Everyone was shocked when Bruce said this.
It was common knowledge that Bruce wasn’t great at one-on-one play; he was a very traditional, college-style point guard.
Although Chris Patt was short, he relied heavily on one-on-one skills.
If the two of them faced off, Patt would certainly have the advantage.
So, Scott quickly interjected, “You’re both point guards.
If you’re going to compete, you should each lead a team in a full-court scrimmage.” Scott was Bruce’s best friend on the team, so naturally, he took Bruce’s side.
The other players echoed his sentiment.
Everyone liked Bruce and disliked the selfish Chris Patt—playing with him was a disaster; he only knew how to hog the ball and do everything himself, yet his individual skills weren’t even that impressive.
If he hadn’t been the cousin of star player TJ Walton, he would have been cut from the team long ago.
Now, he was accusing Jamie of playing favorites with Bruce, claiming Bruce was the one getting special treatment.
However, Chris Patt clearly didn’t want to be sidelined like that.
He quickly stepped forward, speaking in an exaggerated, sharp tone: “That won’t work!
TJ isn’t here right now, and the team needs someone to run the offense.
If he can’t even beat me, what right does he have to be Stanford’s starting point guard?
We’re in NCAA Division I!!” As if afraid of being intimidated by the crowd, he quickly invoked his cousin’s name again: “If TJ were here, he’d definitely agree with my proposal.” Seeing his haughty and arrogant attitude, Bruce looked at him with disdain.
It is disgusting for someone to accuse others of “nepotism” while constantly bringing up his own cousin—who happens to be a team leader—as a point of reference; this double standard perfectly illustrates the stupidity and spitefulness of certain Black individuals!
Bruce couldn’t be bothered to waste words on him.
He was quite confident in his current speed, even though Chrispat held a slight physical advantage.
However, with his height and speed advantage, taking him down would be no problem at all.
“Alright then—five-basket one-on-one!
Whoever loses has to sit quietly on the bench and stop yapping like a woman!” Bruce’s words were sharp and cutting.
This took Chris Patt by surprise.
He had always considered Bruce a good-natured guy, so he never expected him to issue such a challenge—had he lost his mind?
A moment later, however, he felt amused.
Believing Bruce was no match for him, he arrogantly declared, “Heh, I’m about to show you why the basketball court is dominated by Black players.
Even if you were the real Bruce Lee, I’d still crush you!
Waaah…
*wataah*!” As he spoke, he couldn’t resist deliberately mimicking Bruce Lee’s classic moves—a jab at the fact that Bruce’s English name was also Bruce.
Bruce shot him a cold glance and walked toward the center of the court.
Scott initially tried to talk him out of it, but seeing the firm expression and determination in Bruce’s eyes, he remained silent.
On the court, it is strength that does the talking.
Since my brother wants to prove himself through basketball, all I need to do is cheer him on and support him!
…
The duel between the two began immediately.
Chris Patt won the opening possession via a coin toss.
As soon as he got the ball, he couldn’t resist trash-talking: “It’s over, Bruce.
I’ll easily outscore you by five baskets…” But before he could finish his sentence, Bruce closed the distance at lightning speed.
This speed caught Patt completely off guard.
He couldn’t help but panic slightly; he never expected Bruce to be able to rush to his side from two steps away in the blink of an eye.
Scott, watching from the sidelines, was even more shocked; his eyes went wide.
He asked Thompson, the team’s star player standing next to him, “What did I just see?” Thompson was equally stunned, and right at that moment…
*smack!* Bruce actually slapped the ball right out of Chris Patt’s hands.
Patt was forced back toward the baseline with nowhere to go.
Just as he was about to jump and throw the ball at Bruce, Bruce swiftly snatched it away.
Then, he turned and charged toward the basket with unstoppable momentum, finishing with a one-handed layup.
As Bruce scored the layup, Chris Patt kept shouting: “Foul!
That was a foul!!” But he was met only with sharp glares and jeers from the players on the sidelines.
Everyone viewed him as a clown.
He showed absolutely no sportsmanship.
Wallace, the referee keeping track of the stats, bluntly told him: “That wasn’t a foul; the score is now 1-0.” Since Bruce had scored on the previous possession, Chris Patt retained possession of the ball.
This time, Chris Patt learned from his previous mistakes and played very cautiously, no longer acting recklessly.
However, Bruce stuck to him like a shadow.
Even when he accelerated to his top speed, he couldn’t shake Bruce off at all; even the cleaner sweeping the court could see that Bruce was faster than Patt!
Patt was short; his only asset was speed, yet even that had now been surpassed.
All he could do was circle the perimeter, then quickly jump up to shoot from the three-point line…
Clang!
The ball, predictably, missed.
He wasn’t known for his shooting, and his ball-handling and change-of-direction skills were lackluster, too; he was essentially a scrub who had made the team through connections and a sports scholarship.
But then, Bruce showed him what ideal ball-handling and change-of-direction looked like: at the top of the arc, Bruce used a wide lateral feint to evade Chris Patt’s heavy physical contact, paused briefly, and then executed a classic crossover that made Scott jump like a frog.
He then quickly drove into the paint for another layup…
Swish!
Players on the sideline were already shouting and cheering at the move.
“This isn’t even a contest,” Thompson said to Scott with a scoff.
“I don’t think Patt will score a single point!” “Yeah.
As Bruce picks up speed, Patt won’t stand a chance of physically pressuring him.
More importantly, I think Bruce has become the best playmaker around, and with that incredible speed of his…
tsk tsk, he could even rival TJ Walton, right?” Scott couldn’t help but make the comparison.
He had always admired Bruce.
He had never seen anyone handle the ball as skillfully as Bruce did, and his passing ability was truly phenomenal.
Whenever he received a pass from Bruce, the transition was seamless; he didn’t need to adjust—he could go straight up for the basket.
He used to think that if Bruce’s physical attributes were just a bit stronger, he would be the only Stanford player with a real shot at the NBA.
Now, the sudden emergence of Bruce’s lightning-fast speed stirred a wave of excitement within him.
This excitement stemmed not from the fact that Bruce had taught the ridiculous Chris Patt a lesson, but because it opened up a world of new possibilities.