The Golden Age of Basketball-Chapter 314 - 52 Quentin

Gan Guoyang hit the three-pointer, leaving The Warriors with only 2 seconds to execute their final attack.

The Warriors had no timeouts left, and there wasn’t enough time.

At the last moment, Floyd threw the ball haphazardly. It didn’t even touch the basket, and the game ended. Gan Guoyang had successfully made a three-point buzzer-beater against The Warriors.

Back in the locker room, everyone was ecstatic. Coming back from a 5-point deficit with two consecutive difficult three-pointers to take the game was a hard-earned victory.

As soon as Jack Ramsey entered the locker room, Gan Guoyang and Vandeweghe rushed over to lift him up in celebration.

"Stop clowning around! Put me down! Put me down! You two little rascals!"

Finally on the ground, Ramsey dusted off his clothes with disgust and complained, "If you hadn’t played so horribly earlier, would we have needed to take such a risk at the end? It’s as if the All-Star break made you too relaxed! Your defense was a mess, and the offense was so-so. We can’t always be this lucky!"

Gan Guoyang said with a smile, "Dr. Jack, your strategy for the three-pointers was too good."

"Shut up. If you like shooting threes so much, why don’t you go to the three-point contest?"

"I thought I’d leave a chance for the older generation to take first place."

This year’s All-Star Game featured the three-point contest for the first time, with Larry Bird taking the championship.

He also offered his competition some end-of-life care in the locker room before the game: "Are you all here fighting for second place?"

Gan Guoyang had wanted to sign up, but fearing for Ramsey’s blood pressure, he chose not to participate.

However, with Bird winning the championship, next year Gan Guoyang was surely going to participate and bring Jordan along.

Exiting the locker room, Gan Guoyang saw his waiting brother Gan Guohui and asked, "So, have you thought it through?"

Gan Guohui nodded, "I have. I’m going to New York. I want to start a new life."

Gan Guoyang asked, "What about your girlfriend? Does she agree with you going to New York?"

"I don’t have a girlfriend anymore. We just broke up."

"What? You kid, you’re starting a new life by kicking out the old one first?"

"No, it’s not that! Lisa and I weren’t right for each other, and it took me a long time to make this decision. Rather than dragging it out, it’s better to make a clean break and focus entirely on learning something new."

Gan Guoyang strongly agreed with this. Matters of the heart were worst when dragged out, it’s better to be clear-cut – good together, good apart, there’s nothing wrong with that.

"You go back and get ready, talk to your parents and grandfather, clear things up with them. Buy a ticket for next week to New York. I’ll notify someone to receive you there; just follow Mr. Fleisher’s arrangements when you get there. If you have any major difficulties, come to me, but I won’t help you with the small issues of life and work, you have to rely on yourself for those."

"No problem!"

Gan Guohui looked forward to his new life with anticipation.

And Gan Guoyang hoped that his brother could grow up and be independent in the future.

Things like financial and investment matters were still best entrusted to someone familiar.

Right now, Gan Guoyang’s assets weren’t that substantial, but as the scale grew larger, it would inevitably require professional individuals and teams for management.

In America during the 80s and 90s, saying that there was gold everywhere was not an exaggeration, especially in San Francisco, where countless wealth myths would be created in the future.

Gan Guoyang wasn’t overly obsessed with money, but he knew money could bring freedom, and he liked freedom.

However, when you become a superstar, you and true freedom inevitably grow further apart.

Gan Guoyang thought that tonight would be just a regular game, secure a win, head back to the hotel for a shower and a good night’s sleep, and catch a morning flight back to Portland.

But when he and his teammates came out of the locker room and headed to the parking lot, they realised the hallway was jam-packed with fans, completely impassable.

A large number of fans—mostly Chinese-American female fans—were waiting for Gan Guoyang, hoping to shake hands with their idol and get an autograph.

This scene reminded Gan Guoyang of the crazy fans of Hong Kong and Taiwan music stars from the 80s. He was sure that without security guards, his team jersey would be torn to shreds by these frenzied fans.

There had already been several such incidents before, forcing the team to make several sets of home and away jerseys and tracksuits for Gan Guoyang.

In the early years, NBA teams were quite poor. Players’ jerseys had to be custom-made, with only a few sets available per person, especially the away jerseys sometimes had only one.

If a jersey got torn, lost, or stolen, you might not be able to play in the game or have to wear an alternative one as a temporary replacement.

This kind of thing actually happened in the NBA; Gan Guoyang, Jordan, and others had encountered it.

Because they were so famous, sometimes the arena staff would steal their jerseys.

In unprepared situations, without spare jerseys, they had to play the game wearing a different jersey.

Although Gan Guoyang wanted to maintain close contact with his fans, for the safety of his jersey, he greeted the fans and signed autographs for some while asking the team to get in touch with the arena’s security to maintain order so that the players could safely get on the bus and leave.

Soon, Oakland Arena’s security team arrived, and with them came Nate-Sermonde.

Gan Guoyang was delighted to see Sermonde, gave him a hug, and expressed his regret that he couldn’t join the Christmas gathering.

"Hope next year the League won’t schedule a Christmas game for you guys again; you have to come then. Wilt says he still wants to arm-wrestle with you."

"Wilt must be crazy; he’s definitely no match for me now."

"It doesn’t matter, he thinks he can still beat you even at the age of 50."

Chamberlain was still as blindly confident as ever.

The court security maintained order and cleared a path for the players to get on the bus.

Gan Guoyang was the last to leave, signing autographs for the crazed fans.

A few female fans even lifted their shirts, asking Guoyang to sign on their bared breasts.

San Francisco Area retained a strong hippie legacy, and whether it was because of Simon, Walton, or Guns N’ Roses, Guoyang was very popular among this group of wild youths, especially the female fans, much more than the average NBA star.

Guoyang figured it was mainly because he was rather handsome.

Chanting "do not look if it’s indecent, do not look if it’s indecent" in his heart, he then left his autograph on those skins, either smooth or slightly hairy.

"Hey, Sonny."

Suddenly, someone called out to Gan Guoyang.

Guoyang looked down and scanned across those diverse breasts, spotting a security guard trying to keep the order.

He was African American, tall and somewhat overweight, and looked young, about Guoyang’s age.

He looked somewhat familiar.

"You are... I think I know you."

"Quentin, I’m Quentin, Quentin Stephenson."

Upon hearing the name, Guoyang remembered; this guy was one of the Twin Towers of Washington High School, Quentin Stephenson!

The same one whom Guoyang blew past on the court but later almost managed to break Guoyang’s nerves through "reversed flattery," almost turning the tables on him.

"How come... didn’t you continue playing basketball?"

"I played two years in community college but couldn’t go on, so... I came back to San Francisco and found a job. Sonny, you are really amazing..."

"Oh no no no, don’t flatter me, I can’t take it. How are you doing now? You look much stockier than before."

"After I left the team, I couldn’t control my weight... so glad to see you."

"Me too. Leave your phone number, Quentin; maybe you can help me with something."

"Oh! Can I? No problem, absolutely no problem!"

The two were competitors in the San Francisco League in high school. Just a few short years later, their situations were worlds apart.

One became an All-America basketball superstar, while the other ended up being a court security guard, struggling to make ends meet.

Stephenson, of course, had noticed Guoyang for a while. As Guoyang hit the game-winner against the Warriors, Stevenson had mixed feelings.

As security, he couldn’t even face the court; he had to face the stands.

When the Trail Blazers took their last shot, he could not witness it; when he saw the euphoria of the fans, their passionate cheers, he knew Ah Gan had performed another miracle.

In the deafening cheers, he felt especially small, even though he was 6 feet 8 inches tall and weighed 280 pounds.

He still played basketball, hitting the streets and gyms every week to play, a member of an amateur team in San Francisco. By day he worked as a security guard, and by night he played basketball to make money and support his family.

In the parking lot, he called out to Guoyang on a whim, not knowing if Guoyang would still remember him, his former opponent.

The guy was now a superstar, high and mighty. Quentin didn’t harbor any other thoughts, just wanted to talk to his former rival out of admiration.

He didn’t expect Guoyang to take his phone number, even less did he anticipate that two days later, he would receive a call from Guoyang.

"Quentin, I have a job in Portland that might be perfect for you. Are you interested?"

"What job?"

"Being my bodyguard."

"Your bodyguard? I definitely can, no problem!"

"But you need to lose some weight; although a broad physique is good for blocking bullets, you need to be more agile. 6 feet 8 inches and 280 pounds is too much. Drop down to 250 pounds and come find me in Portland. Of course, you need to pass an interview and a probation period; I might not hire you, I hope you understand."

"I know, thanks for giving me a chance. Oh, let me praise you, Ah Gan. You are like..."

"Stop, stop, stop... Focus on losing weight, Quentin. 30 pounds isn’t easy."