radicalducati Chapter 172
Chapter 172
Lin Feng stopped and looked at his left hand.
Don't think about it.
That is the highest level.
He recalled Sun Jianguo's words about "muscle memory." Shooting should be practiced until it's so intuitive you can make a shot without thinking; dribbling should be practiced until you can get past an opponent without thinking. The essence of basketball is turning complex movements into instinct.
"Continue," he said.
I practiced for another twenty minutes.
The training hall opens at seven o'clock.
This morning's training focused on shooting – stationary shooting, moving shooting, and contact shooting.
Coach Li divided everyone into two groups, one practicing on the inner field and the other on the outer field. Lin Feng was assigned to the inner field, in a group with Gao Yuan and Chen Hao.
"Today we're practicing quick shots." Coach Li stood at the free-throw line, holding a ball. "From receiving the ball to releasing it, it can't exceed 0.5 seconds."
He demonstrated – bending his knee the instant he caught the ball, raising the ball to the release point, pressing down with his wrist, and flicking the ball with his fingers. The whole process was seamless, taking about 0.3 seconds from catching the ball to it leaving his hand.
"Provincial-level defense won't give you time to adjust. By the time you receive the ball, the defender is already closing in. You have to complete the shooting motion in an instant; there's no time to hesitate."
Lin Feng lined up and practiced one by one.
When it was his turn, he stood outside the three-point line, and Gao Yuan passed the ball to him.
He caught the ball, ready to shoot—but he was too slow. By the time the ball was above his head, Gao Yuan had already pounced on him, his hand reaching for his face. He had to raise the arc of the shot, and the ball bounced off the back of the rim.
"Slow down," Coach Li said. "Your catch and shot were disconnected. After receiving the ball, you paused for a moment before jumping. That pause was enough time for the defender to close in."
Lin Feng nodded and stepped back to the end of the line.
When it was his turn again, he deliberately sped up the pace—catch the ball, bend his knee, jump, and shoot without pausing. The ball's arc was high when he released it, but the direction was off; it hit the backboard and bounced to the side.
"It's too fast, but inaccurate. Your shooting motion is distorted. A fast shot doesn't mean sacrificing accuracy; it means increasing speed while maintaining accuracy. You need to find that balance."
The third time, the fourth time, and the fifth time.
On the eighth attempt, I finally made one.
The sound of the ball swishing through the net, a crisp, clear sound, echoed like the shattering of a glass in the empty training hall.
Coach Li didn't say anything, but made a note in his notebook.
Lin Feng continued practicing. Ninth time, he scored. Tenth time, he missed. Eleventh time, he scored. Twelfth time, he scored again. Thirteenth time, he missed.
The shooting percentage was about 50%. Better than yesterday, but far from meeting the provincial team's requirements.
Noon, canteen.
Lin Feng's plate was still piled high. Today he had an extra serving of pork rib soup, which he drank every last drop. He knew his body needed energy—the training intensity was too high, and he couldn't keep up without eating more.
Gaoyuan sat down with a tray piled with five steamed buns.
"Lin Feng, are you going to practice again this afternoon?"
"Add. Practice with your left hand."
Gao Yuan took a bite of his steamed bun and chewed. "I'll stay with you. I don't have anything else to do anyway."
Chen Hao sat quietly eating beside him. He ate a little more today than yesterday; after finishing a bowl of rice, he went to get another half bowl. Lin Feng noticed that he would adjust his glasses while eating, taking a bite and then adjusting them again, probably out of habit.
"Chen Hao, are you going this afternoon?" Gao Yuan asked.
Chen Hao looked up and thought for a moment. "Go. Practice shooting."
Gao Yuan was taken aback. "Don't you never do extra training in the afternoon?"