Sports Medicine Master System

Chapter 361 - 301: Training Manual

"Chen, are we really going to fine them?"

In the car, Kupchek asked, his face grim.

The money was one thing, but more importantly, it was embarrassing.

Chen Yu didn’t say anything. If he didn’t issue a fine, how could he make an example of them?

Beside them, Jackson waved a hand to stop Kupchek. "Mitch, the fine is necessary. We were definitely in the wrong on this."

The more he thought about it during the drive, the more he felt Chen Yu was right.

If they had followed the Phoenix Suns’ lead and implemented the five-minute rule sooner, would the conflict between O’Neal and Kobe have gone unnoticed?

In fact, even without a psychologist pointing it out, Jackson himself knew O’Neal and Kobe had issues.

But he never addressed it. If they’d had a dedicated psychologist back then to help resolve the conflict between the two, would O’Neal still have demanded a trade that summer?

Jackson didn’t want to dwell on the past, but now they had traded O’Neal for Yao Ming. If Yao also failed to perform due to psychological issues, the Lakers’ loss would be truly immense.

Just look at Kwame Brown.

A number one draft pick, no less. It wasn’t like the Wizards didn’t give him a chance, but in his rookie season, he averaged a mere 4.5 points and 3.5 rebounds.

Then look at the second pick, Tyson Chandler, who had already found his footing with the Bulls.

And the third pick, Pau Gasol, had already become the absolute core of the Grizzlies, their leading scorer, and the Rookie of the Year.

And Yao Ming was someone who had once easily dominated Chandler.

Kupchek sighed and stopped arguing.

Just then, the car arrived at Yao Ming’s new home in Los Angeles.

It was in a neighborhood called Silver Lake, a detached house that could just about pass for a villa. Located between downtown and Hollywood, the drive to the Staples Center from there was only about twenty minutes.

"Chen, what are we going to do?" Jackson asked after they got out of the car.

He was completely clueless about how to assess whether Yao Ming had mental health issues, let alone how to deal with them.

Chen Yu said, "We don’t have to do anything."

With that, he walked up and pressed the doorbell.

Someone quickly opened the door.

It seemed to be Yao Ming’s mother. She paused for a moment upon seeing Chen Yu, then noticed Jackson and Kupchek behind him and quickly ushered the three of them inside.

"You must be Dr. Chen," Yao Ming’s mother said, pleasantly surprised. "Yao Ming told me about you. He said you visited Shanghai before and had a meal with him, Director Yao, and Manager Li."

It was mainly because Chen Yu was of Chinese descent that she felt a sense of familiarity.

Yao Ming wasn’t there; he had gone grocery shopping.

The men sat down in the living room.

"I’m so sorry, the house is a mess. It’s just me, and I haven’t had a chance to tidy up yet," Yao Ming’s mother said with a warm smile as she poured tea for the three of them.

It was clear that the furniture in the house was all newly bought.

"Ma’am, are you making dumplings?" As they chatted, Chen Yu noticed the open-plan kitchen nearby and asked casually.

Chen Yu had been speaking Chinese the whole time and was clearly very familiar with things from China, so it wasn’t surprising he recognized what she was doing. She nodded and said, "That’s right. Yao Ming has been craving them, but I couldn’t find any ready-made dumpling wrappers, so I have to roll them myself."

"Well then, let me help," Chen Yu said with a smile, getting up.

"You know how to make dumplings?" Yao Ming’s mother asked, her face full of surprise.

"Of course. My mother taught me." Chen Yu had already briskly washed his hands, picked up a rolling pin, and started rolling out the dough.

After watching him for just a moment, Yao Ming’s mother gave him a thumbs-up. There was no doubt about it—he definitely knew what he was doing.

That left Jackson and Kupchek sitting on the sofa, staring at each other blankly.

"Phil, what is Chen doing?" Kupchek asked in a low voice.

Chen Yu and Yao’s mother were speaking Chinese the whole time, and the two men couldn’t understand a word.

Besides, in American etiquette, showing up at someone’s house unannounced was already quite forward. With Yao Ming not even home, Kupchek had been thinking they should come back another time. He never expected that not only would Chen Yu stay, but he would actually start helping with the cooking.

’What’s going on? Are we staying for dinner?’

Jackson was just as bewildered. He felt so awkward he could have picked at his feet. Shaking his head, he stared blankly at Chen Yu, who was laughing and chatting with Yao Ming’s mother.

’Is this how psychologists treat patients? This is nothing like I imagined.’

Chen Yu, on the other hand, saw nothing inappropriate about it. Chinese people were hospitable; they’d offer a glass of water even to a stranger, let alone a familiar acquaintance who dropped by.

As for lending a hand with the cooking, that was even more natural.

Just as Chen Yu and Yao Ming’s mother started exchanging tips on mixing the filling, Yao Ming returned.

With him was his translator, Rekton, followed by two other people carrying small video cameras.

The league was planning to shoot a documentary about Yao Ming.

So, for the next year, his life would be exposed to the cameras.

Yao Ming froze when he saw Chen Yu, sleeves rolled up, rolling dumpling wrappers while laughing and chatting with his mother, and then saw Jackson and Kupchek sitting on the sofa.

"Da Yao, your coach is here. Go on, go talk to him," his mother immediately called out.

Yao Ming nodded blankly, sat down in front of Jackson and the other man, and asked what was going on.

Jackson’s eye twitched. ’Don’t ask me,’ he thought, ’I have no idea what we’re doing either.’

"Well, uh, Chen has something he wants to talk to you about," Jackson said, immediately passing the buck to Chen Yu.

Yao Ming blankly walked over and asked Chen Yu what was going on.

Chen Yu glanced at the things Yao Ming had bought.

It looked like some electronics.

"By the way, do you know how to make dumplings?" Chen Yu asked.

Yao Ming subconsciously nodded.

"Then get to it," Chen Yu said with a smile, then called out to Jackson, "Phil, you want to come over and experience making Chinese dumplings?"

Having been called out, Jackson was screaming internally. ’Weren’t we here for a psychological evaluation? How did it turn into this?’

He couldn’t figure out what Chen Yu was up to, so he could only nod and walk over with Kupchek.

Nearby, the documentary director’s eyes lit up, and he quickly signaled for the camera to focus on them.

"Yao Ming, teach Phil. Look, the ones he’s making are hideous," Chen Yu said proactively.

Yao Ming said, "Oh," and took a dumpling wrapper to demonstrate for Jackson.

Jackson watched very seriously, but his fingers moved as if they were cramping, and the final product was still frightfully ugly.

"Strange, why is it like this?" Jackson asked, a look of complete confusion on his face.

An irrepressible smile appeared on Yao Ming’s face; he was trying hard to hold back his laughter.

Kupchek, meanwhile, was staring intently at the rolling pin in Chen Yu’s hands, unable to understand how he could roll out a perfect circle of dough with just a few casual movements.

After they had made quite a few dumplings, Yao Ming’s mother immediately started cooking other dishes, insisting that Chen Yu and the others stay for dinner.

Taking advantage of the break, Chen Yu followed Yao Ming on a tour of the house.

"Are you learning to get your driver’s license?" Chen Yu asked, making small talk as he looked around Yao Ming’s room.

It was quite large but sparse, furnished only with a bed. There was a photo on the nightstand and a few books tossed on the bed.

There was an English dictionary and what looked like a Lakers playbook.

That thing was especially thick and updated every year—a headache for anyone who had to read it.

Chen Yu was a reasonably skilled communicator to begin with, not to mention he now had a technical boost to his communication skills. With some intentional guidance, he chatted a lot with Yao Ming.

In the evening, the men stayed for dinner.

It was a delightful meal for both guests and hosts.

For Jackson and Kupchek, eating authentic Chinese food for the first time was like discovering a whole new world.

After dinner, while it wasn’t completely dark yet, Chen Yu took the initiative to say his goodbyes.

"Dr. Chen, please come again," Yao Ming’s mother said at the door, reluctant to see him go.

"I will."

Chen Yu nodded and beckoned to Yao Ming.

When he came over, Chen Yu took a quarto-sized manual, about a finger-width thick, from his shoulder bag and handed it to him.

"Dr. Chen, what’s this?" Yao Ming asked, taking it with a puzzled look.

Chen Yu smiled. "As you know, we were originally planning to draft you. This is a training and improvement plan that Nelson and the others put together for you based on your physical condition. Now that you’re with the Lakers, I thought about it and felt this might still be useful to you, so I brought it over."

When they went to scout in China back in February, the Phoenix Suns had already been preparing to draft Yao Ming.

For that purpose, Chen Yu and Nelson had created a training and improvement plan.

It was incredibly detailed, covering everything from daily training and technical skills to diet.

He couldn’t just throw it away, not after putting so much effort into it—that would have been a waste. So, he simply brought it with him this time.

Rekton stood nearby, translating for Jackson and Kupchek. When Jackson heard it was a training plan Chen Yu had specifically designed for Yao Ming, his eyes lit up, and he asked if he could take a look.

He took it and flipped through a few pages, and couldn’t help but be shocked.

He discovered that the Phoenix Suns’ development philosophy for Yao Ming was identical to his own.

First, he shouldn’t bulk up excessively.

Many teams in the league, in order to counter O’Neal, particularly favored heavy players. They would even intentionally have their inside players gain weight just to go up against O’Neal.

But Chen Yu believed that there was only one O’Neal. Countering him wasn’t a one-man job but a team effort. Therefore, gaining a significant amount of weight and increasing the risk of injury was not advisable.

Thus, Chen Yu recommended that Yao Ming develop in the direction of Olajuwon.

However, improving his physical strength for confrontations was still important.

He should gain a moderate amount of weight, but focus on muscle gain, maintaining his current body fat percentage of 7%. If he could increase his weight to 140-145 kilograms, his ability to handle physical contact would improve dramatically.

This was because one of Yao Ming’s physical advantages was his strong lower body. By adding core strength training, he would be able to hold his ground firmly under the basket.

Next came technical improvements. For example, because he was flexible enough, he could develop into a finesse center.

In other words, a center like Olajuwon, who could be physical in crucial moments but also possessed outstanding technical skills.

"Chen, this is incredibly useful," Jackson said excitedly.

It wasn’t just that it was a training plan tailored specifically for Yao Ming; more importantly, it proposed many novel training methods that Jackson had never seen before.

"For example, look at this. It says to use glowing ring lights set up in fixed positions. As soon as one lights up, you immediately pass the ball through the ring. This is to improve passing accuracy. This method is brilliant!" Jackson said, pointing out one of the training plans to Kupchek.

His face was full of excitement, but Chen Yu was silently speechless.

"Phil, did you even look at the scientific training summaries the league sent out?" A long time ago, Chen Yu had compiled his training experience and methods into a booklet and distributed it to every team in the league.

Later, as more scientific equipment came into use, he had sent out continuous updates.

But now it seemed these guys hadn’t read any of it.

Jackson looked embarrassed. He really hadn’t paid much attention to that stuff, figuring that every team’s situation was different and the Phoenix Suns’ training methods wouldn’t necessarily apply to the Lakers.

"Chen, I’ll read it as soon as I get back," Jackson said immediately.

Chen Yu shook his head slightly, then said to Yao Ming, "Alright, we’re leaving. Keep up the good work."

The three of them got in the car and left.

Jackson was still flipping through the training manual, growing more and more engrossed. He was becoming increasingly convinced that when it came to training, Chen Yu really knew his stuff.

As he was reading, Jackson suddenly looked up and asked, "By the way, Chen, didn’t we come here to evaluate whether Yao has any psychological issues? Are we just leaving now?"

The thing is, we didn’t do anything—just made small talk and had a delicious Chinese meal.

The entire time, Chen Yu didn’t even mention the topic of psychology, let alone conduct an evaluation.

Kupchek, sitting next to him, also realized this and worriedly asked if Yao Ming needed psychological treatment.

"I already did the evaluation," Chen Yu said.

The two men exchanged a look. ’He already did it? When did that happen? How come we didn’t know?’

"As for whether he has any issues," Chen Yu paused for a thought, then said, "I don’t think so. His ability to handle pressure is far greater than I imagined, and he’s smarter, too."