What Kind of Player Can Truly Be Considered "Unsolved"?
Elite perimeter and post scoring: Elite outside and inside scoring are necessities.
Elite speed and agility: Both movement and lateral quickness must be exceptional.
Height and size: In an era of mismatches—where bigs dominate smaller players and vice versa—size remains an undeniable advantage.
Elite physicality and endurance: Top-tier athleticism and strength are essential.
Elite handling and playmaking: Great ball handling and playmaking to unlock stubborn defenses.
Elite defense and rebounding: Grabbing boards and being defensively solid are needed.
But without an exceptional mentality, all these were useless.
A player with all these qualities is rare to find...
..............
The Davidson College campus was alive with movement. Lush greenery lined the walkways as students came and went.
Among them, a young light-skinned man of Asian descent strolled with his upper body clad in a white Nike T-shirt. Humming to himself, he carried the tune of an internet hit, "Fairytale Town"—a song that, like him, felt out of place in this era.
Meanwhile, in his office, McKillop, head coach of Davidson's basketball team, let out a sigh as he ran a hand through his graying hair.
This past March, Davidson shocked the nation in the NCAA tournament. But lately, it has been defeat after defeat.
They had managed to keep their star player, Stephen Curry, for another year. But with his key screen-setters and rebounders having graduated, and opponents now swarming him beyond the arc, Davidson had lost its "Cinderella" shine. Now, they were simply another team in the Southern Conference, struggling to stay relevant.
Even so, one thing was certain—whether Davidson made another deep tournament run or not, Stephen Curry was already a near-lock to be a first-round NBA draft pick.
The thought of coaching Davidson's first-ever NBA lottery selection brought Coach McKillop a small sense of relief.
"Lin, what song is that? I can't find it online."
Back in the dorms, Stephen Curry frowned as he looked up from his phone. Their room was part of Davidson's comfortable student housing—three bedrooms, a shared living space, tiled floors, a spacious balcony, and even air conditioning.
The young man humming the song was Lin Yi, a Chinese international student. With a wave , he replied, "Because I've told you before, Stephen—the song is not on the internet."
Curry barely reacted, too distracted by his frustration.
"We lost again. 76 to 77."
Lin Yi raised an eyebrow. "Tough loss."
Curry groaned, flopping onto the couch. "Rebounds. We lost 32 to 14! Eighteen rebounds, gone! I can already see our season slipping away. March Madness is getting further and further out of reach."
Lin Yi smirked. "You're not here for my sympathy, are you? Wouldn't Ayesha be better for that?"
Curry shook his head. His junior season had been a struggle—far different from the magic of the previous year.
Lin leaned forward. "Let me guess—you don't want to play one-on-one either? It's not exactly an achievement to beat me, considering I'm a second-tier scrub. And if it's just three-pointers, I might have a chance. Not much bragging rights there, huh?"
At 5'9" (175 cm), Lin Yi was significantly shorter than Curry, who stood at 6'2" (188 cm). He was also thinner, lacking even the option of outmuscling his friend.
Curry let out another sigh. "If only you could grow 30 centimeters taller—no, even 20 centimeters! Then I could convince Coach McKillop to put you on the team."
Lin Yi chuckled. "That again? Stephen, you've been saying that for months."
But deep down, he understood.
Curry admired his shooting and ball-handling skills. He often claimed that, aside from himself, Lin Yi had the best touch at Davidson. But all of that was meaningless when Lin was so undersized.
And that fact gave Coach McKillop even more gray hairs.
To distract themselves, they fired up NBA 2K9 for a game.
It went as expected—Lin Yi dominated.
Curry groaned, tossing his controller aside. "This is so unrealistic! The shooting in this game is broken."
Lin Yi muttered to himself. "Tell me about it. Even in the future, people will say your shooting in 2K isn't realistic..."
He grinned, snapping a photo of his victory screen with his brand-new iPhone 3G.
"Alright, Curry—five beef burgers and two Cokes. My prize."
Curry frowned. "How do you eat more than me?"
Athletes naturally ate a lot, but Lin Yi? Despite being skinny, he ate more than Curry.
Lin flashed a grin. "Special training. I think I can still grow taller."
Curry sighed, rubbing his piggy bank—a gift from his girlfriend, Ayesha.
After devouring their burgers, they went for another round of 2K. Same result—Curry couldn't win.
Lying in bed later that night, he sighed once more.
"Lin, if you only you were taller. I need help so badly."
Lin Yi was silent for a moment. Then, he muttered:
"Stephen, what you need is a solid pick-and-roll partner."
That was the unsolvable problem for Davidson College.
Their tallest remaining player, Anthony Beasley (6'7" / 201 cm), couldn't shoot and was limited in skill.
At the college level, Curry's deep shooting range and pull-up ability were still developing. His father, Dell Curry, had advised him to stay another year, hoping he would refine his ball-handling and passing—preparing him for an NBA future.
That season, he averaged close to eight assists per game, proving he could be more than just a shooter.
But was he tall enough? Strong enough? NBA scouts still weren't sure.
As for Lin Yi...
He had come to the U.S. for one reason.
No matter what, he wasn't ready to give up on basketball.
And with that thought, he drifted off to sleep...