Chapter Fifty-Four: Defeat Upon Defeat (Part Two)

Wang Lei sat quietly on the chair at the edge of the court. He did not seem to think that the players on the court were making him lose face, but in truth, his heart was anxious and unsettled. After all, this was his first time serving as head coach, even though he carried the experience of two different worlds within him.

Wang Lei was not truly worried that his team would be utterly crushed in this match. Even if they were, it would be within reason—there was not a single professional player on the team, not even a semi-professional. The most experienced among them, Cai Aihong, had only ever appeared for a few minutes as a substitute in some inconsequential games.

The only thing Wang Lei truly feared was that these young men would be completely broken by this match.

Competitive sports have always been merciless, reflecting humanity’s most basic animal nature. Survival of the fittest is the fundamental law. Every successful athlete who achieves greatness, be it physically or mentally, is among the best of humankind.

People delight in the glory and rewards of being a champion, but rarely do they witness the sacrifices made behind the scenes—the sweat, the tears, sometimes even the blood, that nourish the making of a champion.

Wang Lei thought that if, by some chance, he had two years, this team would be utterly transformed; they could very well change the atmosphere of the entire basketball world. But reality allowed him no such luxury. All he could do was grit his teeth and let these young men grow through adversity and hardship. Those who endured would have a brand-new future. But for those who could not, he was sorry—perhaps competitive sports simply were not meant for them.

Three full minutes into the match, the Provincial Youth Team finally scored their first point. Hawuler, forcing his way inside, perhaps drew the referee’s sympathy—one from the Frontier University—who called a foul on the University of Finance and Economics. Hawuler Pulati made one of two free throws, earning the first point for the Provincial Youth Team. By this time, the University of Finance and Economics had already scored twelve points.

The University of Finance and Economics’ team was at best somewhere between second and first tier in the province’s collegiate basketball circle. They aspired to reach the finals of the college league and had the belief, but lacked just a bit in strength and luck, often narrowly missing qualification.

Their style of play was orthodox and disciplined, reflecting their coach, Tursun Azati’s, background. He had played for the provincial team in his youth, retired before full professionalization, enrolled in a sports institute, and after graduating, came to teach at the University of Finance and Economics.

Even though their offensive and defensive rhythm was slow, they faced little resistance from the Provincial Youth Team’s pitiful defense. In just three or four minutes, the University of Finance and Economics had scored in double digits.

Cai Aihong was tall enough but far too thin, and ever since joining the team, Wang Lei had been training him in perimeter skills. Relying on his height to defend the University of Finance and Economics’ inside offense was out of the question. While Hawuler had strength, his height was limited and his inexperience glaring, making him no match for the opposing captain, Aierken.

Anyone watching would see this as a slaughter—a massacre by the University of Finance and Economics against the Provincial Youth Team.

In the fourth minute, Hawuler committed his third personal foul. Aierken, the center for the University of Finance and Economics, easily sank both free throws, stretching the lead to thirteen points. The entire Provincial Youth Team—on the court and on the bench—fell into utter silence. Each face was blank and helpless, save for Wang Lei.

Wang Lei stood and called for a timeout. Amid the audience’s jeering laughter, the game paused. The laughter, in truth, was directed at the Provincial Youth Team, for the spectators had all seen the referee’s signal, but on the court, Turgun still rushed blindly into the opponent’s half, dribbling like a stubborn mule.

“Rest. Sit down and catch your breath. Don’t say anything yet—regain your composure before we talk.”

Wang Lei forced himself to appear unfazed. Though less than five minutes had passed, the players on the court were tense to the point of exhaustion, their nervous energy draining them even more.

“Coach, there’s no way we can play like this!”

It was, as always, the tactless Cai Aihong who blurted out his feelings, ignoring Wang Lei’s instruction.

Cai Aihong felt that even calling Wang Lei ‘coach’ right now was generous, for he believed Wang Lei had only brought them here to be humiliated.

“Don’t speak. Calm down first. Think about what we should do with our next possession. Think about the difference between this game and our scrimmages. Everyone, think.”

Wang Lei did not respond to Cai Aihong directly, but instead asked everyone to cool their heads.

It was a long timeout. Across the court, the University of Finance and Economics’ bench was relaxed and at ease. What truly surprised everyone was the utter silence on the Provincial Youth Team’s side—no one spoke a word.

Each member of the Provincial Youth Team had their own thoughts, their true feelings unknowable to outsiders, but their faces spoke volumes of frustration and helplessness.

As the timeout was about to end, Wang Lei finally spoke again.

“I know you’re all nervous. To be honest, so am I. Some of you have played in official games before, but this is my first time as a head coach. I want you to relax, but I know that’s not easy.”

“Forget about what happens after the match. Focus your minds entirely on the game. I want you to pick up the pace, but also play with structure—show our strengths. Don’t just stand still waiting for the ball—move. Everyone, move.”

“On defense, don’t reach in recklessly, but if you’re going to go for it, do so decisively. Hawuler, take a rest. Zhang Wenfeng, you’re in for the inside. Our principle is attack—keep attacking.”

“Turgun, calm yourself. I know you’re not nervous, but you’re too excited. Work with your teammates, run your sets. Cai Aihong will keep screening for you. Keep your head clear. Don’t let me down.”

“Remember, our principle stands—fifteen seconds for each offense. Once the time’s up, send the ball out.”

Although Wang Lei claimed to be nervous, his words carried a special steadiness that quietly calmed the young men around him.

Indeed, the game had already begun—like a bow fully drawn, arrow notched to the string. There was no turning back; they could only grit their teeth and press on.

Wang Lei had not spent much time teaching these young men complex tactics during their usual training, but through daily scrimmages, they had learned their own style by discussing and experimenting together. They knew one another’s strengths intimately. Now, Wang Lei did not scold or berate them for their poor performance, and this, at least, steadied them. They were no longer as lost as they had been moments before on the court.