The Golden Age of Basketball-Chapter 196 - 87 15 Minutes

Gan Guoyang enjoyed Los Angeles where, even in winter, it remained warm and often rainy, unlike the cold and dry discomfort of the north.

More importantly, Gan Guoyang always managed to secure victory in Los Angeles—after all, he was the King of California. Every time he stepped onto this land, his desire to win became extremely intense.

On the 31st at noon, the whole team checked into the Sheraton Hotel in Inglewood, Los Angeles. In the afternoon, the team conducted a simple shooting practice, and in the evening, the Trail Blazers held a modest New Year’s celebration in the hotel’s buffet restaurant.

had passed, and 1985 had arrived.

For Gan Guoyang, for the NBA, for the world of basketball, 1984 was a very important year.

Gan Guoyang won the NCAA Championship and entered the NBA; the NBA garnered possibly the most important rookie class in its history, as well as the most significant commissioner.

American basketball began to show a new face, with more rules, tactics, and styles of play entering the courts, and new dribbling and shooting techniques emerging.

China and America were both making great strides forward socially, having shaken off the political and economic quagmires of the 70s and shining with the distinctive radiance of the 80s.

On the morning of the first day of the New Year, Gan Guoyang, as usual, got up early to jog and warm up on the asphalt roads near the hotel, awakening his body from sleep.

After running for an hour, Gan Guoyang went to The Forum. As was his routine, he swiped his face to enter the arena for the morning’s warm-up training. At home, he could go in the afternoon, but when away, he had to arrive earlier, otherwise the home team players would take up all the time.

Still, it was an hour and a half of shooting and hook shot warm-up practice, followed by running in the spacious aisles of the Memorial Coliseum stands, while contemplating tonight’s game.

This had become a pre-game habit for Gan Guoyang, holding a tactical meeting in his head, preparing himself tactically and psychologically.

Just like warfare, the regular season was a long war, and each regular season game was a battle.

Before every battle, Gan Guoyang would devise a basic plan before the game, and then, combined with the coach and teammates’ arrangements, decide on how to play the match.

For instance, on Christmas, when playing against the Rockets at home with an excellent historical track record and high team morale, against the away Rockets who were keen on winning and with an impatient Olajuwon, Gan Guoyang naturally focused on psychological warfare, provoking the young Twin Towers to the point of mental collapse, leading to their self-defeat without a fight.

But within a week when the Trail Blazers traveled to Houston to face the Rockets, the situation was completely different. The Trail Blazers were coming off a loss, the Rockets had regrouped, the Twin Towers had reconciled, morale was high, and they were determined to use home-court advantage to avenge their previous disgrace.

At such a time, if Gan Guoyang still tried to employ psychological tactics and trash-talk, it would be mere self-deception—Sampson and Olajuwon would no longer be affected.

In such a fierce battle, the only way to victory was a direct assault, the brave win when paths cross. Leading the team to gnaw through a tough bone and, of course, relying a bit on luck, they managed to win the game.

Gan Guoyang imagined in his mind that the New Year’s game against the Lakers would undoubtedly also be a fierce battle. It was the third matchup between the two sides, and with them vying for position as the top two in the Western Conference, the Lakers would certainly give it their all.

However, the Trail Blazers hadn’t been in great form recently. Though players like Valentine were gradually recovering from injuries, the Trail Blazers’ shooting percentage in December had declined several percentage points compared to November.

Vandeweghe, who had been incredibly accurate in November, lost his magic touch in December. His shooting percentage dropped from a terrifying 58% to 53%. Although it was still high, a lot of it was from fast-break points.

Jim Paxson, affected by an ankle injury, could still play, but his recent training time was noticeably reduced, which is fatal for a shooter.

That’s the life of an outside shooter—subject to many factors over a long season, their shooting form is prone to fluctuations.

At the start of the season, their energy is abundant, their touch honed by a summer’s training, and early season defenses are not as intense, allowing for some terrifying shooting percentages.

But as the season progresses, with increasing physical fatigue, continuous away games lacking the training to maintain touch, and intensifying game pressure and targeted defenses, the shooter’s percentages tend to fall.

Of course, the season is long, and there are opportunities to adjust by mid-to-late season. As long as they can regain top form before the playoffs, excellent shooters can still make an impact.

Recently, Gan Guoyang felt that his own shooting touch had declined, as the physical confrontations in games were too fierce. Against the Rockets, he barely took any mid-range shots.

The final shot, securing an offensive rebound and making a fadeaway jump shot for the game-winner, was largely due to luck because he just guessed on that shot—fortunately, it went in.

So recently, he was increasing his warm-up time before games, striving to tune his shooting touch to its best state, which is very important for the games.

After running in the corridor for quite a while and ruminating on many plans, Gan Guoyang still couldn’t come up with any solid countermeasures.

The Lakers were different from other teams, possessing absolute advantage in strength and talent, and with their recent form being outstanding, Pat Riley wouldn’t be easy to bluff.

"Looks like I’ll just have to be tough, then adjust to the game as it unfolds," he remarked.

Gan Guoyang stopped running and took a few breaths, feeling his body was warmed up enough, readying himself to shoot some more baskets.

Someone called out to him from below, "Sonny! There you go running circles and catching a breeze again. You always come so early!"

Recognizing the voice, Gan Guoyang knew it was Magic Johnson, also here for the morning’s warm-up training.

Today he had arrived a bit later than usual, no doubt having crawled out of some woman’s bed.

Accompanying Johnson were two others, Michael Cooper and Byron Scott, these two guys hit it off with Johnson and were his best buddies.

On the court, Cooper’s defense could cover for Johnson’s ass, while offensively, Byron Scott gradually took over Norm Nixon’s former position, helping Johnson organize and attack.

Off the court, they often ate together, watched movies, and went out to play—especially Byron Scott, who had just squeezed into Johnson’s inner circle of close friends, becoming one of Magic’s trusted lieutenants.

"Magic, why did you bring your two little sidekicks with you today? Why don’t you come up and enjoy the breeze? I’ll show you the beautiful scenery of The Forum."

"Forget it, this is my home court, and there’ll be plenty of time for you to enjoy the breeze during tonight’s game—if you can keep up."

In January and February, the Lakers’ performance usually picked up, and one important reason was that other teams were running out of steam.

At the start of the season, with their energy fully charged, they could keep up with the Lakers for a bit, but after entering the first fatigue period post-Christmas, most teams started to lag behind.

The Lakers didn’t even need targeted tactics; most of the time, they just ran on the court and could run their opponents to death—they really could run.

Not only because their players were exceptionally talented but also because Pat Riley’s training was notoriously tough, with high intensity, large volume, and fierce competition that almost matched the real games.

If Michael Jordan’s gameplay was about being one pace faster than everyone else, then the Lakers were an entire team moving at a pace faster than the other teams.

The Trail Blazers were among the few teams in the league that could keep up with the Lakers, with Ramsay’s training equally stringent, focusing on speed and combativeness.

"Playing against you guys is really boring; all you do is run around aimlessly. You should try out for the Olympic men’s 4x100-meter relay; maybe you could break the world record." Gan Guoyang shouted to them from the stands.

Johnson frowned and shook his head, "We do more than run, Ah Gan. Our shooting will also beat you! We have the league’s best shooter!"

As he spoke, Johnson pointed to Byron Scott, who was getting ready to warm up with some shots. Hearing Johnson’s words, Scott picked up the ball, stood outside the three-point line, shot it, and—swish—the ball went through the net, a perfect score.

In a season when the three-pointer was still not popular, Byron Scott was the league’s three-point king, with a 43% three-point shooting rate, which would also be quite high in the era of three-pointers.

The problem was that he took too few shots per game, less than one, only 0.7, but being able to maintain such a success rate was enough to show that he was an excellent shooter.

Gan Guoyang snorted and yelled, "A guy who doesn’t even make one three-pointer a game, what kind of shooter is that? I bet I’m more accurate than him, believe it or not?"

Byron Scott, who was usually low-key, got a bit hot-headed when he heard this and replied, "Why don’t we have a little contest? 20 US dollars, how about it, Ah Gan?"

Inside the Lakers, they often played a shooting game for 20 dollars apiece, with each person getting three chances to see who scored more.

The rules were three-pointers counted as three points, shots from out of bounds counted as four points, and shots made from the stands counted as five points.

Byron Scott was the usual victor in the team’s shooting games, earning him the nickname "20 Dollar Man," which is why he had such confidence.

Gan Guoyang thought to himself that this was the boss’s battle of wits, yet this lackey was stepping up to show his loyalty—he must be too eager to display his allegiance.

He walked down from the stands and asked about the rules, and Johnson told him, adding, "In our team, Scott always wins this game. The rest of us just shoot the ball, but he’s the real shooter."

Gan Guoyang said, "I’ll show you what real shooting is—give me the ball!"

Gan Guoyang came down from the stands and walked to the second row, where Johnson tossed a ball to him.

Standing there in the stands, Gan Guoyang said, "5 points, right? Watch closely."

Having warmed up for an hour and a half, Gan Guoyang’s hands were already hot, plus he was in great condition from all the running.

He stood in the second row, aimed at the hoop, and let loose a super long-range shot.

The ball traced a very high arc, and Magic’s group of three turned their heads from the stands to the basket, then watched as the ball whooshed into the net.

Gan Guoyang said, "Still want to play? I’ll score 15 points. How do you plan to beat me, Byron?"

["I remember it clearly, the first game of the regular season on January 1, 1985. We were playing the Trail Blazers at home. In the morning, I went with Magic and Cooper to warm up at The Forum and ran into Ah Gan jogging. We joked with each other, then Ah Gan, as you know, always says stuff to provoke people. He called us a sprint relay team, and Magic said we could also shoot and pointed at me. Then Ah Gan was like, ’Him, a shooter? I shoot more accurate than him.’

I got heated because I was very confident in my shooting—I felt I was second to none in the league, aside from Larry. So I stepped up and proposed we have a shootout, playing it the Lakers’ betting way. Three-pointers counted as three points, shots over the boundary counted as four points, and shots from the stands counted as five points. Ah Gan agreed, came down from the stands to the second row, took the ball, said, ’5 points? Watch this,’ and just threw it—and damn, it went in!

I was stunned at that moment and started to regret it a bit. Ah Gan said he could get 15 points and asked how I planned to win. In my head, I was like, ’I’m ready to lose 20 dollars’... Haha, but then I gave up; I didn’t shoot anymore. To be honest, I was shaken by him. He was full of confidence and always made the bets he bragged about come true, which was the scariest thing. Actually, from that moment, Magic and the rest of us started to feel that this guy was an even more terrifying enemy than Larry.]"

————Byron Scott speaking in 2017 during a basketball interview show, excerpted.