Falke, a smart, cunning, profit-oriented Jew—just like the Chinese, the label of hardworking and bravery.

Born in New York, he grew up in a traditional Jewish family.

My father is a pork shop owner who has not graduated from high school, while his mother is a knowledgeable woman who is proficient in six languages ​​and has two degrees.

The mother served as the grandson of the American oil tycoon during World War II and a Latin translator for Nelson Rockefeller, then Vice President of the United States.

As the second son of this strange family, Falke neither received the attention of the eldest, nor the spoiled by the youngest, so all he could do was do everything well to gain the recognition of his parents.

For Frank, the most influential sentence of his mother on the second son was, “Always aim at the first, and don’t settle for the second.”

Unfortunately, there are some things that you don’t want to get the results you want by working hard, such as the baseball he loves.

Sports require talent, and Jews often do not have the talent for sports. During his four years of high school and four years of study at Syracuse University, they have never been selected for any sports team.

But while studying finance in college, he eventually became a scout and broker in an agency.

After disdainful efforts and entrepreneurship, he is now well-known in the basketball world. In 1976 and 1981, he signed the No. 1 pick John Lucas and Marco Aquili for the company respectively.

Right now, his most important job is in North Carolina, this year's NCAA champion. There are two geniuses waiting for his packaging and excavation.

But now, he was fooled by an old friend to Los Angeles, saying that he might find several new basketball players here, and maybe he would be the next NCAA star and the next NBA superstar.

Falk, who is in the pioneering stage of his career, is unwilling to give up any opportunity, let alone he wants to sell his friends for face.

As a result, when he rushed from North Carolina to Los Angeles, the finals, he didn't expect that there was only such a group of all-not-class fish on the streets near the Great Western Forum Arena.

That's right, this is a bunch of fish.

Although their dribble looks varied and easeless, their shooting is extremely accurate, everyone can jump more than two feet high, and everyone looks strong and powerful.

But they are still mixed fish.

As a scout, what you value is not a player's performance on the field, but their future performance, that is, their potential.

These guys played very hard on the court, and they could be said to have tried their best. Once they got the ball, they would be like snatching the baby and refused to let go, and they would send it to the basket regardless of everything.

No one wants to share the ball, no one defends seriously, no one makes rebounds and covers, and no one shows even a little bit of star temperament.

They are just a group of ordinary "street ball masters" who are suitable for mingling on the street court, and they cannot become a real professional player, and even go to Baker on the East Coast, and the Rock Street Ball League are not qualified.

Just as Frank was disappointed and was about to leave and go to North Carolina to greet the two future superstars, a guy who attracted everyone's attention appeared.

"I know, he's a 'butter bomb'."

"Butter Bomb?" Frank muttered in his heart. The name is somewhat similar to the nickname "Chocolate Bomb" of the 76ers center Darrell Dawkins.

"Is it another guy who can't do anything except dunk?" Frank thought.

However, when he saw the face of the "butter bomb" clearly and found that this guy was a yellow man, he was shocked again.

"Who is this guy? How could a yellow man run to the court in Inglewood?" asked the fat black uncle.

"He came last night and said he wanted to play here, but Slater fought with him in one single match and only played two balls... but he lost awful." The person on the side replied.

"I only played two balls? How could I lose miserably?" The fat black uncle felt very strange.

"Uh... I don't know what to say. After the game, we all felt that Slater was sure to lose, so there was no need to continue."

"Slater? That guy is one of the best players here, and his shooting is very accurate. Mr. Falke, look, it's the guy wearing No. 31 on the court. Look at his shooting!" The fat black uncle was still spared no effort to promote these miscellaneous fish on the court.

Falk had no intention of listening to the nagging of this fat man who was once a miscellaneous fish, but instead focused on the butter bomb.

As a scout who has had contact and cooperation with two No. 1 picks, Falk knew that the gap between an ordinary genius and an ordinary player can be seen in just one game.

The gap between ordinary players and those mediocre talents takes several rounds to distinguish.

And between a real genius and those mediocre talents, there is only one round or one ball, and the right and wrong is judged immediately.

The No. 31 Slater that the fat uncle praised was not even enough for ordinary players in Falke's eyes, and he was just a mediocre person.

Although his shots are good, he has no slight sensitivity to the position on the court, which is unforgivable for a pitcher.

At the same time, he could not prove that he could shoot mid-range shots under higher intensity defense.

The defense here is as thin as the air on the Colorado Plateau.

However, from the "butter bomb", he seemed to be able to feel a slight difference. This was not a special ability, but a sensitivity necessary for an excellent scout.

Falk left the fat black uncle who was still chattering, walked to the tall yellow man standing on the sidelines, looked up at him, and he also looked down at Falk.

"Hello, I am David Falke, the company's scout and agent, from New York, and I'm glad to meet you." Falke stretched out his hand and said friendly to the giant tower in front of him.

"Hello, I'm Gan."

There was no unnecessary language, no unnecessary expressions, and no unnecessary movements. This was the impression Gan Guoyang left on him when he first met Falke.

"Uh, Mr. Gan, are you from Inglewood too? Come here to play basketball?" Falke took back his hand. Gan Guoyang Gan Guoyang just shook his hand like a dragonfly, but it made Falke feel that the hands were extremely huge.

A pair of big hands means you can better control basketball.

Falke became more interested in this tall yellow man.

"No, I'm Chinese, but I live in San Francisco now, so I'm just bored to come and have a look." Gan Guoyang finally said a little more.

"Ao, look, I'm considering recommending a few basketball rookies for some universities. Maybe you can go on the court and give it a try. Maybe you can get the favor of some universities and get a basketball scholarship." Falk said straight to the topic. He has always liked to get straight to the point.

Gan Guoyang felt a little funny after hearing Falk's words, because as a figure who shined in this California Basketball Championship, he had already won the UCLA offer and would go to UCLA to register in a few days.

This scout actually wanted to find new basketball stars in this place where birds don’t poop and fish are piled up. It’s really ridiculous.

"Mr. Falke, I don't think that bloodthirsty white sharks can be found among a group of fish." Gan Guoyang did not answer Falke positively, but said with a slight joking voice.

Falke's face was a little embarrassed. It was true that there was no decent player in this place who could play some regular league games.

However, Falk, who had made dozens of calls to his boss in order to find this agent's scout job, would not give up easily because of such a little ridicule.

He had already felt that perhaps this would be an unexpected gain from his trip to Los Angeles.

"Although there is no white shark found in the mixed fish, it can attract white sharks. Mr. Gan, you may be the white shark I am looking for!" Falke took a big hat and wore it on Gan Guoyang's head, just like seeing how much Gan Guoyang is, and let him go to the field to accompany the mixed fish.

"Mr. Falke, if you really need to watch a basketball performance, I advise you to remember to buy tickets in the future." As he said that, Gan Guoyang took off his shirt and only had a white vest, and got off the venue happily.

"No problem Gan, I can invite you to lunch as a ticket to the show, if you don't mind. Mr. Bloom! I want this Mr. Gan to give it a try and let him join the side!" Falke shouted.

When Falke walked towards Gan Guoyang, the game on the court stopped because they also saw the mysterious man "butter bomb" who bombed the basket last night.

"It's that guy again, I don't know what it is?"

"That scout seems to be very familiar with him."

"I don't know, I've never seen him in Inglewood before, and he's a yellow man."

"Look, he's here, his muscles are really good."

Gan Guoyang has not slacked off for a moment in two months. He weighs nearly 200 pounds at 6 feet 10, which is the result of going to the gym.

As a yellow man, his muscles cannot be like black people. He will have sculptural lines without practicing.

But anyone with a discerning eye can see that there is a huge power under his body.

The 83 strength gifts given to him by NBAlive are already beyond the times when the fitness program in the 1980s was still incomplete.

The two teams on the court were wearing white jerseys and blue jerseys respectively. When Gan Guoyang saw that he was wearing a white shirt, he would join the white team directly.

And the White Team are the players from the "trash can" yesterday.

"Hello, Slater." Gan Guoyang said hello like Slater who was "abuse" by him yesterday.

"Hello." Slater replied coldly, whether he was angry or scared.

"In this way, let Malvin continue, this, this Gump? Gump plays center, we are still 3 points ahead now, and you can win by playing well..." Ian was also in the white team, and he began to allocate his position on the court.

"No, I don't play center, I want to play point guard." Gan Guoyang interrupted Ian and said.

When everyone else heard his words, they looked at him with surprise, as if saying, "Are you crazy?"

However, after seeing Gan Guoyang playing basketball yesterday, they didn't dare to say that.

"Oh no, although we are ahead now, we can't beat around. You know you are 6-foot-10..." Ian persuaded.

"Don't worry, victory is already ours. I just hope we can play beautifully." Gan Guoyang did not listen to Ian's explanation again.

"Oh, then okay, George, you go down first and let this 6-10 gentleman play the point guard." Ian also felt a little unkind.

However, Gan Guoyang didn't care. He had already stood on the sideline and was about to receive the serve.

"What does this guy want to do? Did he think he was a magician?" When the timeout ended and the game continued, and the White team was receiving the ball on the sideline, everyone was thinking about what this guy wanted to do.

Although the guys from the White Team could not stand Gan Guoyang's "unreasonable" request, they did not dare to passively slacken off because Mr. Falke was still on the sidelines and they all began to run actively.

At this time, Gan Guoyang, as the point guard of the White team, was dribbling on the outside to observe the Blue Team's defense, although the Blue Team could not see any defense at all.

Similarly, the White Team's offense was also out of order, and several people were doing some ridding and running based on experience on the field.

In a street five-on-five match, the only two offensive tactics are individual singles and breakthrough passes, and the only defensive strategy is human-to-person.

Therefore, the point guards on both sides either make a single shot in, a basket or a score, or pass the ball to others and let others play singles.

But Gan Guoyang, who has received formal tactical training, would not do this, not to mention that his coach is Mr. Bellman, who attaches great importance to tactical training.

"Pull it apart, run to the left, don't pile it all on the right side! Pay attention to cover and cover each other!" Gan Guoyang transported the ball outside, waved his arms and directed loudly.

"Hey, what little guy do you want to do? It's not that easy to intercept the ball." While commanding, Gan Guoyang also had to deal with the small point guard in front of him. He had been thinking about taking away Gan Guoyang's ball.
To be continued...