You are the pearl, Mo Mengchen

Chapter 32 Foresight
"Louis, how many balls do I have left?"

Mo Mengchen still didn't miss the shot. While shooting, he asked Louis M. Lore, who had memorized every goal.

Lore replied: "You have 30 balls left and that's enough."

"Alan, let's make a bet."

"What are you gambling?"

Mo Mengchen held the ball in his arms and said, "I will make the next 30 shots. If I make a shot, from today onwards, you can't ask me to buy water."

"What if you screwed up?" Although Mo Mengchen was in a brave state, he would feel burdened if he made an extra bet, right?Moreover, the team has introduced four rookies at one go this year. Even if he wins, he can just use other rookies in the future. What's the big deal?
Mo Mengchen said: "Conversely, you can order me as you like."

"Including giving me a massage?" Houston knew that Mo Mengchen was a doctor, so he must be good at massage.

"Yes." Mo Mengchen said.

"A deal!"

Then, Mo Mengchen's shot changed an arc.

His shooting arc was higher than before, but each ball flew into the air like a rainbow, hooked high, and then rolled into the basket.

Houston just needs to raise his hands, and the ball will fall into his palms.

This kind of control, this kind of touch, he has never seen before.

On the 30th ball, after Mo Mengchen made a shot, he turned around and picked up the juice on the ground.

The ball is in.

Houston stared blankly at Mo Mengchen, who had already turned around, and he could only see his back. This narcissistic and funny rookie is so fucking cute!

Mo Mengchen is gradually gaining popularity among this group of people. This is his goal. To control the team, he must win people's hearts first.

"Mo, if you only talk about open shots, you should be the most accurate shot I have ever seen." Dumars praised.

In fact, his open three-point shooting attribute is only 52. ​​As for why he is so accurate, he doesn't know. Maybe he really has a shooting talent.

Let his shooting have no dead ends first, this is his goal, this Pistons team is too short of shooters.

Although there is a first-class shooter like Houston, he mostly focuses on mid-range shooting, and the three-pointer is only an auxiliary. Dumars, an old gun, can barely count. It is a typical three-pointer but unstable.

After the shooting game, everyone dispersed.

Mo Mengchen saw Lynch Hunter, the owner of the number 9 jersey of the Pistons.

"Lynch,"

Mo Mengchen stopped him.

"You don't want to compare shooting with me, do you? I don't shoot that well." Hunter shook his head.

In the history that Mo Mengchen knew, although Hunter was not an All-Star, after he retired, he was known as a Piston star because he played for the Pistons for 12 seasons.

"I have something to discuss with you."

"what's up?"

Hunter is also very curious, this rookie who shines in the training camp, what can he do with him?

"I want to wear your number 9." Mo Mengchen said.

"This." Hunter said with a dry smile, "Mo, the number 9 has a special meaning to me. If you want it, I'm afraid you have to pay a price. There is an Italian saying that if you don't pay, you won't get it."

"What price?" Mo Mengchen asked.

Hunter said: "30, give me 30, and number 9 will be yours."

"If you give me No. 9, I will give you another thing." Mo Mengchen said.

Hunter would like to know what is more valuable than 30.

"what?"

"My friendship." Mo Mengchen said.

If my understanding is correct, he thinks his friendship is worth more than 30?Hunter thought that Mo Mengchen was bargaining, and he really didn't want 30, the price is negotiable.

In the NBA, some veterans like to cheat newcomers in different ways.

Some people with strange brain circuits invented such a method: at the end of the season, the team applies for a jersey change, and changes to a number that no one wears but is more popular. If a rookie proposes to change the jersey, he will take the opportunity to hit him.

Some people won't pay a dime for a jersey and some will.

"10, how about 10? This is my greatest concession." Hunter laughed.

"No, I don't need you to back down, you either get my friendship or 30, choose one."

"You really want to give me 30?"

Seeing the other party's surprised expression, Mo Mengchen finally said: "The money you asked for will be credited to your account tonight."

After saying that, Mo Mengchen turned and left.

It wasn't until much later that Hunter realized what a wrong decision he had made today.

It happened quietly.

Mo Mengchen didn't show off, and Hunter wouldn't be so stupid as to show off everywhere. After all, ripping off a rookie is not a glorious thing, and it's harmful to him.

That night, Mo Mengchen returned to the hotel and was doing upper body training while thinking about lyrics.

That's what he does when he has nothing to do.

Although there is a skill in his singer template, he can't think of any good lyrics for a while, so he can only continue to plagiarize the wisdom of later generations.

Fortunately, he used to listen to mostly English songs, and now he can just use them.

He immediately thought of Alan Taylor's "Some Dreams", which is his favorite song, with melodious melody, vicissitudes of life, and everything in life in just four and a half minutes.

He turned on the tape recorder and sang the song while exercising.

At nine o'clock, Mo Mengchen was sweating profusely. He opened the refrigerator specially prepared by the hotel, and there were some chicken, duck, fish and various noodles in it.

They will be training in Saint-Sumarie for a month. If he doesn't prepare these things himself, it means that he has to find a delicious, hygienic and passable restaurant every day, which is too difficult.

Even turning the entire state of Michigan upside down won't necessarily find thirty restaurants that fit the bill.

Mo Mengchen was about to make supper.

"Dong dong!"

Someone knocked on the door.

Mo Mengchen went to open the door and saw that it was Mark West, the big brother in the team, but he was not familiar with West.

It should be said that they did not even speak.

"Mo, I heard you're a doctor," said West.

"come in."

Mo Mengchen closed the door and asked, "What's uncomfortable?"

"My right knee is a little sore, and I don't think it's right," West said.

As I said before, although we cannot always know the changes in the body, once there is a problem, or the defense system in the body has collapsed, the body will give feedback.

If there is any problem, it will report it.

Smart people will be vigilant and pay attention to these problems.

West entered the league in 83. He has played for many years and is very sensitive to injuries.

"Does it hurt?"

"What about here?"

"How does it feel?"

Mo Mengchen pressed lightly from several positions, and West responded.

"Is there something wrong with my knee?" West asked.

"If every patient is as sensitive as you, the work pressure in the hospital will be greatly reduced." Mo Mengchen rarely praised people, "Stop training from tomorrow, go to the hospital for an examination, and then do an examination after the soreness disappears. The hospital confirms that there is no problem, and you can resume training."

Before coming, West checked Mo Mengchen's information, and he knew that this 22-year-old young man had absolute authority in this matter.

"I see, thank you, doctor." West smiled, "Is it okay to call you that?"

"can."

West left, and Mo Mengchen's suggestion prevented him from getting injured.

If he hadn't come to ask, he would have played with a sore right knee, and he would have missed [-] regular-season games as the injury worsened.

His vigilance, his sensitivity to injuries, saved him.

It's a pity that he is not at his peak anymore. If he is at his peak, he can make up for the shortage of the Pistons' defensive end in the penalty area.

The peak Mark West is a standard basketball leader who can contribute 11+8+2 per game. There are many players like him, but because they are not indispensable, frequent team changes are inevitable.

As the training camp unfolded, the competitive atmosphere became stronger and stronger.

In addition to those who have already received contracts, those players who have no contracts will even fight in the confrontation game in order to prove how manly they are in front of Collins.

The ultra-high-intensity confrontation game attracted the attention of Zhengxuan.

This group of people confronted as if they were enemies, and the assistant coach who acted as a referee did not stop them, allowing the intensity of the confrontation to slowly increase.

The training camp has been held for five days, and the regular picks who have returned to the team have slowly recovered their status.

Collins stared at the booing starters with a smile on his face, and suddenly called them to his side.

"It seems that you are all itchy."

"Let me see how your recovery is going."

Collins called everyone in front of them and distributed two teams, one was the blue team, consisting of Hill, Lynch Hunter, Michael Curry, Terry Mills and Eric Lechner.

The other is the red team, consisting of Mo Mengchen, Lore, Alan Houston, Red, and Theo Ratliff.

"I'm actually in a team with a group of rookies?"

"How about I trade with you?" Hill asked with a smile.

Houston snorted softly: "There's no need for that! Even with four rookies, I can beat you idiots!"

"I don't agree with you saying that." Hill smiled and changed into a blue jersey.

Houston took the jersey from the staff and approached Mo Mengchen: "Just give me the ball later."

Mo Mengchen didn't agree or refuse. He hasn't played a game for a long time, and he just took this game to test the training results of the past few months.

If there is no accident, his opponent will be Lynch Hunter. Judging by his lower body, his strength should not be strong.

Mo Mengchen's plan is to use the confrontation to defeat him, and by the way, let Collins, who is sitting on the mountain and watching the tiger fight, know that his current confrontation is not what it used to be.

"Be serious, don't expect me to blow the whistle, I will be a fair referee!"

Joe Dumars wasn't on any of the teams, and he looked like one in his referee uniform with a whistle in his mouth.

(End of this chapter)