruited back in the day. But now, he only ranked second. So this display wasn't aimed just at Curry and Westbrook. It was aimed at Yang Shuai even more. After all, Curry and Westbrook had made no formal commitments to join. If something unpleasant — even humiliating — happened during their visit, they might well change their minds in the end. Yang Shuai hadn't expected the final, decisive step to hit a snag like this, but he only smiled. Jones had sat on it all this time before finally making his move, and had even played on Curry's and Westbrook's competitive pride — he was quite the operator. The pity was that Jones had no idea who the two players he had chosen really were. On the court, Gray kept hounding Curry with dogged defense. Curry gave the ball to Drum and began running off the ball toward the three-point line. But knowing how lethal Curry's three-point shooting was, Gray and his teammates flatly refused to give him any opening to receive a pass. Just as they poured their defensive attention onto Curry, though, a figure suddenly accelerated out of the flank, shedding its defender and slashing in. Drum seized the opening and fired a bounce pass. Westbrook hauled it in, charged into the paint in huge strides, and launched himself into the air. Williams reacted instantly and rotated over to help. His massive frame was like a mountain — but Westbrook showed not the slightest intention of dodging. He collided hard with Williams in midair, his body knocked off balance by the impact — yet just before that, he had already slammed the ball toward the rim. Boom! The ball was stuffed through the hoop, and a huge, muffled boom rolled around the arena. Everyone present stared, dumbstruck. Yang Shuai shot up from his seat as well. But it wasn't Westbrook's dunk that had put him there — he was afraid Westbrook had been hurt. Yet before he was even fully up, Westbrook had already flipped himself off the floor in one violent spring, then turned to the sideline pounding his chest and roaring. The once-silent arena was instantly filled with cheers. Williams stared wide-eyed, chest heaving — this guy was a freaking madman!