The No.1 Anti-Fans in Basketball-Chapter 95 - 86th - : The Fisherman

Two days later, the Cavaliers hosted the Bobcats at their home court.

Jamison was making his debut with the Cavaliers.

Brown hadn’t quite figured out how to handle the ball issues yet, and he didn’t start Jamison in this game.

That wasn’t much of a problem, considering Jamison had been with the team for a short time; he probably hadn’t even gotten to know all his teammates yet, much less the tactics.

However, his decision led to an unexpected outcome.

Originally, the Bobcats spent two months contemplating before finally choosing Henderson, but less than a month into the season, they gave up on the idea of Henderson playing a core role and traded him for "Martial Saint" Stephen Jackson from the Warriors.

Jackson, after arriving at the Bobcats, received a career-high average of 17.8 shots per game, also scoring a career-high average of 21.1 points per game.

His efficiency wasn’t notably high, but he could handle the ball and score at crucial moments, effectively strengthening the team.

Thus, with Tyson Chandler commanding the inside, Gerald Wallace and Boris Diaw leading the front line, Jackson handling the outside, and the technologically mature rookie Raymond Felton, the Bobcats had become a playoff-caliber team.

Moreover, their setup boasted fierce defensive capabilities; as long as their offensive forms were good, they could beat anyone.

Then, that night, they shot 54.7% from the field and 47.4% from three-point range and grabbed 10 more rebounds than the Cavaliers, ultimately defeating the Cavaliers 110-101.

This performance wasn’t something the Bobcats could consistently replicate; it was a low-probability event. However, more noteworthy than the game’s outcome was Jamison’s performance.

During this game, Jamison played 26 minutes off the bench and delivered one of the worst performances of his career.

He shot 0 for 12 from the field, 0 for 4 from three, managing to score only 2 points and grab 7 rebounds with free throws.

At the post-game press conference, Hansen and James appeared together.

James had scored 22 points, grabbed 3 rebounds, and dished out 9 assists, while Hansen contributed 18 points, 3 rebounds, 1 assist, and 4 steals.

"There’s nothing wrong with Antoine, his body and sense are great, I’m very clear about this, we just need some time to mesh," James justified his team’s new addition when reporters questioned Jamison’s performance. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

Hansen, listening on the side, felt something off.

On closer reflection, he realized James’s rhetoric, barely altering words, had only shifted the spotlight from O’Neal to Jamison.

He knew the script all too well.

"Han, how long do you think Jamison will need to adapt to the team?" Similar questions were also tossed to Hansen by the reporters.

After such an atrociously bad game, it was difficult for Hansen to dodge these inquiries.

"He’s a veteran who has played in the League for 11 or 12 seasons; he merely had some issues with his shooting touch tonight. I think he’ll bounce back next game," Hansen expressed unwavering confidence in Jamison.

After the press conference, Hansen returned to the locker room.

Jamison sat quietly in the corner.

According to David Griffin, that was supposed to be a calm spot, but now it seemed somewhat desolate.

Especially compared to two days ago when he had just arrived at the team.

But that’s reality—laden with high expectations, or traded for an All-Star who performed poorly, don’t expect your teammates to look cheerfully upon you.

James returned to the locker room and merely glanced at Jamison before heading off to shower on his own.

Hansen, on the other hand, went straight to Jamison.

"Let’s train together later."

Jamison looked at Hansen and nodded.

On the training court, Hansen and Jamison engaged in intense physical contention.

Despite Jamison’s poor spirits, Hansen didn’t hold back, and both were drenched in sweat by the end of the extra training session.

However, unlike two days ago, Hansen could feel that Jamison was anxious; many of his technical moves were distorted.

This had already been evident in tonight’s game.

His reaction was likely tied to Brown’s strategies.

Before this, Jamison had only come off the bench during his rookie season and the 03-04 season with the Mavericks when he was named the Sixth Man of the Year.

It wasn’t just because he was new and not yet familiar with the team’s tactics that he was playing off the bench; if he continued to perform badly for several more games, Jamison would lose his chance to start.

This would, however, save Brown the hassle of sorting out the ball-handling issues.

But sometimes, the more you rush, the worse you perform.

So, besides adjusting his form, what Jamison needed more at this moment was a mental shift.

Hansen realized this after the extra training, but he wasn’t a psychologist.

And if you told Jamison "More haste, less speed," he wouldn’t even know what tofu is.

"Do you have free time tomorrow afternoon?" Hansen asked.

Brown had previously come to the locker room to announce routine training in the morning and video analysis at night the following day; no plans were made for the afternoon.

"What time should I come to the arena?" Jamison immediately nodded.

"The arena? No, I’ll take you somewhere."

Jamison looked puzzled. It wasn’t training?

"You don’t need to do anything tomorrow; just come with me after the training."

Although still curious, Jamison nodded again.

When everyone distances themselves due to your poor performance, but one person treats you just as before, that person can win your trust.

The next day, after the training, Hansen drove Jamison to the place.

"This is?"

Watching the shallow bay in front of him and listening to the sound of the waves hitting the rocks, Jamison was baffled.

Hansen called him over to the car to move some stuff.

Soon after, the two found a great spot, set up an umbrella, rigged their fishing poles, and sat down on a bench to start... fishing.

The last time he and Swift had visited Reunion Tower, Swift had suggested he find a way to relieve stress; fishing was the first thing that came to mind.

This hobby from his past life truly needed no cultivation.

Moreover, fishing wasn’t uncommon in the United States; many players went fishing during the off-season.

Jamison, with a helpless expression, would have preferred to be training in the gym with Hansen at that moment.

And there was another thing...

"Why are we wearing helmets while fishing?" The weather was quite cool, but it still seemed more appropriate to wear a hat.

Hansen coughed twice and casually explained, "There are seagulls around here; you wouldn’t want to get bird poop on your head."

Jamison looked skeptical.

"How did you get the scar on your face?" Hansen changed the subject.

Although it was a fairly private question, Jamison wasn’t upset and calmly shared the story.

"When I was young, I saw freshly fried chicken legs on the table. As a child, that aroma was irresistible. I was too short and had to pull over a stool to reach them. I didn’t expect the stool to be unstable, and I ended up hitting the table corner."

Hansen nodded as he listened; he could relate to the experience.

"When I was a kid, I never fell while trying to steal chicken legs, but I did like to catch bugs—those orange-bodied ones with seven little black spots, like a button."

"Ladybug, the seven-spot ladybug." Jamison unexpectedly knew about the bug, to Hansen’s surprise.

Wait, do they have these bugs in the United States too?

"I’ve caught them too, and also nearly fell once," replied Jamison, confirming such bugs did indeed exist in the United States.

"Ha ha, you only nearly fell, but I actually did fall. I climbed about seven or eight feet high, reached out to grab one, then fell down, screaming in pain."

The story made Jamison burst out laughing.

"But we’re both lucky: you only got a scar without hurting your eye, and I only dislocated a shoulder without breaking a bone."

Having lived through two lifetimes, Hansen knew very well the importance of finding common ground in communication.

The helpless expression on Jamison’s face had disappeared; now, he felt incredibly comfortable being with Hansen.

As time passed and they talked, finally, Jamison’s fishing rod twitched.

Jamison had never fished before, but under Hansen’s guidance, he did everything correctly and after a struggle, he reeled in the fish.

It was a sea bass, weighing at least three or four pounds.

When he finally caught the fish, Jamison experienced the joy of fishing for the first time.

Meanwhile, Hansen got up and went back to the car, then brought out the shrimp paste they had prepared in advance.

Fishing, especially sea fishing, doesn’t necessarily require baiting the spot, but it still depends on what you catch.

For example, bass and barracuda, which feed in groups—you must bait the spot if you catch them.

It looked like they wouldn’t have any trouble catching fish today.

As the sun set, they began packing up their gear to head home.

Their catch was... a whole big bag full of sea bass.

Most of these were caught by Jamison, not because he had a great talent for fishing, but it seemed he had activated some novice protection; the fish kept biting his hook.

"How should we handle them?" It was only on the car ride home that Jamison thought about what to do with the fish.

It’s naturally uncomfortable, but catching too many can also be a hassle.

After all, they’re from the sea. They can’t be kept alive, and they definitely couldn’t eat them all.

"We’ll go back to the home court," Hansen already had a solution in mind.

When the car arrived back at Quicken Loans Arena, Hansen and Jamison carried an oxygen tank into the locker room.

The Cavaliers players had mostly arrived by then and looked on curiously at their actions.

"Guys, this is what Antoine and I caught this afternoon—mostly Antoine, actually," Hansen said, opening the tank lid.

Upon seeing the lively sea bass inside, the locker room erupted in astonishment.

Hansen knew quite well that many players enjoyed fishing and understood the value of catching so many fish.

Some were already giving Jamison thumbs up.

Showing off wasn’t the point; Hansen had prepared bags to distribute the fish to everyone.

For NBA players worth millions, fish didn’t amount to much, but the joy derived from catching a big fish and sharing it was rare.

It was clear that the locker room’s attitude toward Jamison was much warmer than it had been the day before.

After distributing the fish, Malone called everyone to the video room.

"Thank you," Jamison sincerely thanked Hansen on the way.

Though he hadn’t immediately realized what Hansen was planning, born and raised in North Carolina, he definitely understood by now.

Hansen wasn’t just helping him relieve stress, but also helping him build relationships.

Just like when Hansen had faced O’Neal’s gift of a car before, words couldn’t fully express his feelings; he had to condense them into the shortest possible phrase.

Hansen just smiled, said nothing, and patted Jamison on the shoulder with force, like a true friend.

The benefits from the previous training session were profound, but as a colleague, Jamison had no obligation to keep training with him.

But if they were friends, that was a different matter altogether.