The Best Point Guard-Chapter 83 - 17: Clay Chickens and Pottery Dogs, Not Worth Mentioning

This only allowed Su Xi to stick right to him. Banks quickly pulled the ball in, trying to protect it and wait for help... but just then, Su Xi’s long arm reached around him... SMACK!

He viciously slapped the ball at Banks’s chest... and it immediately came loose from Banks’s grasp.

Banks scrambled to pick up the ball, but Su Xi had already turned, scooped it up, and was gone. He dribbled down the court with Banks in hot pursuit. After a few steps, Su Xi passed the ball to the center, number 121, in the corner. The man was wide open... SWISH!

He made the shot.

In two straight possessions, Su Xi had completely shut Banks down.

The various scouts on the sidelines nodded. Now they could see the difference between Su Xi and Banks.

An MOP truly is an MOP.

"What day is it today?" Su Xi asked Banks.

Banks was a little slow to react.

"Oh, right. It’s Wednesday, and we’re in Chicago," Su Xi reminded Banks. "Didn’t you say you were stronger than me, faster than me, a better playmaker, and a better defender? That whether it was in New York or Las Vegas, Monday or Sunday, you’d be ready for me anytime? So come on, Marcus Banks. What are you waiting for?"

Su Xi flipped through the little notebook from James every now and then.

Su Xi knew what Banks had said better than Banks himself.

Banks hadn’t expected Su Xi to be lying in wait like this. He instantly grew even more furious and flustered.

He took the ball again. This time, Su Xi didn’t apply a full-court press.

He retreated to the top of the three-point arc.

On the sidelines, O’Connor was hyping up his employer. "See that, Tom? That’s my boss! Just look over there. Isn’t he the most handsome, dashing, and charismatic guy on the court? Even on the set of an adult film, if everyone stripped naked, he’s the one your eyes would land on first."

"I’ve told you before, if you’re looking for a tractor spokesperson, he’s your best bet. Everyone in America knows that people who drive tractors love watching the NBA. And he’s the best player in college basketball. Look at that poor sap across from him. He’s getting wrecked by my boss, like some kind of fancy rope bondage session..."

Tom cut O’Connor off with a laugh. "Mike, does your boss know you used to work in adult films? Or that you were an agent for several porn stars?"

O’Connor proudly lifted his chin, his goatee fluttering in the air. "That’s not important. What’s important is what I can bring to my boss now. For instance, you, Tom. Are you really going to give that contract to some other nobody? Instead of my boss?"

"That ’nobody’ is currently getting wrecked by your boss," Tom said honestly. "In fact, he was the one who asked me to film his heroic performance. I think I can probably turn the camera off now."

O’Connor’s eyes lit up when he heard that. He sensed an opportunity and quickly stopped Tom. "No, Tom. Listen, keep filming. Now I get why he wanted this recorded. He must have thought he was going to destroy my boss. But look what happened—my boss destroyed him instead! Heh heh. I can send this to the media, make my boss famous."

’Media? What media? The only media contacts you have are for the late-night pay-per-view channels!’

Tom complained internally, but he was more than willing to go along with O’Connor’s suggestion.

But Banks was completely tilted.

He ignored the shouts from his agent, Todolama, on the sidelines. Lamasa was yelling at him to pass the ball out, to give it to Davis.

Lamasa knew this gym was full of scouts. He knew Banks was on a path to destroying his own future.

But, Banks couldn’t stop.

He tried to force his way through Su Xi’s defense, but his pull-up jumper under heavy defensive pressure turned into a wild airball.

Su Xi brought the ball past half-court, calm and unhurried. He handled Banks’s aggressive pressure with ease. His strength in contact kept him steady as a rock, and his superb ball-handling was so tight that Banks couldn’t even get a finger on it. Banks’s defense posed no threat to him at all.

Su Xi and Arenas executed a perfect give-and-go. He passed to Arenas, then cut hard to the baseline. Using a screen from the number 121 center, he got the ball back and shot... SWISH!

Another three-pointer.

Su Xi’s shooting form left every scout in the building stunned and delighted.

Because Su Xi used his left hand.

Su Xi had perfectly mimicked Michael Redd’s shooting form.

While the intensity of this scrimmage wasn’t enough to prove Su Xi could be this composed in the NBA...

...it proved one thing, at least: Su Xi was proficient with both hands. He could develop a far wider range of offensive skills than the average player.

The NBA doesn’t always demand immediate, ready-to-play talent. But if a prospect shows jaw-dropping potential, teams will be ecstatic.

This one three-point shot from Su Xi would soon become a major highlight on the scouting reports placed on the desks of general managers and head coaches across the league. It was a skill Su Xi had never demonstrated before.

Grover, the master trainer, was beaming with pride. ’Take flight, my second-generation God of Basketball,’ he thought. ’Go and survey your domain, step onto your battlefield. You will be unstoppable! I will be right behind you, guarding your back!’

Michael Redd, playing as an opponent, gave Su Xi a high-five. "Jack, so you really have been secretly learning our techniques all this time. But, your wrist flick needs to be a little more natural."

"Got it."

Su Xi responded.

Then, he walked towards Banks. "You lost me on a simple cut like that. Is that all you’ve got?"

Those words hit Banks as hard as if his girlfriend had asked him in bed last week, "You’re done already?"