With just three seconds left in the high school basketball final, my school is down by one. The coach passes the ball to me, all 1.78 meters of me: "Don't cry if we lose, shorty." The opposing players burst out laughing: "Someone that short thinks he belongs on the court?"
I dribble with my eyes closed, remembering the scout's taunt when I failed to make the school team: "Your height is a real problem." When I open my eyes again, the world is silent. The basketball traces a perfect arc, and the whole gym holds its breath.
On NBA Draft Night, the scouting report reads: Fatal flaw: undersized. In my first appearance as a substitute on a ten-day contract, I fake out the 2.11-meter number-one pick and send him tumbling. I hit seven straight three-pointers, and the commentator roars: "Chen Qi! The Short-King Warrior from the East!"
This work is dedicated to everyone who loves basketball.
