Sports Medicine Master System

Chapter 601: Chapter 527: 8-Hour Challenge

To provide a better resting environment, the production crew rented separate houses near the school for Durant’s and DeRozan’s groups.

At this moment, Durant was curled up on the living room sofa, playing NBA Live 2004. He was controlling Tracy McGrady, completely dominating the game.

Beside him, Harden was lying on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling, lost in thought.

After a long while, Harden suddenly sat up as if jolted back to life and said, "Kevin, I still think we should go talk to DeAndre."

Presti had told them he would talk to Little Jordan about it, and that they shouldn’t worry—just focus on training and wait for news.

But so much time had passed since yesterday. Little Jordan hadn’t returned to their house, and there had been no word from him. Harden was still worried.

He glanced at the camera director following them and asked if there was any new information about Little Jordan.

The camera director just smiled without saying a word, acting as if he were invisible.

Durant gritted his teeth, drove to the basket with Tracy McGrady, and viciously threw down a dunk before saying, "It’s not like we didn’t try to go. He’s the one who doesn’t want to talk to us."

Right after the game ended yesterday, Durant and Harden went looking for Little Jordan. But he hid in the locker room and wouldn’t open the door or speak to them. Then he secretly left the arena, wouldn’t answer his phone, and they hadn’t heard a thing from him since.

The whole situation was still pissing Durant off.

’We lost so badly yesterday. You get to be angry, but who am I supposed to be angry at?’

Harden sighed, frustrated. "So what do we do now? If he leaves, we’ll be short one person. How are we supposed to compete then?"

The topic only made Durant more irritated. He tossed the game controller aside, shot to his feet, and said, "I’m going to train."

With that, he quickly walked out of the room.

Harden opened his mouth but didn’t follow him.

He wasn’t in the mood to train.

Over the past few days, Little Jordan had complained to him a lot, saying their training was a waste of time since he wasn’t getting any opportunities to perform anyway. In the end, he’d just go back to where he came from.

Harden didn’t say anything out loud, but he’d taken it all to heart. That’s why he was also agitated and didn’t really feel like training.

He stared blankly for a while longer before heading out to hang out with DeRozan.

When he found the three of them, they were training intensely, preparing for their next away game.

The three of them actually got along pretty well.

DeRozan wasn’t the type to talk much, but Holidays had a more mature personality. He acted as the glue between them, so there weren’t any major conflicts.

Griffin came from a strict family and had a more docile personality. Having spent years playing a supporting role to his older brother on their team, he wasn’t one to complain about ball distribution and always diligently did his job.

"James, I don’t know what Kevin is thinking, but you have to go talk to DeAndre. Don’t forget, you’re teammates," Holidays said, pulling Harden aside during a break in training.

Although Holidays was only a year older than Harden, he was much more mature when it came to handling people and situations.

In fact, Harden felt the same way himself. He didn’t think it was a huge problem that his touches were taken away or that he had to sacrifice to help Durant rack up high scores.

’My skill level really isn’t as good as Durant’s. I honestly can’t make those difficult shots.’

’Most importantly, we were winning, and that was enough.’

Because of his asthma, he couldn’t even play ball for a while. Even after entering high school, he wasn’t the team’s core player. But Harden felt that was all fine; as long as he worked hard, he would keep getting better.

"Alright. Like you said, we’re teammates."

Harden pushed himself up from the floor, ready to go talk to Little Jordan.

However, when he found the director and asked where Little Jordan was, he learned that Little Jordan had already boarded a flight back to Houston. He’d gone home.

"He really left?"

Harden was stunned. He immediately asked, "If he’s gone, we’re down a man. How are we supposed to play?"

At that moment, Harden couldn’t help but feel a surge of anger and frustration.

’Having conflicts and arguments is normal! Haven’t you ever had a disagreement or gotten into a fight at school?’

’But you apologize afterward, and everyone moves on. What’s this crap about just running off without a word?’

The director just left him with a "wait for further notice" and nothing more.

That evening, Ernest rushed to Safford, gathered Durant and Harden, and announced the production crew’s decision and their plan moving forward.

Durant was about to speak when Presti stopped him with a hand gesture.

He looked at Ernest, frowning deeply. "Steven, so you’re saying we need to complete a challenge to bring DeAndre back to the team? What if he doesn’t want to come back himself? Also, can’t we just replace him with another player? Plenty of people were eliminated in the mock draft earlier."

Out of 126 people, only 90 were chosen in the end.

In Presti’s view, the conflict itself wasn’t a big deal. It was normal for a group of kids to bicker and fight, and he didn’t hold it against Little Jordan.

He just felt that Little Jordan wasn’t a good fit for Durant. A big man unwilling to make sacrifices wasn’t suitable for helping Durant continue to rack up high scores.

’It would be better to take this opportunity to replace him directly.’

The moment he heard Presti wanted to replace Little Jordan, Harden got anxious before Durant could even react. He quickly interjected, "Coach, I think DeAndre is great."

Presti ignored him and kept his eyes on Ernest.

Ernest’s expression was a little strange. He then said, "That’s exactly what I was about to get to. Once you earn the right of revival, Kevin will decide how to use it. You can choose to revive DeAndre, or you can revive anyone else. And when I say anyone, that includes those who were eliminated in the initial selection."

"You make your choice, the person agrees, and we’ll evaluate and determine their value. As long as it doesn’t exceed your current salary cap, there’s no problem."

Presti was overjoyed. Durant, who had been deep in thought with his head down, snapped his head up, a glint of light in his eyes.

’Doesn’t that mean Beasley can be revived too?’

"Alright, that’s settled. This is your challenge mission."

Ernest took out an envelope and handed it to them.

The next day, the two of them immediately set off on their challenge journey.

They would fly to Los Angeles to complete the challenge there.

Their game against Love’s team was declared a forfeit. A day later, they missed another game, which was also ruled a forfeit.

The challenge would take two days, maybe even longer, meaning they might have to forfeit even more games.

They belonged to the East division and were originally ranked seventh. After forfeiting several games in a row, they would likely drop below eighth place.

After arriving in Los Angeles, the two kids quickly took a car to their destination—Venice Beach.

The East Coast has Rucker Park, and the West Coast has its own basketball mecca: Venice Beach.

Their mission was a two-day, eight-hour challenge.

Each day, they had to hold an open challenge at Venice Beach for four hours, taking on any opponent who stepped up.

If they lost a game, the four-hour timer for that day would reset. They had to successfully complete this on two consecutive days.

In the car, Harden looked out at the familiar neighborhood, but his mood didn’t improve.

Yesterday, after they accepted the challenge, Presti immediately pulled them aside for a discussion and proposed using this opportunity to replace Little Jordan.

Harden objected on the spot, feeling that it would be a betrayal of Little Jordan.

What frustrated Harden was that Durant didn’t raise any objections, seemingly acquiescing to Presti’s plan.

It was a terrible feeling, and it filled him with a strong sense of guilt.

"Kevin, what are you really thinking? Are you seriously going to replace DeAndre?" Harden couldn’t help but ask.

Durant, who had been staring blankly out the window, snapped back to reality. He met Harden’s probing gaze, then looked away unnaturally. "I’m not thinking of replacing him," he said. "But... what if he doesn’t want to come back?"

Harden frowned. He really wanted to ask Durant, ’How do you know he doesn’t want to come back? You haven’t even talked to him.’

"James, let’s not talk about this right now. Our goal is to finish this challenge as quickly as possible."

Durant changed the subject. "I don’t think I’ll have a problem. But you... can you handle it?"

The mission required both of them to complete the challenge.

Durant had a pretty good idea of Harden’s skill level.

Durant’s attitude made Harden uncomfortable. He really wanted to ask if Durant was planning to revive Beasley, but the words got stuck in his throat, and he was too embarrassed to ask.

Two people, both unskilled with words, unsure how to communicate their true thoughts.

"Just worry about yourself," Harden mumbled.

He was born in Compton, which was only about twenty kilometers from Venice Beach. He’d gone there to play plenty of times as a kid.

’I don’t think my skill level will be an issue. After all, it’s just a bunch of streetball players over there.’

Durant nodded and fell silent.

A moment later, his phone vibrated. Durant pulled it out, and when he saw Harden looking at him, he shifted uncomfortably.

Harden saw all of this, and his frustration grew.

Just then, the phone in his own pocket vibrated.

Harden pulled it out and was surprised to see a text message from Little Jordan.

"How are things on your end?"

The message wasn’t long.

Surprised, Harden quickly replied, asking how Little Jordan was doing.

He learned that after Little Jordan returned to Houston, his mother had refused to let him in the house. He had slept on a friend’s couch last night.

Little Jordan didn’t say what his mother told him in the text, but Harden could read between the lines that he was in a bad mood and even feeling some regret.

’Otherwise, why would he text and ask what’s going on over here?’

Harden quickly composed a text, telling him there was hope—that if they completed the challenge, Little Jordan could be revived and rejoin the team.

But just as he was about to send it, Harden paused and turned to look at Durant.

At that exact moment, Durant also turned and looked at him.

Their eyes met for a second before Durant was the first to look away.

Harden looked away, gritted his teeth, and deleted the message. He replaced it with a few words of comfort, telling Little Jordan not to worry and that they were working hard to get him back on the team.

A moment later, his phone vibrated.

Little Jordan sent a text. The message was short, just one word.

"Thanks."

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