Chapter 4: The National Team Call-Up

While the off-season is a pleasant and relaxing time for most players, many international players face a packed schedule of matches as they continue to represent their national teams. Stars like Dirk Nowitzki, Pau Gasol, Tony Parker, Manu Ginóbili, and Luis Scola play numerous games for their countries almost every summer. In fact, one popular theory regarding why Lin Fei's senior idol, Yao Ming, retired so early was that, in addition to his grueling NBA commitments, he remained the absolute cornerstone of the national team, shouldering countless international fixtures every year until sheer exhaustion finally led to a stress fracture. At least for now, Lin Fei was having a much more blissful time, staying in the United States to train while frequently meeting up with Avril to chat. Although they had not yet explicitly defined their romantic relationship, things were undeniably sweet between them.

Deep down, Lin Fei had cherished a lifelong complex: the dream of playing for the Chinese national team. For reasons hard to put into words, Chinese players possessed an intensely strong national spirit. Whenever the national team called, they would answer the duty without the slightest hesitation. Even ahead of the 2008 Beijing Olympics, when Yao Ming was plagued by injuries and strongly advised by numerous doctors to rest, Yao still insisted that missing the 2008 Games would be the greatest regret of his life. Risking his career, he made it to the Olympics, led the Chinese team into the quarterfinals, and displayed an unprecedented tenacity in matches against the United States and Spain. When asked why he valued national team duties so much, Yao answered with righteous solemnity: "Because I am a Chinese player." Perhaps this attitude and devotion earned Yao the universal respect of the entire Chinese basketball community. Such dedication was often difficult for American players to comprehend; superstars like Shaquille O'Neal and Tim Duncan would sometimes turn down national team call-ups, fully backed by fans who supported their refusals. In their mindset, participating in the national team was not necessarily a supreme honor; sometimes it was perceived as an empty title or even a burden. Thus, Chinese people struggled to understand Americans, just as Americans failed to truly read the Chinese perspective. By all accounts, Lin Fei's skills had already reached the NBA level, and the national team should have issued a call-up immediately, yet no definitive news had emerged.

Meanwhile, the topic was generating heated discussion back home in China. Conventionally, Chinese basketball had always lacked elite guards—the backcourt had forever been the Achilles' heel in the progress of the Chinese men's national team. After Yao Ming's retirement, with the team losing that formidable interior gravity, this fatal weakness was bound to be amplified infinitely. China had no shortage of guards, yet practically none of them were truly impactful. As the most crucial puzzle pieces in a team, a lack of backcourt firepower was undoubtedly fatal. Look at how far Liu Wei's standards had fallen, yet he remained the starter—he was simply an embarrassment in international competition. In the 2008 Olympics, Sun Yue had broken through and made a stunning impression, but in the years that followed, even searching with a lantern failed to unearth another competent guard. Yet, despite this desperate void, Lin Fei remained unsummoned, leaving many deeply perplexed.

The Chinese sports system relies on a state-sponsored training model, where athletes are generally nurtured from childhood. Lin Fei, however, was an anomaly who had emerged entirely out of nowhere; no one had known about him previously, and he seemed to have skyrocketed to fame overnight. The national team hadn't even managed to consider him by last year—bureaucratic efficiency can indeed be rather sluggish—before Lin Fei transitioned straight into the next NBA season. Furthermore, Chinese basketball talent evaluation had long been plagued by a deep-rooted obsession with height. Traditional Chinese basketball thinking heavily favored tall players while neglecting shorter ones. After towering figures like Yao Ming, Wang Zhizhi, and Yi Jianlian ventured into the NBA, this height supremacist theory ran even more rampant. Grassroots Chinese basketball institutions had long designated tall players as the primary focus of development, resulting in a talent selection process that picked the tallest rather than the best. Inherent height thresholds were silently erected during recruitment, shutting out children with boundless potential but insufficient stature. Lin Fei was likely one of the victims of this flawed philosophy. Moreover, Lin Fei's athletic traits were not exceptionally flashy, and before his foray into the NBA, he hadn't even undergone systematic professional training, which undoubtedly imposed severe limitations. Consequently, top-tier guards had always been rare unicorns for the Chinese team. Fortunately for Lin Fei, an American scout happened to spot his infinite potential at a single glance, thrusting him unexpectedly into the NBA—a development that served as a resounding slap in the face to many domestic talent evaluators.

Even now, as public attention on Lin Fei surged, distinct factions began to form regarding his potential national team inclusion.

One faction staunchly opposed Lin Fei's selection. In their view, the national team did not need a guard with extraordinary individual flair or elite scoring prowess; instead, they valued someone who could facilitate ball movement, create scoring opportunities for role players, and excel in playmaking and organization.

Another camp argued that the fundamental objective of winning basketball games ultimately boiled down to scoring points and stopping the opponent from doing the same. Lin Fei could score, and he could inject an unprecedented offensive dynamism into the national team. That alone should be more than enough.

A third, more ambiguous group maintained that the Chinese national team was not the Golden State Warriors. Even if Lin Fei joined the national team, he might not necessarily adapt to its system. Chinese basketball had historically relied on interior offense and half-court execution, whereas the Warriors thrived on perimeter shooting, pace, and fast breaks. Without the supporting cast and spatial freedom he enjoyed in Golden State, Lin Fei would struggle to make a significant impact. However, if the national team made appropriate tactical adjustments tailored to Lin Fei, success could certainly be achieved.

Then there were the fervent die-hard supporters of Lin Fei, whose stance was uncompromising: as the fastest-dribbling, most accurate shooting, and most potent scoring player on the planet, even if he were just kept as a team mascot, he simply had to be placed on the national team as a matter of symbolic prestige. Besides, even if such a player just stood motionless on the court—

Naturally, the leadership of the Chinese national team found themselves hesitating, even holding multiple meetings to debate the issue. Eventually, however, an insider reached out to Lin Fei by phone to brief him on the situation and advise him to prepare. Hearing these words filled Lin Fei with an indescribable joy; at the very least, there was hope. Receiving a national team call-up would unquestionably serve as the ultimate validation of his abilities.

As the discussions dragged on, various experts began to invoke the cautionary tale of Yao Ming, terrified that this new pride of heaven might follow in Yao's footsteps and be plagued by injuries. Ever since Yao's tragic early retirement, fans grew pale at the mere mention of injuries. While most people wished to support the national team, they were simultaneously terrified of seeing their favorite players overworked and broken down by physical ailments—a complex emotional entanglement indeed.

Aware that the national team was actively deliberating his case, Lin Fei began studying recent game footage of the national team to familiarize himself with their current dynamics and tactical schemes, preparing himself for an eventual call-up. Yet, no matter how he watched, the tempo of the national team's play felt agonizingly slow, and the flaws in their offensive execution and defensive breakdowns were glaringly obvious. A quiet shock washed over Lin Fei; previously, the level of national team play had felt impossibly distant and unfathomable. But after two years of refinement in the furnace of the NBA, watching those games now revealed a reading of the game vastly superior to his past self.

In truth, the Chinese Basketball Association leaned toward incorporating Lin Fei into the national team squad, but numerous variables made the decision difficult to navigate. For instance, Lin Fei had not benefited from the state's specialized training system, making him harder to manage. Just think: back in Yao Ming's era, the state provided him with a dietary allowance far exceeding that of ordinary people; and looking at Yi Jianlian and Sun Yue, which of those NBA-bound players had not been thoroughly nurtured by the state? Lin Fei, however, was different. The kid seemed to have forged his path entirely through his own relentless hustle, meaning he arguably had every justification to reject a national team call-up. In the end, Xin Lancheng, the director of the Basketball Management Center, made the executive decision: regardless of the circumstances, bringing Lin Fei into the national team was an absolute necessity. At the very least, for the future development and cultivation of Chinese guards, there was an immense wealth of experience to be learned from him.

And just like that, the matter was settled.