The crowd inside the arena buzzed with confusion. Murmurs spread like wildfire among the fans, players, and even the commentators. Something was clearly off about the starting lineup for Ohio State today.
From the bench, Oden scratched his head in disbelief. He leaned closer to Mike Conley, who was seated next to him, looking equally puzzled.
"Hey, man," Oden muttered, keeping his eyes on the court. "Am I the only one not getting this? Where's Yang? Shouldn't he be starting after his last game?"
Conley frowned, clearly trying to make sense of it too. Usually quick to analyze Coach Gallagher's decisions, even he seemed at a loss. He turned to meet Oden's gaze, his expression mirroring the same confusion.
"Your guess is as good as mine," Conley finally said.
The two weren't alone in their bewilderment. Several teammates stole glances at Yang Yan, sitting calmly on the bench. His face was unreadable. Most expected him to start, especially after his spectacular debut in the last game. Instead, he was planted firmly on the bench, not even warming up.
"Yo, man," Johnny muttered from a few seats down, leaning toward Yang Yan. "What's going on here? You should be out there."
Yang just smiled and shook his head. He didn't have an answer either.
Johnny looked back at the court and then down at his own jersey, slowly connecting the dots. He had been named the starting small forward for today's game. But that made no sense — he was a point guard, through and through. He wasn't built to take hits under the basket or defend against taller, stronger forwards. At 5'8", he'd be crushed out there. He didn't even have the frame to bluff it.
Suddenly, realization struck Johnny like lightning. "Wait a second!"
He slapped his thigh, startling those around him.
"I get it now! Coach is running a mind game. He wants to trick the other team!"
Everyone nearby turned toward him.
"Don't you see?" Johnny continued excitedly. "Putting me in as starting small forward is just to confuse the opponent. He's hiding Yang! Like last game — bring him in as the secret weapon when no one expects it!"
Yang raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Maybe Johnny had a point. Or maybe Gallagher really had gone off the deep end. Yang looked toward the coach at the far end of the court, who was barking orders with his usual intensity.
Conley and Oden listened to Johnny's theory and exchanged glances. As silly as it sounded, there was a logic to it. Johnny, the guy who usually stumbled through practice, might have hit the nail on the head.
Soon, the game tipped off, and Johnny took the court, trying to suppress the wave of nerves crashing through him. He stood opposite a forward nearly a foot taller and much broader in build. From the first possession, it became brutally clear — this was a mismatch of epic proportions.
Within two minutes, Johnny had been knocked to the floor twice and scored on three times. Each time he got up slower than the last. From the sidelines, Coach Gallagher watched intently, arms crossed, his face unreadable.
"Coach," Johnny gasped under his breath during a timeout, "I'm getting cooked out there."
But Gallagher gave no indication of pulling him. In fact, he didn't even respond. His eyes briefly flicked toward Yang Yan sitting on the bench, still calm, still watching.
Gallagher grunted. Let's see how long you can keep that composure.
He had a plan — one that involved more than just game strategy. Since Yang's first lackluster training session, Gallagher had been trying to figure him out. The boy had talent, no question. But he was too calm. Too detached. Too old in spirit for someone so young.
Gallagher believed Yang wasn't lacking in ability, but in fire. Hunger. He wanted to light that fire by making Yang watch his friends suffer on the court. Especially Johnny — his close friend. Surely seeing his buddy get crushed would wake something up in Yang.
But when he glanced back at him, Yang's face was blank. Almost serene.
"Damn it," Gallagher muttered under his breath. "What's wrong with this kid?"
Meanwhile, Yang wasn't nearly as unaffected as he looked. He had been staring quietly at his system interface, which had popped up like a translucent screen only he could see.
[At the age of 34, you successfully made your NCAA debut.][Though debuting at 34 in a college game defies all logic, it's still a start.][Now, to continue your path to the NBA, your next objective is:][Become a rotation player and play no less than 10 minutes in the next three consecutive games.][Reward: Random Skill Package – Subleague Tier.]
Despite the system's usual sarcasm, Yang focused on the mission. Playing over ten minutes in three straight games wouldn't be easy — not with Gallagher acting like a chess master from hell. Still, he had to find a way.
Back on the court, Ohio State was falling apart. The opposing team quickly picked up on Johnny's weakness and exploited it at every turn. Possession after possession, they isolated him and scored with ease. Even with Conley and Oden pushing the offense, it wasn't enough to make up for the defensive hole Johnny created.
Yang watched closely, heart sinking as he saw his friends struggle. Conley looked to the sideline more than once, silently pleading Gallagher to sub Johnny out. Oden too began to shake his head in frustration after each basket they conceded.
But Gallagher held firm, arms crossed, unmoving, unmoved.
The final whistle blew, and Ohio State had lost — to a second-rate team no less. The scoreboard didn't just show a defeat. It showed a breakdown of strategy, of morale, and most painfully, of trust.
Oden leaned against the backboard, drenched in sweat and disappointment. Just one game ago, they had taken down a top-tier team. Now this. It didn't make sense.
Johnny lay flat on the court floor, arms spread, staring at the lights above. His face was a mix of exhaustion, humiliation, and the dawning horror of realization.
He had thought being named a starter was a dream come true.
But now he knew — it was a trap.
Not a golden opportunity, but a gilded weight designed to crush him.