Let’s catch him!] At 10:00 AM on February 28th, the Stanford men’s basketball team arrived at the USC arena for their warm-up session.
Scott was fired up for the upcoming game, constantly performing dunks.
As he put it himself, he couldn’t wait to showcase his talent, hoping to catch the eye of scouts and make his way into the NBA through this match.
What basketball player wouldn’t want to reach the pinnacle of the sport?
In contrast to Stanford’s enthusiastic warm-up, the USC team showed no reaction at all; their half of the court remained empty.
Although the game was scheduled for 3:30 PM that afternoon, they didn’t seem to be warming up whatsoever.
“Arrogant USC—they really don’t take us seriously,” Thompson said with annoyance.
Bruce patted him on the shoulder, offering a reassuring smile.
He couldn’t say much, though; Stanford’s current situation made it hard for anyone to take them seriously.
After all, the team hadn’t been strong to begin with, and with two key players injured and the head coach gone, why would anyone respect them?
After lunch, the team held a brief practice session together.
Just as everyone was getting ready to rest and refuel for the upcoming game, Bruce felt hungry again…
his appetite had been increasing over the past two days.
He headed to the restaurant next to the gym and quickly ordered five hamburgers.
While eating, he could clearly sense the man sitting across from him watching him.
The man was white, in his thirties, and exuded an air of authority and refinement.
Bruce assumed the man was surprised by his hearty appetite, so he quickly smiled, nodded, and whispered, “I don’t usually eat this much; please don’t be surprised.” His explanation made the man across from him laugh.
He asked, “Do you play for Stanford?” Bruce was genuinely surprised at how the man knew.
The man pointed to Bruce’s jersey.
Bruce quickly understood and then introduced himself confidently, “Hello, my name is Bruce Li; I’m a point guard for the Stanford Crimson.” “Hello, I’m Kevin George!
A scout for the San Antonio Spurs.” The white man also extended his hand to shake Bruce’s.
This took Bruce by surprise.
He hadn’t expected to run into the kind of NBA scout Scott was so eager to meet—let alone one from the San Antonio Spurs!
Wow!
And he was so young!
However, despite his surprise, Bruce didn’t seize the opportunity to brag or clamor for attention, knowing that professional matters should be left to the professionals.
Being overly eager with a stranger wasn’t a good look.
Kevin George was somewhat surprised by Bruce’s composure.
In many situations, once he revealed his NCAA affiliation to a player, the player would instantly change their attitude—treating him with enthusiasm or even sycophancy, and launching into a long-winded account of their background and basketball experience.
But this young man gave him a completely different impression.
His curiosity was piqued.
Kevin George was at this fast-food restaurant because he had arranged a meeting with USC’s starting point guard, Pruitt.
He was very interested in the player, believing that his physical attributes gave him a shot at the NBA.
If he could get to know him better—assessing his character and personality and ensuring he would fit the San Antonio locker room culture—he would recommend him to management and the coaching staff.
But now, it seems Pruitt doesn’t quite measure up to the Spurs’ standards.
They had agreed to meet at 10:30, yet it was already nearly 1:00 PM.
A lack of punctuality and disregard for agreements can truly test Gregg Popovich’s patience.
“So, are the burgers here really that good?” Kevin George, bored, struck up a conversation with bruce.
Bruce had just finished his second burger.
As he reached for his third, he replied, “Honestly, I don’t even know if this tastes good.
I’ve had an insatiable appetite for the last two days, and I need this to quiet my protesting stomach!” It was an amusing remark; Kevin George chuckled and said, “You eat so much, yet you’re so thin.
I’m honestly envious of your metabolism.” Bruce already had the third burger in his mouth; he didn’t have time to answer.
“Have a great afternoon.
I hope these burgers act like spinach for you and make you super strong.” Kevin George stood up and said goodbye to the amusing Stanford player.
He decided not to wait for Pruitt any longer.
Just then, however, a tall Black player walked in.
He was wearing a USC practice uniform, stood about 1.9 meters tall, and possessed a physique that was incredibly muscular for an NCAA player.
Yet, he looked exhausted—almost sleepy.
“Hey, bro.
So, you’re here!” He stepped over and gave Kevin George an enthusiastic hug, then said, “I’m really sorry.
Our coach was running a pre-game walkthrough and going over a lot of details for today’s match, so I couldn’t make it to our meeting on time—what a hassle!” He spoke quickly, but with zero sincerity.
Moreover, the smell of alcohol on his breath clearly betrayed his lie.
He was likely just hungover.
Most importantly, Bruce hadn’t seen any USC players practicing in the arena.
A really cheap lie.
However, neither Kevin George nor Bruce had any intention of calling him out on it.
By this point, Bruce was already eating his fifth hamburger and planned to finish it quickly…
and leave immediately.
He wasn’t in the habit of intruding on other people’s conversations.
But just as he was about to hurry up and finish his meal so he could leave, Pruitt asked in a strange tone, “Kevin, do you have an appointment with the Stanford players, too?” Her tone held a question and dissatisfaction, but above all, contempt.
Just as Bruce was about to answer, “We happened to be sitting together,” Kevin George said softly, “Yes, we were just having a casual chat.” Kevin expressed his dissatisfaction with Pruitt in his own way; in truth, he had no intention of continuing the conversation.
Pruitt felt the same way.
Upon seeing Bruce, he deeply doubted Kevin George’s professional judgment and was furious.
He felt that being paired with this unknown Stanford reserve player was a massive insult.
Just as Pruitt was about to explode, a voice suddenly popped into Bruce’s head: “Take him down!
Take him down!!” “This guy drinks heavily, does drugs, and…
partied all night.
He’s a truly shameless player; I’m going to strip him of his talent.
Take him down right now—I’ll snatch his talent!!” Huh?
Bruce, who was eating a hamburger, choked.
Take him down?
How?
“I don’t think we need to talk anymore, Mr.
George.
I don’t trust your professional judgment.
You can’t just pick players at random and equate them like this.
I’m USC’s starting point guard—I’m a Pacific League All-NBA First Team player!
Goodbye!” Pruitt said curtly and turned to leave.
Kevin George made no attempt to stop him—not even with feigned politeness—because he was convinced the Spurs didn’t need a player like that.
He simply glanced apologetically at Bruce, who was still choking on his hamburger: “I’m truly sorry for dragging you into this mess.” Bruce took a big gulp of water and swallowed the hamburger in his mouth.
Then, turning to Kevin George, he said, “From here on out, this is my war with him.” These words made Kevin George feel even guiltier.
He felt his earlier remark about dragging Bruce into the situation had been irresponsible.
He wondered how he could make amends to this poor Stanford guard.
But what he didn’t know was that this Stanford defender had a positive energy booster in his head, teaching him how to deal with Pruitt!