Chapter 10 What's Your Goal?

Thomas drove them to the prearranged hotel by his rented Toyota Sedan, which was modest but spacious.

The coaches were put up in suites with large beds and comfortable sofas. Thomas decided to stay there too.

Tom squinted, sensing something significant, while snickering to himself. In the United States, gay are common. Jerry felt a chill down his spine from the stare, but he offered no explanation.

Some things can’t be explained, as it might only make things murkier.

As the players arrived and checked into the hotel, Thomas no longer doubted Jerry's legitimacy as an assistant coach for the Knicks.

Interestingly, the players all greeted Tom first. When they learned that Jerry was the main coach for this venture, their initial reaction was bafflement.

Chunky had the strongest response. "You're joking, right? He looks even younger than my cousin who just started college."

"It's no joke. Whoever gets more playtime and who's the core, whatever tactics we run, I decide." Jerry walked up to Chunky with a smile. "So, you’d best not to trouble me."

He smiled. but Chunky sensed immense pressure and didn't dare say anything else. A moment's verbal sparring could put his future at risk-only a fool would do that.

When Jerry met the unseasoned Stephen Stephen, his features still hinted at youth, but his body was robust.

Mikki Moore arrived in a sleeveless sports tee, revealing a snake tattoo on his right arm that probably led to his nickname.

The seemingly honest Bruce greeted everyone and seemed the most approachable. Had Jerry not reborn, he would have been deceived; in reality, Bruce had the heart of a villain.

Only Ben looked nearly the same as Jerry remembered, despite without his Afro. His arms were as thick as some people's heads, and his expression was grim and intimidating.

No one greeted Ben. His face alone seemed to say he was on edge, ready to fight at the slightest provocation. He seemed like he'd have a future in the gangs if not in basketball.

The players went to acclimate to the court in the afternoon, with one final training slated for tomorrow. They had limited time to prepare.

The Summer League didn't afford teams much time to fit in, so without individual strength, hoping to win the game in such a short time was a fantasy. The impracticality of such hastily assembled teams was why Glen Walsh harbored doubted about Jerry and his squad—a view not without merit.

After the running drills and warm-up, Jerry gathered everyone for a pre-game talk.

With a smile, he began. "I know some of you might question my abilities because of my age. Despite being only 23years old, I’m the Lead Assistant Coach of the New York Knicks, acknowledged as a genius by the management. You're all fringe players who had difficulty securing even a minimum wage job in the NBA. But I completely understand you."

At this moment, the phrase that came to everyone's mind was “damn”!

Tom, who had come along for the spectacle, asked Thomas, "Has he always been so arrogant?"

Thomas, stunned, shook his head instinctively. "I'm beginning to doubt he is not the guy who I knew."

Even in front of a motley crew of marginal players, Tom would never dare speak this way. If the players didn't put in the effort and the team suffered consecutive losses, the coach would have to shoulder the blame.

Jerry didn't see it that way; he was leveraging his unprecedented position. To these outsiders, who knows what authority he wielded within the Knicks?

If he truly were a genius acknowledged by management and a key developmental focus, wouldn't he easily control their fates? Jerry stood in that position now, and they had no choice but to believe.

"So, make sure you listen to me if you want a chance to join the Knicks." Jerry paused before raising his voice emphatically. "This summer, you're fighting for your opportunity, and I can offer you that. Tell me, do you have goals?"

"Yes!"

Jerry had been paying attention and noted four voices rang out distinctly. They belonged to Ben, Stephen, Chunky, and Bruce.

Why do so many physically dominant guys fail to make it in the NBA? Because the mental aspect of a player is just as crucial. Except for Moore, the “Snake Man” who was the quiet type, everyone who left in the NBA had spoken up.

Less than 400 people worldwide get to play in the NBA each year. A feat that's anything but simple.

Jerry singled out one of them. "Ben, what's your goal?"

"To become a super-defensive player." Ben responded, no longer underestimating Jerry. Being in the coach’s position meant power, not physical strength.

Jerry inquired further. "You're strong, what’s your max on the bench press?"

"420 pounds," Ben announced an impressively shocking number.

Ben wasn’t as freakish as internet legends of the future would said him to be, but that figure was still monstrous. His upper body strength could rank top five in the league, on par with the likes of Shaquille and LDampier.

In college, Ben was already known for his upper body strength. Several schools wanted him for football, he declined propositions.

"Your goal will be accomplished. I believe you possess both strength and speed sufficient for fast break defense, and can hold your own against centers. If you focus your training on help defense, shot-blocking, and rebound control, you could become an All-Star in the future. I have high hopes for you," Jerry stated seriously.

A few simple words of encouragement made the Tough Guy Ben thrilled, roaring a loud "Yes."

The encouragement kindled a fire in Ben. Countless people had doubted him, even when the Washington Wizards signed him, it was as a last resort off the bench.

"With your height, how much can strength help?"

"I’ve never seen anyone shoot free throws worse than you. Without working on your offense, even staying on the Wizards will be a stretch, not even as a fringe player."

"You should've played football; basketball isn’t for you."

Ben had heard too much negativity and had stopped daring to dream about becoming a star since high school. Now Jerry's words ignited a passion within Ben, and at that moment, he felt explosive.

Tom watched the scene, aware that Jerry had tapped into Ben's psyche, resonating deeply. He wondered how he'd managed it.

Jerry approached another player. "Bruce, your voice was one of the loudest. What's your goal?"

Bruce was delighted just being mentioned by name; he was practically unknown.

"I want to be a super defensive player too," he said with vigor.

"The Knicks are renowned for defense. If you defend well and try your best, you have the best chance to stay on, regardless of scoring. Just make sure you sink open shots. Show off your defensive skills in this showcase and avoid things you aren’t good at," Jerry advised Bruce.

Bruce felt reassured by Jerry's words, as if they held a magical quality. He had been practicing shooting at home, fearing poor stats would make him dispensable. Now that the coach had said even scoring wasn't crucial, Bruce was more than satisfied.

Bruce wished he could tell Jerry that if the head coach of the Knicks could be elected by vote, he would steadfastly vote for him. He'd even rush through a black hole back to today just to cast one more vote in his favor.