Chapter Ten: Four versus Four

Soon, Lin Lang spotted a court with fewer people. Though the numbers were smaller, it was only relative; the busiest courts had three or four teams waiting, while even this less crowded one had a team seated on the sidelines, with two others standing nearby, watching the game.

Here, basketball games were typically played four-on-four. Everyone was older now; three-on-three was too taxing for them. With Lin Lang and Lin Nan joining in, they could just make up four teams.

Leading Lin Nan to the sideline, Lin Lang immediately turned to the two standing by and said, “Brothers, add us two; that’ll be another team.”

One of the men, a middle-aged fellow in a black jersey, glanced at Lin Lang and then at Lin Nan, smiling as he replied, “Sure,” then added, “Bringing your son to play?”

Lin Lang nodded, “Yes.”

The middle-aged man continued, “How old is the kid? He’s already at least one seventy-five, right?”

Lin Lang replied with a smile, “Just turned thirteen, had his birthday two days ago. He’s one seventy-five.”

The man said, “Still pretty young. When he gets on court, tell him to be careful. Don’t let him get hurt—basketball here gets a bit rough.”

Lin Lang nodded again. He understood the meaning behind the man’s words, but didn’t warn Lin Nan. At thirteen, a few scrapes were inevitable. He wasn’t a girl, and basketball itself was a sport of physical contact.

So Lin Lang and Lin Nan stood aside, watching the game unfold. The players moved slowly, but their positioning was precise and their passing frequent; as soon as someone was open, another would dart in. This was the typical style of middle-aged and older basketball enthusiasts—preferring teamwork and ball movement over solo heroics.

The game ended with a score of four to five. The losing team was eliminated, and the next team waiting sprang onto the court. Lin Lang’s turn would come after this.

The new team seemed formidable: two reliable shooters, a point guard, and a center over one-eighty. In less than two minutes, they scored five straight baskets, eliminating their opponents five to zero.

Finally, it was Lin Lang and Lin Nan’s turn to play. Their team included the middle-aged man in the black jersey and a young man in a white jersey.

What neither Lin Lang nor Lin Nan noticed was that the opposing players cast strange looks at the black-clad middle-aged man as he stepped onto the court.

As the game started, the young man in white took position under the basket, clearly volunteering to fight for rebounds. Once he was set, the black-jerseyed man received the ball and, in one fluid motion, pulled up for a three-pointer.

With a crisp swish, the ball fell through the net.

“Wow, Iron Man, you’re at it again!”

“Old Zheng, don’t play like this! If you keep this up, who’ll play with you?”

The opposing team laughed and heckled him loudly.

Old Zheng smiled faintly but didn’t reply, instead taking the ball for the second possession, preparing for another attack.

Lin Lang and Lin Nan quickly realized that this middle-aged man in black was the “Iron Man” they’d mentioned—Old Zheng.

But they wondered: all this fuss over one basket? The pull-up three-pointer was impressive, but the teasing seemed exaggerated.

Was it really, though?

In the next moments, to Lin Lang and Lin Nan’s astonishment, “Iron Man”—Old Zheng—scored four consecutive baskets using a variety of moves: quick stop jump shot, change-of-direction jump shot, spin jump shot, fadeaway jump shot. He completely ignored the defenders.

With the first three-pointer, that made five.

Now Lin Lang and Lin Nan understood—the banter from the other team had not been exaggerated, if anything, it was understated.

Lin Nan was truly stunned, his youthful gaze filled with confusion and admiration for the man in black. Lin Lang was astonished as well, but quickly regained his composure. He guessed that the “Iron Man” was usually a strong player, but today, or in recent days, he was on fire, almost unable to miss. That’s how basketball works—when someone’s in the zone, nothing can stop them.

Sure enough, soon Lin Lang overheard a middle-aged man in red, who’d just been eliminated, say to his teammate, “Old Zheng must be on meds these days. The day before yesterday, yesterday, and today—his shooting percentage is just ridiculous!”

He joked, “If he keeps playing like this, who will play with him!”

Lin Lang couldn’t help but laugh. He’d brought Lin Nan to play for exercise, but ended up with such a powerhouse teammate.

But when someone’s on fire and making every shot, you can’t deny him the right to shoot at will. After all, the primary goal of the game is to win.

It’s like when Kobe Bryant’s substitute comes off the bench and starts scoring at will—the coach will grant him unlimited shot privileges, and even Kobe would step aside and play support.

The logic is universal in team sports: if you can guarantee every shot, or most shots, won’t miss, then no matter how solo your play, no one will object, because the result outweighs the process.

Next, Old Zheng, the man in black, lived up to his “Iron Man” nickname, sinking more than ten baskets in a row, defeating three or four teams consecutively—almost holding court for two rounds.

Lin Lang felt at a loss. In their team, aside from serving and passing, everything was left to “Iron Man,” and defense barely seemed necessary.

Lin Nan, on the other hand, was delighted. His team had won so many games in a row, and as one of them, he felt happy and proud.

But no matter how hot the hand, there comes a moment when it cools—perhaps from fatigue, or perhaps from the new team’s hunger for victory.

“Iron Man” missed a shot under tight defense from a young opponent—a complete airball.

The counterattack had begun.

This was the very team that had previously eliminated their rivals five to zero before Lin Lang’s turn.

With determination to win, their point guard handled every possession with care; the two shooters ran hard to get open, and their center battled Lin Lang’s teammate in white under the basket, fighting for the best rebounding position.

“Iron Man” guarded the open man, while Lin Lang and Lin Nan defended the shooters.

At first, the opposing point guard seemed unsure how to attack. Their defense was solid, and he found it hard to go one-on-one against “Iron Man.”

Then, he noticed something: Lin Nan’s youthful face. He’d been fooled by Lin Nan’s height of one seventy-five, but now he saw the “kid.”

Opportunity revealed itself. The point guard signaled to the middle-aged shooter Lin Nan was guarding, indicating the basket. The shooter understood at once and moved to the basket, positioning himself on the other side.

Lin Nan naturally followed, blocking the shooter’s path to the ball.

But the ball was still lobbed over.

Seeing the high pass, Lin Nan smiled to himself—did they think his jumping ability couldn’t cut it?

Reality was cruel. As the ball neared, Lin Nan prepared to leap, bending his knees, ready for takeoff.

But as he jumped, a large hand gently “pushed” him from behind—his jump failed. The middle-aged shooter caught the ball easily and banked it in. The score was one to zero.

Lin Nan wanted to call “foul,” but saw everyone, including his teammates, already preparing to defend the next play, and let the words die on his lips.

He looked to his father for help, but Lin Lang was calm, seemingly urging him to handle it himself.

Lin Nan closed his mouth and focused on defending the next play.

The opposing point guard again signaled to the middle-aged shooter Lin Nan was guarding, hoping to repeat the trick.

This time, Lin Nan saw through the plan. He didn’t ready himself to leap for the steal, but instead pressed back hard with his body, stretching one arm upward to block another pass.

But fate intervened—the ball was lobbed over again.

As the ball soared, Lin Nan felt a steel-like hand pressed firmly against his back, pinning him in place—he couldn’t move!

The middle-aged shooter caught the ball once more, banked it in, and the score was two to zero.

Was this a foul? Or just physical play?

Lin Nan was bewildered.

In his confusion, the ball was passed over a third time.

As he pressed back, Lin Nan leapt suddenly, hoping to intercept—but once again, the big hand gave him a subtle shove, stopping his jump before it began.

The shooter caught the ball, banked it in again. The score was three to zero.

Lin Nan felt a bit dejected. He had become the opponent’s weak link, and they exploited it every time.

Yet his fighting spirit was ignited.

For the fourth pass, Lin Nan didn’t block the shooter’s path but stood behind him, letting him receive the ball, hoping to block his shot as he banked it in.

The idea was lovely; reality was harsh.

After catching the ball, the shooter used his backside to push Lin Nan away. As Lin Nan was shoved aside, the shooter instantly released his shot, giving Lin Nan no time to jump.

Banked in, four to zero.

Lin Nan felt helpless, glanced at the other three opponents, compared them in his mind, then walked up to “Iron Man.”

With a pleading tone, he said, “Shall we switch defenders?”

“Iron Man” nodded silently.

The opposing point guard smiled at the fresh-faced Lin Nan.

Lin Nan saw his opponent’s height—about one seventy—confidence surged. Surely he could guard this one!

The point guard opened play by signaling to the middle-aged shooter “Iron Man” was guarding to set a screen, and his teammate obliged.

The young man immediately dribbled toward the screen, “Iron Man” rushed to help, and Lin Nan, caught by the screen, was left unsure what to do.

At that moment, the middle-aged shooter slipped toward the basket, and Lin Nan realized too late, hurrying to defend.

But the ball had already been passed ahead.

Another bank shot. Five to zero.

“Iron Man’s” team had finally lost.