Sports Medicine Master System

Chapter 642: Chapter 568: Drew League

The plane broke through the clouds, about to land.

Through the cabin window, all of Los Angeles was already in view.

"Stop crowding me."

Durant, who was by the window, gave Owen a shove and grumbled.

The narrow seat pitch forced Durant, who was just over two meters tall, to scrunch up his legs. It was already bad enough, but now Owen was crowding him again, pressing against him.

"Let’s switch seats," Owen said immediately.

This was his first time traveling far from home, crossing the entire United States to reach the West Coast.

Durant thought, ’We’re already landing. How are we supposed to switch seats?’

When Durant didn’t move, Owen ignored him and leaned over anyway, pressing against the window to look down on the entire Los Angeles metro area.

On top of that, he even complained that Durant was cheap, saying he’d buy sneakers for over three thousand US dollars but wouldn’t spring for first-class seats.

"You spent my money," Durant snapped, glaring at him.

The last time he went to Los Angeles, the production team had arranged it. While it wasn’t first-class, he had at least flown in the relatively spacious business class.

This time, however, the production team told him he had an activity fund and that he would have to use it to buy his own plane ticket to Los Angeles.

As soon as he heard that, Durant chose economy class without a second thought, and on a budget airline, Southwest Airlines, no less.

You can imagine how cramped it was.

And now, to get roasted for it, Durant was about to lose his mind.

’You’re wearing sneakers that cost me over three thousand US dollars, flying on my dime, and you’re still not satisfied?’

Owen pursed his lips and retorted, "I already asked. You used the fund the show gave you. How is that your own money?"

Durant’s face flushed slightly as he retorted without much conviction, "It’s still mine. I won it, so it’s mine."

Owen didn’t argue with Durant. He kept looking out the window and said, "Oh, by the way, I have another dream. I want to visit the Staples Center. You arrange it."

Durant’s eyes widened again.

’I’m not his dad. Why should I be the one to arrange it?’

"No way. That’s not in the plan," Durant refused Owen without a second’s hesitation.

’I flew all the way to Los Angeles to help him meet Kobe, and this kid is still not satisfied. He’s actually making more demands.’

"I don’t care. I’ll just talk to the production team in a minute."

Durant was so irritated he wanted to punch Owen right in the face.

He was suddenly finding Owen incredibly annoying.

The last time he’d been this annoyed with someone was that kid named Green from the season opener.

He’d run into him again at the beginning of the month, and he was just as detestable.

Durant barely managed to hold it in until they got off the plane and into the production team’s van.

The follow-cam director passed the buck on Owen’s wish to visit the Staples Center, telling him he could go as long as Durant agreed.

"No. We don’t have time."

Tomorrow was the last day of the three-day "Dream Challenge." Where would they find the time?

Of course, if he were being honest, there was time. Today, for instance.

They had bought the sneakers in the morning and then boarded the flight. Due to the time difference, it was only two in the afternoon when they arrived in Los Angeles.

Even though they had a task that evening, there was still some time to spare.

But Durant simply didn’t want to let Owen get his way.

’You can’t let this rebellious brat get too comfortable, or he’ll never learn to be grateful.’

Durant remembered the scene at the airport that morning. Old Owen had come to see them off, but Owen had only said goodbye to his sister. He hadn’t even given Old Owen a hug, and the thought of it made Durant angry.

’How can you treat your father like that? Especially after how he treats you?’

Just before they left, while Owen was in the restroom, Old Owen had pulled Durant aside for a private word. He said he knew his son was very rebellious right now, and if he did anything out of line, he hoped Durant could be patient with him and forgive him.

He had even pulled out a thousand US dollars to give to Durant, explaining that Owen had idolized Kobe since he was little. Since it was a rare trip to Los Angeles, he said the money could be used to buy Owen some souvenirs, and that Durant and Owen should eat well and do whatever they wanted for fun.

He even suggested that Durant could say the gifts were from the production team, as Owen might not be willing to accept them if he knew they were from his father.

At that moment, Durant had been so moved he’d almost cried.

His own father had abandoned him for personal pleasure. Only after he got older and couldn’t make it on his own anymore did he come back, begging Durant’s mother to take him back.

He had been absent for Durant’s entire childhood and had never once offered to make up for it.

Compared to Old Owen, the difference was like night and day.

Durant hadn’t taken the money, politely refusing by explaining that the production team had already provided them with a fund.

But after all that, Durant really wanted to teach Owen a lesson and make him understand how much his father loved him, and that he couldn’t keep being so rebellious.

"You’re doing this to me on purpose, aren’t you!" Owen shot back with a glare.

Durant ignored him and asked the follow-cam director what the next task was.

The production team had said he needed to lead Owen through a series of tasks for a chance to meet Kobe.

It also depended on luck—whether Kobe would even have time at that specific moment.

So not only was the process difficult, but ultimate success also hinged on a bit of luck.

There was nothing to be done. If anyone was to blame, it was Owen for dreaming too big.

The follow-cam director glanced at Owen, who was sulking with his arms crossed, and hid a smirk. ’Durant really has his work cut out for him with a rebellious kid like Owen.’

"Kevin, Kyrie, have you guys heard of the Drew League?" the follow-cam director asked.

Owen remained sullen and said nothing, but Durant vaguely remembered the name.

The last time he was in Los Angeles with Harden for the comeback mission, he’d heard some streetballers mention the local league’s name.

The follow-cam director gave them a brief rundown of the Drew League.

"They have games every week, so this week, I’ve arranged for you to play in two of them. Win, and you’ll get a chance to meet Kobe."

"Of course, these two games won’t be easy. I’ll tell you up front, we’ve brought in a ringer for your opponents."

"But don’t worry, we didn’t get any NBA-level players. Just two high school seniors."

The follow-cam director wore a sly grin.

Durant understood at once. Even if they were just high school students, they were probably no ordinary high school students.

"No problem," Durant said, full of confidence.

’For that hundred thousand US dollars, for my family’s dream, I have to make it work, no matter what.’

The group first headed to their hotel. After a short rest, they drove to their destination at four in the afternoon.

In Compton, within the humble gymnasium of an ordinary high school named Charles Drew, a league had been running for over 30 years.

It started every year in July and ended in late August or early September.

This was a league for the community, for the local people.

No tickets were required; anyone could come in and watch. The stands were just two rows of metal bleachers, and whoever got there first snagged the best spots.

You could even stand with the players right on the sidelines, cheering for your favorite team.

The league currently had 12 teams that registered once a year. Most importantly, the rosters weren’t set in stone. Players could come and go as they pleased.

Streetball masters, high schoolers, NCAA college players, and even some from the Development Alliance all came here to play ball.

Even girls could play.

No salary, no prize money—just basketball. Pure basketball.

When Durant and Owen arrived, the spectators hadn’t been let in yet.

Led by the production team, they met the current director of the Drew League, Dino Smiley.

He was very excited about the production team’s arrival.

He even pulled the follow-cam director aside to ask if footage from the game would make it into the final cut of the show.

The Drew League had been around for over 30 years but had always flown under the radar. The chance to be featured on a top-rated national TV show felt like a gift from heaven to Smiley, so naturally, he was eager to cooperate fully.

Durant also met his teammates and coach.

Their team was called the Klay Guardian, the second iteration.

The coach, Joey, cheerfully pulled Durant aside and introduced everyone on the team.

They were mostly streetballers.

"Don’t worry, Kevin. They’re not as weak as you might think. Out of the twelve teams in the league, we’re strong enough to rank in the top four. We’ll support you and win this game," Joey said with a grin, trying to put Durant at ease.

But his tone immediately shifted, and he reminded Durant that he’d have to give it his all.

"That kid has to play, right? According to the show’s rules, he needs at least 30 minutes of court time."

Joey jutted his chin toward Owen. "He’s playing point guard, and David is our team’s best scorer."

The David he was talking about was the team’s starting point guard.

But because of Owen, David could only play for 10 minutes at most.

It was like tying one arm behind their back.

Durant said, "It’s alright, Coach. He’s actually pretty good."

Twelve-year-old Owen possessed skills far beyond his peers.

’And even if he can’t handle it, they’ll still have me.’

’I was able to carry Harden and sweep the entire Los Angeles streetball scene before. Playing in the Drew League should be a piece of cake.’

Joey nodded. "Also, our opponent tonight is MHP. And from what I hear, the show arranged a ringer for them. You knew that, right?"

"I know."

The follow-cam director had mentioned it earlier.

Joey’s expression grew serious. "But I bet you don’t know who your opponent is. His name is Nick Young. He was just accepted to USC this year."

"In high school, he was the team’s undisputed star. You know, he’s the seventh-ranked high school player in the nation!"

Durant’s heart sank. He knew the task wouldn’t be this simple.

’Still,’ he thought, ’the production team cut us some slack. At least they didn’t bring in an NBA-level player.’

"Don’t worry, I’ll handle him!"

Durant, however, was brimming with confidence.

Joey clapped Durant on the back and said with a smile, "I believe in you."

He’d seen the show; he knew how good Durant was.

After finishing his chat with Joey, Durant pulled Owen aside and instructed him to pass him the ball more often when he was on the court.

"Why should I?"

Owen’s eyebrow shot up, and he bristled.

Durant wanted to explain the reasons—that Owen was too young, too short.

Owen’s offensive strength was his ability to drive, but at his height, trying to penetrate a court full of giants would be incredibly difficult.

Not to mention he’d be a defensive liability.

He’d be better off just passing the ball to Durant and counting on him to score enough to win the game.

But Durant was genuinely afraid that saying so would set off the hypersensitive Owen.

The rebellious kid was a powder keg; you never knew what might set him off.

"Just listen to me. Or do you not want to win this game and meet Kobe?" Durant countered.

Owen let out a small huff and said no more.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!