Edward Thompson greeted them with a smile: “Hello, everyone. I’m the new guy, Edward Thompson, English name Leo Carter.”

No one responded at first, and Edward Thompson touched his nose.

The atmosphere on the court was even more awkward than Brown had imagined—thankfully, there was Brian Scalabrine.

Brian Scalabrine stepped forward and reached out his hand: “Hi, I’m Brian Scalabrine, the team captain. Just call me Brian.”

“Alright, thank you.” There was a hint of gratitude in Edward Thompson’s tone.

Seeing that Edward Thompson had finished greeting everyone, Brown said, “Brian, you can get back to what you were doing. Leo Carter, I’ll take you to get your training gear.”

Brian Scalabrine nodded at Edward Thompson, and the latter followed Brown toward the innermost part of the training facility.

After the two left, the teammates started chattering among themselves.

A tall, dark-skinned guy, about two meters tall, complained, “We already have Shelby, and now another troublemaker joins. Our team is getting livelier and livelier.”

Brian Scalabrine immediately replied, “Sam, you shouldn’t talk like that. We’re all going to be teammates from now on.”

The guy called ‘Sam’ was actually Sam Clancy. He responded, “Yeah, yeah, captain, but he’s not exactly a good guy, it’s not like I’m making it up.”

Brian Scalabrine didn’t say anything more—truthfully, things were indeed getting lively on their team.

But what gave him the biggest headache right now wasn’t the newcomer Edward Thompson, but the teammate standing before him.

No one, including Brian Scalabrine and the veteran teammates from last season, found Sam Clancy’s attitude surprising.

This teammate couldn’t stand anyone who played the same position as him, or even those with a similar height—he just had a problem with everyone, not targeting anyone in particular.

As a genius ranked 49th among all American high schoolers in the class of ’98, Sam Clancy had received countless invitations from teams back then. In the end, he chose the relatively mediocre USC Trojans, and at the time, the media speculated he just wanted to “be a big fish in a small pond.”

However, his freshman season wasn’t particularly outstanding. In high school, he averaged 30+6 per game, but as a freshman, he only got 20 appearances, all as a substitute. Not only did he fail to dominate the Trojans as he’d hoped, he even had to come off the bench for “Little Laimbeer.”

Over time, he became the way he was now—irritated whenever he saw a potential competitor, full of hostility.

If the teammates were afraid of the eccentric Shelby Jordan, when it came to Sam Clancy, they were just annoyed.

Only the good-natured Scalabrine, who entered college the same year, was willing to be friends with him, but even he often got snapped at.

In contrast, they didn’t actually dislike the newcomer Edward Thompson that much—mostly, they were just curious.

The first time they saw Edward Thompson, they were quite surprised. He didn’t look at all like someone who could send “Little Laimbeer” to the hospital.

Chapter 5: Train Him Until He Drops!

Edward Thompson followed Brown to the innermost part of the training facility. When the door was pushed open, it revealed something unexpected—a gym.

Walking through the gym and continuing inside, there were three doors at the corner.

The first was a storage room. Brown stopped Edward Thompson and went in alone.

Edward Thompson saw the notice on the door: players were not allowed to enter without permission.

He peeked inside from the doorway. It was clean and tidy, with everything labeled. As the team manager, Brown quickly brought out a set of training clothes.

Edward Thompson unfolded them for a look—a standard four-piece set: long-sleeved top and pants, plus a short-sleeved jersey and shorts. It was obvious they weren’t custom-made, quite loose, probably the standard size for someone his height.

Brown said, “After training, put your used gear in the dirty laundry basket in the locker room. There’s a sign-in sheet there—write your name, and someone will collect and wash them. I’ll also put a new set in your locker the next morning.”

As he spoke, Brown opened the door next to them and continued, “This is the locker room. Pick a locker.”

Edward Thompson held his breath and walked in, cautiously sniffing the air. It wasn’t as bad as he’d imagined.

The locker room was quite large, with plenty of lockers. He picked one at random that didn’t have a name tag: “This one will do.”

As Brown placed the prepared name tag inside, he said, “You’re going to train in a bit, right? Then change into your gear first. I’ll step out.”

It was late August in Los Angeles and very hot. Edward Thompson was dressed lightly and quickly changed into the short-sleeved jersey and shorts. He neatly folded his clothes and put them in the locker, then left the locker room and returned to the gym.

Brown saw Edward Thompson come out and was about to take him back to the training court when Edward Thompson pointed at the room he hadn’t checked yet and asked, “Steve Brown, what’s this room for?”

“Oh, that,” Brown turned around, walked to the door, and suddenly put on a mysterious expression: “This is…”

“This is?” Edward Thompson was already curious, and now even more so.

Brown pushed the door open and said, “This is another training court!”

“……”

Edward Thompson was speechless.

Inside, it really was another training court, similar to the one outside. Both were bright rooms with high windows, even without the lights on. This one was a bit smaller, square-shaped, with two full courts crossing each other in an X. The four corners were used to store basketballs, benches, and other equipment.