Having grown up in Chicago, Chen Yu’s strongest impression of the city was that it was covered in basketball courts.
Football and baseball needed a dedicated field, but basketball didn’t. A tiny patch of land and a hoop nailed to a wall was all it took to make a court.
Phoenix was the sa.
At the end of a street, about an eight-hundred-ter walk from Hardaway’s house, there was just such a small court, sandwiched between two low, red-brick buildings. An overpass stood not far away, and the space beneath it was a haven for the holess. As a result, the area was seedy and attracted all sorts of people.
The court was surrounded by a dilapidated iron fence. The walls on both sides were covered in all kinds of graffiti, and the lines painted on the ground had long since beco faded and indistinct.
Under the night sky, a dim yellow streetlight flickered. Chen Yu walked alone, warily crossing the minefield of a street and repeatedly turning down the enthusiastic invitations from several scantily clad won in the darkness.
Just as he reached the court’s entrance, a tall, dark figure erged from behind a long-defunct vending machine across from him, giving Chen Yu a start.
"Snow, you’re going to give soone a heart attack doing that." Seeing who it was, Chen Yu grumbled under his breath.
It was Hardaway’s personal bodyguard.
He was supposedly one of Hardaway’s distant cousins. Chen Yu couldn’t say whether he was a professional, but he was certainly huge. If he were in a movie, he’d be the type to jump in front of his employer to take a bullet—and he was probably big enough to soak up a full magazine.
Snow grinned, revealing a set of white teeth that seed to float in the darkness. He pointed toward the court, then retreated back into the shadows.
Chen Yu walked onto the court.
On two rows of rusty tal bleachers by the fence, a person sat as still as a statue.
Chen Yu walked over and, by the dim light, hesitated for a good mont before picking a spot to sit down.
"What, you think it’s dirty? Right. How could an elite like you, from a rich family, understand the lives of people like us," Hardaway sneered, his tone aggressive.
Chen Yu was stunned. ’Rich?’
’That’s a low blow.’
’I’m saddled with hundreds of thousands in loans, while you’re making millions a year. You have the nerve to call rich?’
’And another thing—your leg is injured, but there’s nothing wrong with your eyes, right? Can you seriously not see how filthy these bleachers are?’
’There’s gum pressed into the planks, old bloodstains oxidized to a deep black, and other stains I can’t even identify. Can’t I just pick a clean spot to sit down?’
But Chen Yu didn’t argue. Instead, he went along with Hardaway’s line of thinking and asked, "So what are the lives of ’people like you’ like?"
Before this, Chen Yu hadn’t paid much attention to Hardaway, only recalling that the dia had said he ca from a poor background.
But that was basically the story for the entire NBA Alliance. How many Hills or Lambiers were there, after all?
Hardaway curled his lip. "What else could it be? Just the boring story of a poor kid from Binghamton, a burden born from a night of passion between two irresponsible assholes, who was then thrown away like trash and had a tough ti growing up with only basketball for company."
Chen Yu raised an eyebrow slightly. ’You’re quite good at summarizing.’
’That story could apply to at least thirty percent of the players in the Alliance.’
"That’s it?" Chen Yu asked in return.
Hardaway frowned, not sure what else to say.
Chen Yu said, "Shouldn’t you talk about how you fell in love with basketball? How you beca the greatest player at Toledo High School and the number one high school player in the nation? Or how you, Hill, and the others put those old-tirs on the Dream Team in their place?"
"And finally, how you entered the Alliance hailed as the next Magic Johnson, and how, in just two seasons, you made Michael himself say that you were his successor?"
Chen Yu let out a long breath, his tongue nearly tying itself in knots from talking so much.
Hardaway stared at Chen Yu, bewildered. "What exactly are you trying to say?"
Chen Yu looked up at the night sky. The moon was bright, the stars were sparse—the desert sky over Phoenix was exceptionally beautiful.
"You called a rich guy. Want to hear my story?" Chen Yu asked. Without waiting for Hardaway to reply, he began, "I was born in New York Manhattan. Just like you said, I grew up in a luxury apartnt. From my room, I had a clear view of the towering Twin Towers."
"My father was a respected surgeon at New York-Presbyterian Hospital. And my mother, she had her own office on Pick Street. Oh, right, she was a lawyer. In court, she was sharp-tongued and eloquent, but at ho, she was gentle and understanding. In her free ti, she took cooking classes and baked the most delicious brownies."
"I went to an elite private school. My best friend was nad Nick; his father worked for a major investnt bank on Wall Street. We loved to go for long-distance runs together after school. And then, just as you’d imagine, I grew up without a care in the world. I took my father’s letter of recomndation, got into his alma mater, Cornell University dical College, and beca a respected doctor, just as my parents wished."
In the darkness, Hardaway let out a cold snort. ’Of course. It’s exactly as I imagined.’
’These damned rich elites. We’re not from the sa world at all. How could they possibly understand my pain?’
"Wrong."
Chen Yu’s sudden, sharp cry made Hardaway flinch. Then he said, "Anfernee, do you ever read the newspaper? If you did, you wouldn’t have believed any of that bullshit."
User Comments
0 comments from readers