Sports Medicine Master System

Chapter 602: Chapter 528: You’re Always Her MVP

Night had fallen, and an evening breeze was blowing. In a corner of the beach, a floodlight illuminated a basketball court, bright as snow.

A quick stop, a pullback, then another burst of speed. Durant blew past his opponent like a gust of wind, finishing the play with a thunderous dunk.

He hung on the rim, yanking it hard as if to vent his inner frustration.

A crowd of spectators had gathered, dressed in all sorts of flashy outfits, letting out waves of astonished cries.

"Next!"

Durant ripped off his sweat-drenched tank top, revealing his wiry frame.

He was lean, but his eight-pack was still clearly visible.

His slender build was only in comparison to other professional players. To an average person, his physique was still top-class.

The people in the crowd looked at each other, but no one stepped up to challenge him.

Three hours earlier, Durant had shown up and made a bold declaration: he would take on anyone in a one-on-one.

At Venice Beach, there was never a shortage of challengers brimming with confidence.

And in a place like this, teeming with hidden talent, there was always someone ready to put them in their place.

But today, they had met their match.

For nearly four hours, challengers had come one after another, taking turns, only to be demolished by Durant.

Durant, breathing heavily, glanced at the timer under the hoop.

In three minutes, the timer would hit zero.

He had succeeded in the first day’s challenge.

"Tomorrow, right here! I’ll take on any challenger!"

Durant raised his arms, like a newly crowned king, declaring his dominion to the surrounding crowd.

No one responded.

Today, Durant had beaten everyone into submission with his skill.

Durant turned to look at the other court. A large crowd had gathered there as well.

He pushed through the crowd and walked over.

On the court, Harden was executing a series of between-the-legs dribbles before faking a drive and sinking a smooth jump shot.

His timer, however, still had an hour and forty minutes left.

He had unexpectedly lost a game midway through, so his timer had been reset.

Harden’s opponent was a young Black man with dreadlocks. He was also shirtless, revealing a body packed with muscles as hard as iron.

He was a few centimeters taller than Harden, incredibly fast, and played rough.

Amid the roaring cheers of the crowd, he bulldozed past Harden, charged to the basket, and finished with a windmill dunk.

After landing, he cupped a hand to his ear, gesturing for the crowd to get louder.

The air was filled with a roaring chant: "Mad Billy! Mad Billy!"

That was his nickname.

Many people also booed Harden, flashing various taunting hand signs.

Harden’s face was grim as he gasped for breath.

Offensively, he was fine. He was already a top player on his school team, and after arriving in Phoenix, he had spent nearly a month with a top-tier trainer, which had greatly improved his skills and tactics.

But his physical disadvantage was too great. Against particularly strong opponents, they could simply overpower him with brute strength.

It was an infuriating situation, and it was the very reason he’d lost before.

He saw Durant in the crowd and instantly knew he had already completed his challenge.

"Fuck."

Harden cursed under his breath, clapped his hands, and signaled to continue.

But just three minutes later, Harden lost the one-on-one by a single point.

"Go on home!"

Many people in the crowd jeered.

Harden bit his lip, silent.

The timer reset to zero again.

Four hours felt as long as a nightmare.

He turned his head, looking at Durant.

Durant looked back, also silent.

They locked eyes for a few seconds, and then the frustration in Harden’s heart burst forth like a broken dam.

"I’m quitting," Harden said abruptly, turning and walking over to the follow-cam director to inform him.

He was exhausted. He didn’t want to play anymore.

A massive wave of despair washed over him. ’Work my ass off to complete the challenge, get the revival chance, and then what? Watch Durant get rid of Little Jordan just to bring his own good buddy back?’

’From now on, those two can be best buddies. And me? I’m just the third wheel. Even if we make it to the playoffs, I’ll be the one who gets thrown away, traded. I might as well just quit now.’

In that moment, Harden suddenly felt like he understood Little Jordan.

Harden slung his backpack over his shoulder and pushed his way through the jeering crowd to leave.

In the crowd, Durant started to panic.

’Little Jordan left, and now Harden is leaving too!’

Durant had never been in a situation like this before and had no idea what to do.

Gritting his teeth, Durant approached the follow-cam director and asked if he could complete the challenge in Harden’s place.

The director hesitated, saying he’d have to ask Ernest. He told them to head back to the hotel and rest for now, since it was already seven or eight o’clock and getting late.

Durant’s mood lifted a little. He rushed back to the hotel, knocked on Harden’s door, and told him the good news.

"James, it’s okay! I’ll complete the challenge for you tomorrow! We can win this," Durant said, his face alight with excitement, even though the director hadn’t actually agreed yet.

Harden stared blankly at Durant for a long moment, then shrugged. "Whatever," he said, and shut the door in his face.

Durant’s smile froze on his face.

He hadn’t expected that reaction from Harden, and a strange sense of grievance washed over him.

’You can’t do it, so what’s the problem with me taking over for you?’

Durant stood outside Harden’s door for a full two minutes before returning to his own room, feeling utterly alone.

The next morning, the follow-cam director hit Durant with more bad news, sending the player, who had been planning to complete the challenge on his own, into a frenzy.

Ernest had refused. The challenge had to be completed by Harden himself.

"But..."

Durant wanted to argue, but in the end, he couldn’t find the words.

Suddenly, he wanted to give up too. It felt like everything he was doing was for nothing.

After lying in his room all day, Durant finally dragged himself out of bed at dusk, grabbed his backpack, and headed out.

He had been thinking all day.

He didn’t know what other people were thinking, and he didn’t care. As for his own challenge, he was determined to complete it no matter what.

But to Durant’s surprise, when he arrived at Venice Beach, Harden was already there and had already started his challenge.

"James."

Durant called out, pleasantly surprised.

Harden merely shot him a glance and ran past without a word.

Durant frowned slightly, but his mood still improved. At least Harden hadn’t given up completely.

Four hours later, Durant once again completed his challenge.

Harden, on the other hand, had his timer reset twice.

The local players seemed to know Harden was the weaker link, and they took out all the frustration they’d built up against Durant on him.

A little past eight in the evening, after losing yet another one-on-one, Harden called a halt to the filming, grabbed his bag, and left without a word.

Durant wanted to run after him and offer some words of comfort, but he didn’t know what to say.

Then came the third day. At dusk, Harden still headed out on time to the beach for his challenge.

Unsurprisingly, he failed again.

Durant watched from the sidelines the entire time, his heart heavy.

In those three days, they had forfeited another two games and had dropped to tenth place in the West.

Durant lay on his bed, talking on the phone with Beasley.

"Kevin, that kid is useless. Just tell the show’s producers to replace him. Oh, right, can’t you guys make trades? Just trade him. He can’t even beat a bunch of streetballers, and he thinks he’s gonna make the NBA?" Beasley ranted on the phone.

Durant was in a foul mood and offered a weak defense for Harden. "He’s actually pretty good."

’His physical disadvantage is just a little too much.’

"Good for what? Listen to me, Kevin. Hurry up and figure out a way to replace them and get the revival spot. I’m waiting for them to come get me."

Durant gave a noncommittal reply, but inside, his thoughts were a tangled mess.

He tossed the phone aside, about to bury his head and sleep, when his phone rang again.

He fumbled for it and saw that it was Charles Craig.

Durant let it ring for a long time before finally answering.

"Charles, I’ve let you down," Durant said apologetically as soon as he answered. The past few days of frustration and setbacks had haunted him, crushing all the confidence he’d had before the show.

The words had barely left his lips before his eyes began to well up.

On the other end of the line, Craig, who had been ready to tear into him, immediately held his tongue. He let out a long, quiet sigh. After a moment, he spoke. "Kevin, you haven’t disappointed me. In my eyes, you’re still the best. I’ll never forget that night we watched the draft, when you told me you wanted us there with you in the green room on your draft night."

"I told you then, ’No problem,’ that I believed you could do it. So, are you really going to give up now?"

The question made tears stream down Durant’s face.

"But I don’t know what to do anymore."

Craig’s voice grew louder. "Then start by telling me what the problem is."

Presti had contacted him. The show’s production crew had even rushed out to his place in Washington to film something, but Craig didn’t know the specific details of what was going on.

"So that’s what’s going on, Charles. What am I supposed to do?" Durant poured out all his pent-up frustration and anguish before finally asking for advice.

On the other end of the line, Craig was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Kevin, you’re wrong!"

"When you’re frustrated and anxious because your teammate can’t complete the task, you should stop and think. He’s probably even more anxious and frustrated than you are. That’s when you should be comforting him, encouraging him, and working with him to solve the problem, not just complaining."

"Kevin, you’re in high school now. You’re almost an adult. You need to take on responsibility—not just for yourself, but for your teammates, too. So before you complain about your teammate, you need to try and see things from his perspective."

"Go. Go have a real talk with him. You two need to communicate, to figure this out together. If you don’t even try, you’ll never complete this task."

"And last, don’t you ever think about giving up. I don’t want to turn on the TV next week and see that you’ve quit the show. And I don’t want to see you show up at my door, defeated. I would be very disappointed. Your mother would be very disappointed."

"Remember, in her heart, you’ll always be her MVP."

Thinking of his mother, who had struggled so much to raise him, Durant’s eyes welled up with tears once more.

After a moment, he wiped his tears, took a deep breath, and walked out of his room to knock on Harden’s door.

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