Chapter 921: Chapter 1 Anti-Gan Alliance
[In 1991, after losing to the Los Angeles Lakers in the playoffs, my wife, kids, and I returned to Spokane to enjoy the summer.
We had a good season and performed well in the playoffs, but we just couldn’t climb over the mountain that was the Los Angeles Lakers.
Magic Johnson is the greatest Point Guard, and the gap between us wasn’t just about height.
I hadn’t prepared myself to step into the offseason yet because if we could have gotten past the Lakers, I would’ve faced Ah Gan in the semifinals.
Sadly, I let myself down once again. It made me upset, feeling that my basketball career still had a long way to go before I could call it complete.
But in the end, I accepted the early elimination and decided to adjust my training plan during the offseason, making some changes to both my body and technique to recover from this loss.
Coach Sloan made me understand that at this stage of my career, recovery is more important than training every single day.
After all, not everyone is Ah Gan. His training load has been the same for over ten years, like a machine that only gets smoother with use.
The 1991 season once again belonged to him and the Portland Trail Blazers. I watched every game and witnessed their fifth championship in Portland.
In July, Ah Gan and I went back to Spokane together to take part in the annual celebration of "Gan Guoyang Day" held there.
The townsfolk erected a new statue for him. Although it didn’t look much like him, Ah Gan still smiled, accepted it, and attended the unveiling ceremony.
I joined Ah Gan for one last basketball summer league in Spokane, which caused a sensation locally. Ah Gan is now a true basketball superhero.
But after the league ended, Sloan called me and told me not to participate in such amateur games in the summer anymore, to avoid injury.
I also ended my softball career, retiring from Jack and Dan’s softball team, and fully committed myself to basketball training and physical recovery.
Ah Gan is a very busy man. After the summer league, he quickly left to attend countless business and social events.
I envied Ah Gan’s accomplishments on the court and his astonishing basketball skills, but I didn’t envy his lifestyle.
I spent most of my free time during the summer at the lake with Nada and the kids.
I’m not someone who loves sunbathing. I prefer to spend my free time doing physical labor—chopping wood, splitting logs, and stacking firewood.
If the weather permitted, I would go water skiing; if it got windy, I’d mountain bike, jog, or try windsurfing.
Following me, the kids quickly learned all these sports—they’re naturally athletic.
At the same time, to maintain my basic basketball skills, I’d lift weights and shoot pinecones into trash cans.
I didn’t need any fancy equipment or devices—just simple activities to keep my touch.
Exploration, play, creative activities, tracking wild animals in the forest, telling scary bedtime stories by the campfire, and so on.
These carefree times created cherished memories of our family life. Apart from werewolves and Bigfoot, the kids’ favorite stories were the legendary tales of Ah Gan during his college days.
My eldest son Houston’s room was covered with Ah Gan posters, each one autographed by Ah Gan himself.
Later, he said his admiration for Ah Gan came from those fascinating legendary stories—the guy really is a legend.
After the kids fell asleep, Nada and I would sit by the campfire, chatting while watching the stars and the northern lights overtake the daylight.
When we weren’t at the lake, we’d stay at home or visit my parents. During that time, I was still incrementally renovating my house. I didn’t want to spend too much money all at once—not my style. I’d hunt for cheap but suitable furniture and materials to gradually bring home.
On one uneventful day, as I was considering going to the second-hand market to buy some decent sofa cushions and table pads, the phone rang.
It rang several times, but I had no intention of picking it up. I don’t like people calling me—every phone call always seems to bring some kind of trouble.
The phone wouldn’t stop ringing, as if it was determined not to give up. So I had no choice but to answer it.
"John, this is Rod Thorn from the NBA office."
Damn, Thorn. This couldn’t be good—every time he called, it was to inform me about fines.
A few years ago, I had called his office to discuss my first-ever technical foul.
I told him, "Yes, I did swear at the ref, but I was just using it as an adverb."
He laughed—it was the first time he’d ever heard that kind of explanation.
If he had known Ah Gan earlier, he would’ve heard it plenty by now.
Every time Ah Gan swore, he claimed it was just an interjection or an adverb, purely to express emotion, not meant as an insult.
The good news was, Thorn accepted my explanation and waived my fine.
That practically saved my life—I didn’t want to get fined.
After that, I became extra careful not to use "adverbs" so lightly again.
This time, Thorn wasn’t calling about a fine. Instead, he brought good news.
"Congratulations, John. You’ve been selected as a representative player for the 1992 Barcelona Olympics U.S. national team."
I was so excited that I didn’t know what to say at first. After a pause, I heard, "Are you interested?"
All I could do was stammer, "You... you’re serious?"
"Why else would I be calling? Just to joke with you?"
I never expected to really make it onto the Olympic roster.
During the regular season, Ah Gan had mentioned it to me, saying that if I were on the Olympic team’s list, he would make sure I got to play in the Olympics.
