I'd wasted half my life.
That was my takeaway after devouring Slam Dunk in a day and a half.
And I wasn't exaggerating.
If I'd read this before picking up soccer, I definitely would've gone down the basketball path instead.
The impact hit me that hard.
Now I get why it's the ultimate intro to basketball in this era.
Just finishing it had clued me in on the rules, basic defense, tactics, and strategies.
"Urgh… Can't wait for tomorrow?"
Of course, real games would tell the real story. But I already had plays I was dying to try.
Time had slipped to Friday at 5 p.m. I headed to a nearby department store to gear up for tomorrow's match.
Basketball shoes were top priority.
And I can break them in with a run or something.
But there was a massive problem. A huge one.
The clerk responded to my request like this.
"Size 330?"
"Yeah, 325 would be ideal, but with taping and thick socks, 330 should fit fine… Show me what you've got."
The clerk didn't hesitate.
"We don't have that size, sir."
"…Pardon?"
"Even 300s are rare in the warehouse. No way we've got 330s."
"Oh."
It jogged a memory from my past life. Even back then, scoring size 330 soccer cleats had been a nightmare. Once I went pro, custom fits solved it, so I'd forgotten all about it.
My mouth went dry.
"Uh, so where can I find some? Which store should I hit?"
"Hmm? No department store in the area stocks 330s. You'd need a specialty sports shop."
At least the clerk was helpful. He even called around to Suwon sports stores on my behalf.
"Yes, yes. Size 330 basketball shoes. For actual play, not display. Uh-huh… Oh. I see."
He grimaced and turned back to me.
"Sorry, they've got display models, but they're three or four years old. Pricey, and they'd fall apart if you wore them."
"Any way around it?"
"Maybe check online…"
"No time. My thing's tomorrow at lunch."
He suggested trying Itaewon, but timing was off there too.
Who knew shoe shopping would be the real boss fight?
Regular sneakers wouldn't cut it either—Slam Dunk mentioned indoor courts were picky about footwear. And showing up to a tryout in street shoes? Bad manners.
As I stood there fidgeting, the store owner on the line made an offer. If price wasn't an issue, he'd hunt down some used ones.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇The next day, I waited nervously at Suwon Station's Exit 3.
Contact with the seller had gone down last night at 11 p.m. We'd aimed for 11 a.m., a miracle match given the short notice. I'd pushed my schedule on him, and he griped the whole way—especially when I suggested somewhere near the gym, calling it a hassle without subway access. Swallowing my pride, we settled on the station.
Then he rolled up at 11:20. Twenty minutes late. In a car, no less.
Seriously…? We could've met anywhere then.
He apologized, at least.
"Ah, sorry about that. Really, truly sorry. My daughter suddenly needed a ride downtown, so traffic was a nightmare. What's with all those signals…?"
He had a friendly, easygoing vibe. Early forties, maybe.
"Stuff's in the trunk. We'll chat on the way?"
"Sure."
Heading to the station parking lot, he started yapping away.
"I didn't wanna sell this one. But my wife kept nagging—no space left, sell it already! That's why I snapped on the phone yesterday. Kim Young-jun, that guy from the BP shop? He called my wife instead! She flipped, said buyer's waiting, sell it quick. We fought, then I called you back."
"Thanks for working around my schedule…"
"Whew! Won't appreciate anyway, so whatever."
The trunk of his SUV was jammed with basketball gear. He pulled out a neatly boxed pair and handed it over.
"Here! Kevin Garnett's actual game shoes! Size 330! Worn in last Christmas match—under three months old."
"Garnett…?"
Disappointing. I'd take any 330s, sure, but for 500,000 won? Not Jordan or LeBron?
Kevin who now?
My letdown must've shown.
"Wanna knock some off? You look like a student."
"Nah, here's 500k."
"Wait, hold up. I'll throw in extras: ankle tape, socks, wristbands…"
No reason to say no—stuff I actually needed. Freebies accepted.
As he bagged it all, he paused.
"You a player? Built like a beast. What college?"
"High schooler."
"Huh? High school!?"
His face lit up.
"My kid's on his high school team! Senior this year."
"Yeah… I'm a senior too."
"Hah! Might've crossed paths. Which school? That height? Colleges'll fight over you. Got a dream one?"
No time, so I gave a vague rundown and tried to bail.
But hearing my story pumped him up more.
"Starting games now?"
"Nah, tryout. Not sure if it'll lead to games."
"Tryout?"
Tired of explaining, but hey, free stuff—he deserved some courtesy.
"Starting basketball fresh as a senior!? How the…?"
"Long story. Gotta run—starts at 1."
"Tight schedule. I'll drive you."
"Pardon?"
"Hang on."
He grabbed his phone.
"Hey, honey! Uh-oh, grabbed the wrong shoes. Skipping lunch. What? No, sold 'em! Buyer wants something else. Yeah, yeah. I'll sell it, don't worry. Home by 4—no waiting!"
Click. He grinned like a kid.
"Let's roll!"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇Suwon Indoor Gymnasium, near Suwon World Cup Stadium.
Players in different uniforms warmed up. Easy to spot: inter-school friendly between Shinil High and Baesung High.
No practice scrimmage—this setup meant I had to play coy about which side I was trying out for.
There.
Coach Seong Jin-ho chatted with a bearded middle-aged guy from the second-level stands.
Spotting me, Coach Seong said something. The bearded man came down.
"You Seojun? Heard from Jin-ho hyung."
"Yes, sir! Lee Seojun."
"Hmm. Hm."
He sized me up like livestock.
"Frame's basketball-ready. But you're late—know that?"
"Yes, sir."
"Alright, talk's over. …Yoon-jung! Friend's here."
A guy who looked like Baesung High's coach approached, face sour. "He actually showed…"
"Hyung-nim, I said it's a hassle. Testing some noob senior out of nowhere?"
"One time, please. Coach begged me."
"Sigh… Fine, 10 minutes in the second-year friendly. That's it."
"Straight to game?"
"No time for separate drills."
"Eh… Whatever. Seojun, cool?"
Sudden game? Kinda expected it.
"Fine by me."
Second-year game in 30. I was on Baesung's side.
I ran to break in the shoes. Pre-worn, they molded fast.
Sole's soft.
Landing felt stiffer than cleats' studs. Soccer's on grass; these were hard-bottomed despite the cushion.
Grip's insane. Slide like soccer? Ankle city.
Ten minutes to tip-off, court time. Seven second-years half-courted for shots. I grabbed the wing.
"…"
"…"
Awkward vibes around me.
No one passed to the blank-faced guy at the three-point line.
Bench seniors whispered "Who's that?" First- and second-years stole wary glances.
My 2m-plus height and build screamed athlete, but a rando crashing practice? Shock factor.
Thud. Someone tossed me a ball anyway.
Catching it drew curious stares—players, even family in the stands.
I swallowed hard.
First-ever jump shot.
Stay cool. Just like Jeong Dae-man.
Visualize. Visualize.
Image locked, I exploded straight up, shoving the ball with my right hand full force.
Form wasn't half-bad, probably.
If only it'd gone in…
Whoosh! Way over the rim, into some guy's lap on the second level.
"Pfft…!"
"Puhahaha!"
Laughter erupted. Seniors roared. Shinil players sneered.
"Hahaha!"
"What a retard. Kekeke…!"
The fan chuckled, tossing it back.
"Nice pass!"
Thud. I caught it, masking embarrassment, reset.
"Ahem!"
Not as easy as it looked.
Control the power this time…!
Clang! Top of the backboard.
"What the hell?"
"Who is this clown? Keke!"
Instant laughingstock.
Fine. Grit it out, sink one at least.
I clenched my teeth, demanding the ball.
Thirty threes later: three makes. Lucky bounces off the rim.
Still made some! Not Kang Baek-ho level!
Self-justifying, Coach Choi Yoon-jung snorted.
"Jeez… Alright, huddle up!"
He rallied them: play loose, like practice. Then to me:
"Seojun, right? You're number 5 today. No fancy calls—do your thing."
Stares locked on.
But tactical lingo? Lost.
'Your thing' means free rein?
Got that much. Not the rest.
Asking might burn bridges, but necessary.
"…Sorry, what's 'number 5' mean?"
"What!?"
Shocked gasps from the team.
Coach blinked, then barked.
"Don't know 5? Five! Center! Play center!"
"Ah."
Right—positions from the manga.
"Goddamn… Figure it out! Sub in 10."
Coach glared at the bearded guy and Coach Seong, then benched.
Players, clued in, trudged center court with deadpan faces.
Tryout started on the worst note.
But asking paid off.
Center… Aka Chae Chi-su role?
That was it.
In other words:
Whoever dominates rebounds dominates the game.
I nailed what the coach wanted.
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