"Good morning, Wake Forest! Last night’s ga turned Duke’s devilish ho court into the quietest toshokan in the state.
Thanks to our inspirational densetsu, Zack, who taught those Duke fans how to watch a ga like civilized folks.
Bet those ’Caron Crazies’ are choking on their rage. Alright, let’s kick off a new day of chasing dreams with Duke’s new kōchō—your legendary hero!"
The day after the Duke ga, as Zack strolled through the school gates, he’d quietly earned a new nickna.
Everyone knows the bad blood between Wake Forest and Duke runs deep.
Heck, the Demon Deacons’ na itself is a jab at Duke:
You’re the Blue Devils? Well, we’re the devils’ judges.
So, when Zack beca the first Wake Forest player in recorded history to taunt the Caron Crazies and lead his team to a road blowout, the Wake Forest faithful—who never miss a chance to roast Duke—crowned him "The Duke Principal."
To them, the nickna was a double slam: it honored Zack’s rūru—domination—at Caron Indoor while reminding those self-proclaid "Crazies":
When Principal Zack tells you to shut up, you zip it.
Prosser, who’d only planned to use Duke as Zack’s stepping stone to the NBA, never dread his move would spark such a tanoshii story.
That morning, as Zack greeted classmates, he couldn’t shake the weird vibe of the "Principal" nickna.
Sure, most chats were normal, but every ti soone called him kōchō, his mind flashed to a certain bald guy.
Okay, bald guy aside, Zack had to admit "Duke Principal" was pretty kakkoii—badass.
With the Wake Forest-Duke rivalry, this nickna was bound to be passed down by his kohai for generations.
Fifty years from now, people might forget his face.
But as long as Wake Forest stood, his kohai would strut into "friendly" Duke matchups, chests puffed, declaring:
No matter how great you are, your ’Principal’ was our senior.
Beating Duke didn’t just spread the "Duke Principal" nickna—it launched Zack’s na across college basketball.
The next day, ESPN updated its positional rankings for Zack’s class.
In the new list, "Principal" skyrocketed from 13th to 4th nationally.
Poor "Landlord" Shelden Williams? He plumted from 2nd to 5th.
In their coverage, ESPN raved about Zack’s 28 points, 14 rebounds, 5 assists, 4 blocks, and 1 steal in the 89–69 road rout of Duke.
Their scouting report read: "He’s a two-way force, brimming with energy every minute he’s on the court.
His past shows he’s got ntal toughness.
That said, his stamina and skills need more gas to prove themselves.
Overall, we see him as a slightly slower but stronger Andrei Kirilenko."
In the 03/04 season, "AK47" Kirilenko was already making waves in the NBA. The Russian wingspan freak was known for his suffocating defensive range, elite help defense, and lock-down one-on-one skills.
To ESPN, Zack’s defensive impact mirrored Kirilenko’s in many ways.
Sure, against Duke, Zack flashed his ball-handling flair, but until he polished those skills further, ESPN wasn’t ready to bet on it.
After all, countless NCAA stars had proven that college hoops and the NBA were two betsu no sekai—different worlds.
"If he wants more control on the court, he needs to show through gas that he’s got the talent and the ability," ESPN concluded about his ball-handling.
Compared to the shaky reports Zack rembered from ESPN, this one was... decently fair.
But for Prosser, Zack’s shishō who only had eyes for his star pupil, the report was a travesty.
After reading multiple outlets’ takes, he exploded: "Arican basketball is done for!"
On Zack’s No. 4 ranking, Prosser fud, "Fourth? Fourth? He crushed the No. 2 guy, Shelden Williams, head-on!
Let think—those 12 points Shelden scored? Almost all when you were on the bench, right?"
Then he tore into ESPN’s comparison. "Andrei Kirilenko? Hmph!
They must’ve never seen a player like you before!"
At practice, after cooling off a bit, Prosser lost it again when he saw one outlet compare Zack to Robert Horry.
"Robert Horry? Do these reporters even think?
Just because you shoot threes, they shove you into Horry’s box?"
Amused by Prosser’s rant, Zack grinned. "Coach, who’s my template in your eyes?"
Without missing a beat, Prosser declared, "I’d love for you to be an all-around upgraded Larry Bird. But since you love attacking the rim, I think you’re more likely to be a taller Charles Barkley."
Yabai!
Bird or Barkley?
Talk about poisonous templates!
In Zack’s mory, not a single "Next Bird" ever lived up to the hype.
As for Barkley? The closest guy to him in the future, Zion, was either on a hospital bed or en route to one.
In basketball, Bird and Barkley were like cursed templates—get linked to them, and bad luck followed.
Still, amid Prosser’s wild comparisons, Zack felt a wave of atatakai warmth.
He knew his shishō had poured everything into coaching him these past months. Plus, the guy was so protective, he’d lose it over any dia slight that might hurt Zack’s future.
"No wonder NBA players who went to college miss their coaches so much," Zack thought, watching Prosser.
In December, dead-set on proving the world was sleeping on his disciple, Prosser kept Zack’s minutes tight but gave him more say on the court.
Sure, Zack had his oops monts—dribbling off his foot, sailing the ball out of bounds.
But with a flood of touches, he was soaking up ball-handling experience like a suponji, crafting his own style through real gas.
As the second ball-handler—and the primary one when Paul rested—the "Duke Principal" was evolving at a chōsoku pace under Prosser’s expert care, faster than anyone outside could imagine.
anwhile, in a Christmas special on college hoops by a U.S. network, a pair of wise eyes quietly locked onto Zack.
Too similar!
Kirilenko? Horry? Nani?!
This kid was practically his heir, his montei!
That day, after watching Zack’s sophomore highlight reel, Charles Barkley—who was sick of hearing about "Jordan’s heirs"—lit up with joy.
laker wasn’t out of successors for him!
The mont he saw Zack, Barkley made up his mind.
He’d squash any chance of this kid being tied to other templates.
Swearing to the heavens, Barkley insisted it wasn’t jealousy over Jordan’s legion of heirs that drew him to Zack.
After all, everyone knew Barkley never envied Jordan.
Right.
Never.
"Why’s it that after Michael retired, his NBA heirs keep his na alive, while I’m stuck on the broadcast desk hyping his guys?"
BAM!
In TNT’s studio, Barkley slamd the desk in front of Kenny Smith, fuming to himself.
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