Basketball Terminal

Chapter 15 Story
On the other side, when Levi left the Nassau Arena, every muscle in his body was soaked with exhaustion. The afternoon's tryouts were extremely intense, a huge test of his physical fitness. Levi knew that the physical fitness test was also part of the tryouts, and this was one of his minor weaknesses.

Joining a professional team and becoming a professional player requires an extremely high level of physical endurance. Intense training is just the foundation; there are also frequent games and constant travel. If you want to have any leisure time, you absolutely must have a strong body, otherwise professional basketball will drain you dry, leaving you with nothing.

Li Wei's time in this world was still too short, and the results of his physical training weren't obvious. Fortunately, Li Wei had a good foundation to begin with, and he was well-prepared for this trial. He spent the afternoon adjusting his breathing and heart rate to keep them stable, and completed the trial quite well. Towards the end, he suppressed his discomfort and the urge to vomit; he didn't want to lose points. He went to the restroom before leaving and vomited some, which made him feel a little better.

If he doesn't improve his physical fitness, even if he makes the final cut, he'll be eliminated because he can't keep up with the intensity of the team's training and matches. Li Wei knows this all too well. Because he uses special abilities, his energy consumption is already much higher than when he plays normally, so the demands on his physical fitness are naturally much greater. This is also why he needs to buy technology from Luo Ping. In this era, for the poor, mutation alone isn't enough; they need to invest in technology as well.

His immediate priority was to raise $3000. He was almost out of money from the challenges, and since he had no income of his own, his parents might be able to provide some support. As for his dear brother, all his money was invested in the sneaker resale fund; Li Wei had used his brother's shoes and felt too embarrassed to ask for more money. He needed to think of another way.

As I exited the stadium and prepared to catch the bus, a Saturn SUV pulled up at the same small stop I'd come from. The window rolled down, and it was Scott Mitchell, a reporter from NetDaily. He waved to Levi: "Hey Victor, where do you live? I'll give you a ride!"

Flushing!

"I knew it! Get in the car!"

Without hesitation, Li Wei got into Mitchell's car. Taking the bus or subway was not only time-consuming but also expensive, so it was naturally a good thing if someone was willing to give him a free ride. Moreover, Li Wei knew that Mitchell definitely wanted to extract more information about him to write a feature article, so this was an equal exchange.

As evening rush hour approached, traffic on the road from Long Island to Queens picked up. Scott Mitchell pressed Levi for more details. He'd developed a strong interest in Levi after interviewing Uncle Davis that afternoon. He'd looked at Levi's social media accounts, which featured many videos of him playing one-on-one against others. His defense was indeed impressive. He asked Levi what the purpose of the account was—was it just to raise money for his dog's vet bills?
"What do you want me to do with this account?" Li Wei asked, looking at the endless stream of traffic on the elevated highway.

“Why do you ask that? I just want to know the situation, I don’t mean any harm.” Mitchell thought that Levi had misunderstood him.

“I know you don’t mean any harm. What I mean is, as a journalist, what kind of stories do you like?”

“Oh~” Mitchell hadn’t expected Levi to say that, but he had indeed hit the nail on the head. Wasn’t he just there to collect stories? If Levi really said, “I’m just here to raise money for the dog,” then the story would definitely lose some of its legendary quality. Mitchell suddenly realized that this kid was a shrewd one.

"From an appealing perspective, the best purpose for creating your account is to try out for a chance, to become a professional player, and to be part of your dream-chasing plan."

“Bingo, that’s the truth. This was part of my plan. I got the scout’s attention through my account, he contacted me and asked me to come for a tryout, and that’s how I ended up here.”

"Really? Who was it? Who noticed you?"

"Sean McCallian".

“So it was him…that’s great, that’s a good story.” Scott Mitchell realized he’d met a smart guy, and smart guys are always good storytellers. Professional sports are essentially a giant reality show and storytelling event. Superb skills combined with compelling stories form the foundation of this massive business. Without skills, there are no ingredients; without stories, there’s no seasoning. In the NBA, players, coaches, and management provide the skills and the games, while the media, journalists, and other writers provide the stories; together, they contribute intellectual nourishment to the fans.

However, the competition among writers in the league is just as fierce as, or even fiercer than, the competition among players, because the power to tell stories is monopolized by a few. Those at the top of the media have dedicated television programs and columns, access to top stars, quick access to firsthand information, and the richest, freshest material to craft stories that fans love. Lower-level writers like Scott Mitchell either rely on secondhand or even thirdhand material, rehashing stories as middlemen, or they can only interview minor figures and marginalized individuals in the league, writing realistic stories about dreams and life, often receiving critical acclaim but not commercial success. Sometimes, even critical acclaim isn't guaranteed, because minor figures rarely enjoy reading stories about minor figures—who likes to constantly look in the mirror?

Kelvin Davis is a good story; the rookie label at 62 is certainly eye-catching. However, this story can only be short-lived, with no follow-up. Davis himself will write an autobiography recounting his life, but that will have nothing to do with Scott Mitchell anymore.

The truly great stories in basketball are always lengthy, recounting a player's life, growth, hardships, setbacks, and triumphs—like an epic drama that accompanies fans on their long journey. But such stories are rare. A truly excellent, legendary story can sustain many people, like Michael Jordan. His "The Last Dance," released just last year, still resonates across the United States. And more than 20 years have passed since his retirement. How many stories can remain fresh and relevant after 20 years?
Scott Mitchell's current focus is on James Harden's story. The MVP, recently traded to the Nets, is at the peak of his career, and Brooklyn fans are eager to know what he can bring to the team, what he's thinking, and what his innermost thoughts are. But Mitchell isn't qualified; that's the job of the NetDaily editor-in-chief. He's stuck in Long Island, trying to find a niche. Mitchell realized that Levi might be a decent angle—his experience, especially his Chinese heritage, might just be another Jamie Lin.

The "Linsanity" phenomenon launched the careers of several journalists, writers, and directors. A deluge of reports, interviews, and subsequent books brought them both fame and fortune. At the time, the competition for coverage was so fierce that some employees were even fired by ESPN for using inappropriate headlines. Because the story was so compelling and unique, everyone wanted a piece of the action, resulting in chaos and confusion. The director who first discovered Jeremy Lin's potential and began filming him, however, didn't need to fight for it; he reaped the biggest rewards.

The car had reached Flushing. Scott Mitchell's questions were decreasing, but his mind was becoming increasingly troubled. Levi thanked Mitchell, they exchanged phone numbers, and said goodbye at the next stop. Watching Levi drive away, Mitchell gripped the steering wheel and let out a long sigh, thinking, "I'm really desperate for fame, pinning my hopes on being the next Jamie Lin. Whether he can even make the Long Island Nets is questionable… Oh right, I should make a call and ask how things are going."

Scott Mitchell called Matt Tellum, the assistant general manager of the Long Island Nets, with whom he had been in contact.

"Hey Matt, it's Scott. I wanted to ask you something. How did today's tryouts go? Who got selected?"

"Oh, we have the results. It's Victor Lee, that Asian player."

"He really made it? Wow, that's amazing... What was his evaluation during the trial?"

"The trial evaluation was perfect, at least that's what Brett said."

“Shit…” Mitchell hadn’t expected Levi to actually succeed. After a few moments of thought, he quickly asked, “Matt, when are you planning to tell him?”

"The plan is for tomorrow. It's almost time to leave work, and I'm not going to do any work after get off work. I still need to draft a contract for him tomorrow, which needs approval from above."

"Okay, okay, I understand. Thank you, have a nice day off."

After hanging up the phone, Mitchell realized this was a good opportunity to further strengthen his relationship with Levi. He quickly found a place to park his car and prepared to go to Levi's house to tell him the good news in person.

(End of this chapter)