For any young inside player in the League, facing Ah Gan for the first time is an incredibly nerve-wracking experience.
Kevin Garnett is no exception. This big boy from South Carolina, who just turned 19 this year, is gradually losing his fantasies about the NBA after a year of baptism in its games.
In 1995, as a much-anticipated high school draft entrant, Kevin Garnett was selected by the Timberwolves as the fifth overall pick, thus beginning his professional career.
Before this, his fantasies about professional basketball were as dazzling as a night sky full of stars, but his first training session in the summer of 1995 peeled a layer of skin off him.
The intensity of NBA training left him in agony. After training, he sat on a chair with ice packs wrapped around him, wailing in pain, "The NBA is no joke, it’s really hard."
What made him struggle even more was when the head coach told him that he either had to run on the treadmill for another hour, or walk back to the hotel by himself.
Garnett could hardly believe his ears. He thought the training was over, but in reality, it wasn’t. In the NBA, to survive, training is endless.
At that time, he weighed only 215 pounds and was as skinny as a twig. In high school, he could use his height and jumping ability to dominate opponents.
But in the NBA, there are people everywhere stronger than him. Even though the Timberwolves were bottom-feeders unable to make the playoffs, their players were talents from high schools and colleges.
Soon, during training, he was blocked and knocked to the ground by Sam Mitchell—a 6’6" small forward—with a crushing block.
That night, he called his agent in distress, crying, saying the NBA was not what he imagined.
Almost every young player not long in the NBA says this because there’s always a gap between fantasy and reality, and this gap is particularly large in the NBA.
Many are eliminated because of this gap, but Kevin Garnett stuck with it and did very well.
In a year, he gained 25 pounds and gradually adapted to the harsh training and endless games of the NBA.
He lived with friends in a big villa, taking good care of himself. The Timberwolves originally intended to place him in a host family, like a college student.
He successfully made it through the 1995-1996 rookie season, transitioning from a rookie to a sophomore, and was qualified to greet rookies like Kobe and Little O’Neal as juniors.
He could bring along the 1996 rookie Stephon Marbury, teaching him how to survive in the NBA, how to face tough training, and how to balance basketball and life in Minnesota’s icy environment.
But one can never completely erase all fantasies because part of fantasy is a dream, which is the inner drive for a player, a person, to achieve higher success.
For Kevin Garnett, his biggest fantasy in 1996 wasn’t about making the playoffs, becoming an All-Star, or scoring 30 points in a nationally televised game.
His fantasy was to play a beautiful game against Ah Gan and then get praised by his idol, saying, "Young man, you did well."
Just imagining such a scene was enough to make Garnett tremble with excitement. He was the same during his first NBA game; he kept shaking and couldn’t even hold a cup of water.
He was nervous and scared, but he wasn’t about to back down. Instead, his adrenaline was soaring, and he couldn’t wait to perform, to prove himself on the court.
That game took place at ARCO Arena against the Kings. He scored 8 points but grabbed only 1 rebound. He was just too thin, completely unable to compete with those strong NBA inside players.
Now, on December 1, 1996, in the home locker room of the Target Center, more than an hour before the game was to start this evening, Kevin Garnett was once again trembling with nervous excitement.
He was pacing back and forth in the locker room, clenching his fists, shaking non-stop, muttering like he was chanting spells, as if he were possessed.
Yet his teammates didn’t find it unusual. Kevin is just that kind of person; whenever it’s a big game or he’s fired up, he acts like he’s hopped up on something, acting all manic.
He would either continuously pound his chest or spout off trash talk to himself. In short, it’s hard for him to calm down.
And every time he’s like this, he ends up performing well. That’s just how he is—he needs stimulus, needs excitement.
Mitchell, who was changing, leaned over to listen and heard Garnett seemingly muttering "tomato, tomato."
"What the hell are you talking about? Tomato? You want to eat a tomato?"
"No, no, I was saying potato... Not, get lost, you black dude, or I’ll punch you."
Mitchell laughed. He knew Garnett wouldn’t hit anyone; he just enjoyed blustering.
"If you have the guts, punch Ah Gan, then you’d definitely make the front page of USA Today."
"You think I wouldn’t dare? Today, I’m absolutely gonna give Ah Gan a punch!"
With that, Garnett raised his fist, took a boxing stance, and started shadowboxing while jumping around.
The entire locker room burst into laughter, and Garnett shrugged, saying, "What’s so funny? I studied boxing!"
Mitchell shook his head and said, "Kevin, haven’t you seen Ah Gan play? If you punch Ah Gan, I need to book a funeral home for you right now."
Everyone laughed again. Mitchell is a veteran of the League; he was drafted in 1985 by the Rockets in the third round but was cut during training camp.