The basketball team's training schedule was simple.
We attended classes until the end of fourth period.
After lunch, we gathered at the gym starting at 1 p.m. for training—but it was all self-directed.
Everyone goofed around, betting convenience store burgers on 3-on-3 half-court games, barely doing any real training.
I'd suspected as much when they said they were going for a Slam Dunk vibe, but this was basically just playtime.
In the midst of that chaotic atmosphere, I was the only one grinding fundamentals.
Thump! Thump! Thump! I started with dribbling.
Focusing on the feel of the ball against my palms and fingertips, I bounced it in place.
My eyes scanned straight ahead and to the sides, not the ball. Once that felt natural, I started moving.
Ten minutes stationary dribbling, three minutes walking dribbles, two minutes sprint dribbles. Then five more minutes stationary to wrap up.
After those twenty minutes, a seven-minute break, then repeat.
As I got used to the ball like that, Captain Kim Chang-min approached.
"Whoa, you're really putting in the work."
He was a pro hopeful, basically the team's unofficial coach. Not that he taught much beyond basics.
"Interval style, right? Low intensity, high intensity repeats."
"Yeah."
"You're doing good, but your overall dribble looks kinda flat. Especially when you're switching hands..."
He grabbed me and adjusted my form directly.
Way better than self-teaching from videos.
"Like this?"
Thwack! I tried a between-the-legs dribble, and he gave a thumbs-up, adding more advice.
"All good, but don't lean back. Leg-through dribbles are for pressuring the guy in front of you, not protecting the ball. Stay low, step one foot forward, bounce it between. Spot a gap in their D? Rise up, explode through."
"Ah, so that front foot becomes your launchpad."
"Simple way to put it. But dribble mind games are way more complex. NBA guys these days fake with leg-throughs, then step-back for threes."
"Dribbling's a deep art."
Soccer was the same—outside Messi or Hazard-level wizards, it was more psychological warfare with defenders than raw skill.
Even I, without fine touches, had pierced Rudiger once with a sneaky poke.
"Thanks. Can I hit you up if I have more questions?"
"Anytime. I'm just messing around anyway."
He meant it literally.
At 4 p.m., Chang-min headed to his private basketball academy.
The others followed suit.
Six guys off to sports college prep cram schools, Chang-min to his academy, leaving just two art club girls sketching in the gym.
Wasn't there another pro hopeful?
Injured maybe? Never showed his face.
Anyway, the art girls left before 6 p.m., leaving the gym all mine.
This huge gym, all to myself late into the night.
Worth transferring here just for that.
Sure, I kept just one light on over the court to save electricity, but no big deal.
After dinner, I had till 11 p.m. for solo work.
Now shooting drills began.
With all the balls to myself, I wheeled out a cart and fired from the three-point top of the key.
Ting! Ting! Splack! Ting! Ting! Ting! Ignored makes or misses, focused on form. Emptied the cart, stopped the phone recording, then chased down the scattered balls.
Shot from wherever they landed: under the hoop, free-throw line, 45 degrees, corner, half-court line. Didn't matter.
About 400 shots in an hour like that. Then gathered them back into the cart, restarted recording, and shot from the top again.
At 9 p.m., I'd compare videos by time slot, checking if my form held.
Trying to get max arc? Elbow range feels off.
But widening it slowed my release, inviting blocks.
To avoid that, lower the release or arc higher. One or the other.
Decided to go higher arc.
Some analysis vids said gentler curves went in more scientifically.
Shooting session done for now.
9:24 p.m.
Now cleared balls, set up tied mat-wrapped poles around the basket for post-up drills.
Needed usable offense ASAP.
Jumpers would take time in games, so post-ups for now.
Dummies in place...
Thud! Thud! Backed them down, drove to the rim, finished.
Quick like Vince Carter.
Carter kept it simple: backdown to create space, then face up and explode past.
Less hip-and-back push, more shoulder pivot.
Then drive and dunk!
Or spin away for midrange jumper—his post-to-midrange flow was wizardry I couldn't touch yet.
Focus on rim attacks for now.
Core was the backdown push.
Maxed my pivot attack from tryouts too.
Got closer to the rim, and crucially, dribbling backward let me gather first step for an extra one.
More room!
With that extra step, I drove deeper—not a layup, smashed it down.
Wham! First dunk attempt.
Tasted sharp pain.
"Sss...!?"
Palm-searing agony. I'd basically slapped the rim.
Can't grab right away. Oof, hurts.
Keep this up, fingers wrecked.
Checked pro vids: they slammed down like dropping the ball, then smoothly grabbed.
"Whew! Training over anyway."
10:47 p.m. already.
Ten hours including breaks, but still short.
Normally add tactics, plays, passing, box outs, rebounds, team stuff—but solo play first.
Perfect reason to come here.
Elite teams prioritize group drills.
"Anyway... clean up and bounce."
Lights out before 11, locked up.
Out the school gate, showered at the nearby 24-hour sauna, unrolled my solo folding mat from the paid locker, crashed in the corner.
###
Back and forth between school and sauna.
Brutal fundamentals and solo sessions, but never tiring or boring.
I was starving for growth.
Stuck to the biweekly basketball coach like glue for form checks; bought drinks daily for captain and point guard Kim Chang-min's tips.
One month flew.
My basics started shaping up.
Even buddying-up Chang-min praised freely.
"What are you, man? Insanely better than day one."
"Yeah? Dribble looking decent?"
"No scrub vibes anymore. Playing like a baller now. Better than those casuals for sure."
Finally scraping by, huh.
"Join our betting games then. We only got one center, balance sucks. Oh yeah, you got the Shin Hyun-chul vibe down? Everyone's hyped. Dude's got mad character."
"You guys actually do the concepts...?"
"Embarrassing at first. Gets fun quick. FYI, I'm Lee Myung-hoon. Know him? 'It's the same two points!' guy. You and me, Sanwang duo."
"Hah... I've thought about how to play it."
"Can't wait. Start today?"
"Nah, skipping your 3-on-3 bets."
Grinding basics beat pointless scrimmages any day.
Chang-min looked baffled.
"Then where you gonna game?"
"Nationals. We're in it, right? Or friendlies with other schools."
"...?"
Blank stare, total surprise.
Threw me too.
"What? No tournament? Heard Ssangyong Nationals start June 7th."
From Park Eun-ho. Use it to snag U-19 World Cup roster spot.
Chang-min nodded.
"We are. Roster's set. Six guys, minus the two with conflicts."
"Me!?"
"Figured newbie you was out. Anyway, tell coach, add you?"
"Quick!"
Close call. Thought whole team auto-entered. Hopeful entry only?
"Cool, seven now. Easier rotations. You're tall, just park and D's solid..."
"Seven a valid roster? What if three injure mid-game?"
"Keep playing shorthanded."
"For real!?"
Tourney rules varied, but five-man rosters existed. Full-time all, injuries mean 5-on-4, 5-on-3, no default loss.
Made sense.
No instant DQ for shortages—prevents targeting injuries.
Numerical disadvantage didn't mean auto-loss.
"News whines about baseball infrastructure, but hoops is the real struggle. Anyway... hit Jamsil by 1 p.m. tomorrow? Got a game."
"...Nationals start the 7th."
"Direct mains for big schools. We're prelims."
"..."
Unbelievable. Game tomorrow and no one knew?
Asked if they'd trained; he laughed, said their play-games were training.
"Sheesh."
Sudden real-game stage.
Nationals, yet zero tension on their faces.
Chang-min announced me tagging along; casual laughs.
"Oh, Shin Hyun-chul finally debuting?"
"Check that rice-cake gorilla physique."
"We bet 30k each on drinks—bring cash?"
...That's when I realized this basketball team was way more unhinged than I'd thought.
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Read 32 more chapters ahead on NovelDex!
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