Chapter 2213 - 29: Number One Anti-Fan

Chapter 2213: Chapter 29: Number One Anti-Fan

April 21st, 7 p.m., Triangle Center in Salt Lake City, the 2006–2007 NBA Playoffs, Western Conference first round, the 4-seed vs. 5-seed matchup is about to begin.

The Radiant Players are wearing gold-and-red warm-up jackets, looking completely out of place in Salt Lake City’s home arena, whose main colors are blue and white and whose vibe is cool and restrained. These two teams couldn’t be more different.

Glory comes from the blazing desert gambling capital, Las Vegas—bright sun, burning passion. It’s the ultimate in commercial basketball, never short on marquee stars, with mind-blowing revenue.

The Jazz team, on the other hand, are tucked away in the most remote of the League’s 30 markets, Salt Lake City. The cold, snowcapped mountains used to be this place’s calling card, and conservative Mormons run the town. At night, there’s almost nowhere to go for fun; coming to the arena to watch games is one of the biggest pleasures people have.

Back in the ’80s, the Jazz almost moved to Las Vegas because revenue in Salt Lake City was so poor. Back then, the Jazz already played a bunch of games in Vegas’s arena, and the whole team was ready for relocation.

Later, Larry Miller bought the Jazz and kept them in Salt Lake City, giving the locals a major new form of entertainment.

The fact that the Jazz later became the sporting faith of Salt Lake City and even all of Utah, of course, owes everything to nearly twenty years of grinding and dedication from John Stockton and Karl Malone.

Tonight, the two of them are at courtside, watching the Jazz and Glory face off.

The opponent is Ah Gan, so of course they’re here.

Before tipoff, Gan Guoyang comes over to the sideline to say hi to Stockton and Malone.

Malone has been retired for years, but his body hasn’t changed at all—if anything he’s even leaner.

Because for him, working out has long since become a habit, not just a job.

Ever since 1985, when he first ran into Ah Gan and got completely destroyed by him, Malone started living in the weight room, sharpening himself.

Now more than twenty years have passed, and he’s still at it every single day, never once stopping.

As for the little grudges between him and Gan Guoyang, time has long since blown them away.

Malone gets up and hugs Gan Guoyang, saying, "Let’s grab a drink after the game."

"Sure, just don’t slip anything into the glass. I’m not looking to get poisoned."

As the game is about to start, Malone says to Stockton, "I still can’t believe this guy is still playing."

"Me neither. But this should be his last season."

"He told you that?"

"Yeah. He’s 42. He’s a legend."

Guys like Mr. Ma, Stockton, Jordan—this whole group of old-timers, former foes of Ah Gan one after another, have all turned into diehard Gan Guoyang fanboys.

One, because Gan Guoyang’s achievements really are monumental; two, because he’s the standard-bearer for their generation, the last stubborn landmark of that distant ’80s left standing in this new era.

If a 42-year-old Ah Gan is still dominant, then all those people who keep screaming about "evolution," claiming players today are better than players in the past, really need to shut up.

Ah Gan, this living fossil, is the best evidence: in the ’80s, nobody could beat him; in the ’90s, nobody could beat him; now in the ’00s, damn it, they still can’t beat him!

That shows basketball hasn’t really progressed much—might even have regressed—because this version of Ah Gan is Old Man Gan.

Of course there are exceptions. Among his chorus of fanboys, the one who "criticizes" Ah Gan the most isn’t Charles Barkley (most of his shots are really praise in disguise), but Clyde Drexler.

Drexler, after retiring, stayed in Miami as a commentator, often teaming up with Old Jack on broadcasts.

Unlike Walton and the other hardcore Gan stans, Drexler’s persona is "the calm Ah Gan fan, the first-generation superstar to play alongside Ah Gan, whose understanding of Ah Gan is more clear-eyed and objective."

So Drexler is always offering criticism. With Gan fans everywhere, that makes him stand out, and it does draw a lot of attention.

Over the last couple of years, as Ah Gan has declined, gotten older, and started losing more games, Drexler has gradually blown up in the commentary world.

Drexler’s résumé speaks for itself: four Championship Rings, and with different teams. In ring count he’s on level terms with Jordan.

Tonight, Drexler is here courtside doing the play-by-play; he’s now a special guest analyst for ESPN.

After the player introductions, Gan Guoyang walks to the sideline to rub on some chalk, then goes over to Drexler and hits him with a little powder attack.

Drexler covers his mouth and nose, laughing, "That’s enough, Sonny, that punch really wasn’t me!"

Online, the debate over who threw that punch at Ah Gan in 1984 is still raging. The only footage from the scene is a blurry clip shot by a fan with a camcorder.

One highly upvoted breakdown points to Drexler, and now everyone says it was Drexler who snuck in the punch on Ah Gan, which has been pretty embarrassing for Drexler.

Gan Guoyang says, "Can’t you say something nice about me, Clyde?"

Drexler says, "Sonny, you know how it is. It’s just the job, only the job."

Exactly—this so-called "Ah Gan hater" persona Drexler plays is nothing more than a character the TV network cooked up for him.

The idea is to stir up discussion, get more fans to pay to watch the network’s live broadcasts.

Ah Gan is the biggest source of conversation, and the praise lane is crowded and slow. Taking a few jabs now and then works pretty well.

Gan Guoyang chuckles, bumps fists with Drexler, then walks to center court and locks in.

Yao Ming stands in the center circle, jumping against the Turkish center Oko, and the game begins.