NBA: Warrior godfather.

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The living room was cluttered with all sorts of miscellaneous items. The dining table was buried under a pile of takeout boxes, mostly from McDonald's and KFC. Just like his original self, Liam had a particular fondness for fried chicken burgers.

The small kitchen was piled high with unwashed dishes and greasy plates, while the bedroom was littered with dirty clothes and pants, giving off a musty odor.

Such was the price of becoming an NCAA head coach at the age of 23.

When you devote all your energy to one thing, it's hard to focus on anything else.

Liam surveyed the entire apartment and felt a pang of emotion.

He remembered reading somewhere that when your life is a mess, you might be succeeding at work.

Although Liam wasn't particularly fastidious, he couldn't tolerate such a living environment. He made up his mind and quickly began his "Apartment Cleaning Operation."

"Damn it, it's finally done..."

Liam spent three hours cleaning the apartment, leaving some of the finer details for later.

The trash he collected filled three large garbage bags, which he struggled to carry downstairs and dispose of.

Exhausted, Liam collapsed on the sofa, turned the air conditioner to the lowest setting, and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a towel.

It was already 10 o'clock in the evening. A crescent moon hung high in the sky, its soft light filtering through the stars. The well-insulated windows muffled the sounds of passing students, allowing only faint chatter and laughter to reach Liam's ears.

Staring blankly out the window, he watched as a few wisps of thin clouds floated by, half-covering the moon. The moonlight was like a soft, foggy veil. A thought that had been lingering since he arrived here became overwhelmingly clear.

I traveled through time and space to be here. Are my parents terribly sad?

During the day, Liam had been busy adapting to his new identity and interacting with various people, leaving him no time to think about his past life. Now that he had a moment to relax, his thoughts turned to his parents.

He froze for a moment, then frantically searched for his phone. With trembling fingers, he found a familiar number in his contacts, stared at it for a full minute, and then gritted his teeth and dialed.

"Beep... Beep..."

"Hello, Liam, today isn't Saturday. Why are you calling?" A middle-aged woman's voice, filled with pleasant surprise, answered the phone.

Hearing the familiar Spanish accent, Liam felt a wave of relief wash over him. He replied softly but firmly, "Mom, I miss you."

The memories of the original body were correct. Liam's parents in this life were the same as his parents in his previous life, only a dozen years younger.

His parents hadn't changed; his home hadn't changed.

"What's wrong with you? Didn't we just talk a few days ago? What did you have for lunch? Oh, I forgot, it's late evening in the United States now. What did you eat?" Maria González asked, her voice filled with concern.

Liam's mother was surprised by her son's sudden affectionate words, but she was also delighted to hear from him. She immediately began asking about his well-being.

"I had steak..."

The nagging that used to annoy him now felt comforting. Liam answered her questions in detail, feeling an inexplicable urge to cry.

After half an hour, Liam reluctantly hung up the phone.

Meanwhile, in faraway Colombia, Maria González stared at the call duration on her phone and said to Liam's father, Javier González, "Javier, why do I feel like Liam was acting a bit strange today? He didn't seem bothered by my nagging."

"You're hard to please, aren't you? You're unhappy when I nag you, and you're still unhappy when I don't. What do you want?" Javier quipped.

Maria was in a good mood, smiling and not angry. In the past, Javier would have been nagged all night.

After hanging up the phone, Liam washed up, returned to his bedroom, and lay down on the bed. But he couldn't sleep. McCabe Shrewsbury's words kept echoing in his mind: "At least make it to the top 16."

For Liam, before he had traveled through time, this would have been an almost impossible task. But now...

"You must be in the darkest moment of your life now..." Liam suddenly opened his eyes.

He turned over and looked at the window. The curtains were drawn tight, but the moonlight and starlight pierced through, casting a dim but steady light on the floor.

…

The next day, Liam arrived at Hinkle Fieldhouse early, and the Bulldogs players were also gathering for training.

Stevens walked in wearing an American shirt. Seeing Liam, he was surprised and said, "Liam, did you stay up all night watching game videos again?"

"No, I'm just a little excited and couldn't sleep." Liam replied weakly.

He had deep bags under his eyes, his eyes were bloodshot, his face pale, and his hair was a messy tangle, with a few strands standing stubbornly upright.

"Are you sure you just didn't sleep well and not that you didn't sleep at all?"

"I slept… Okay, I admit it, I only got three hours of sleep last night." Liam yawned loudly.

Matthew Graves walked over with a serious expression, "Liam, I get that becoming head coach is a big deal for you, but you've got to get enough rest. There's still half a year until the next season. Are you going to burn the midnight oil every day for the next six months?"

"I really just didn't sleep well yesterday..." Liam tried to explain, but seeing everyone's skeptical looks, he gave up.

He had been thinking a lot last night, so he got up in the middle of the night and wrote down many things from his past life to avoid forgetting them.

In his previous life, these things were just Liam's "weapons" in online debates. But now, they are critical "knowledge reserves" that will determine how far Liam can go as a head coach.

"Liam, go get some rest. We'll handle the training," Matthew Graves suggested.

"Yeah, you're just here to watch anyway," Stevens added.

"…"

Liam was speechless. Stevens' words were blunt, but not wrong.

He couldn't help but yawn again. "Ha... Fine, I'll head back..."

"Beep…"

At that moment, Matthew Graves' phone rang. He raised his hand to signal, took a few steps to the side, and answered:

"Hello, Miguel... You went to see Coach Lickliter, huh? I bet he's thrilled... What's on your mind... What? You accepted Ohio State's offer?!... Well, good luck, Miguel."

Finally, Matthew Graves hung up and walked over with a grim expression.

"What happened? Is there a problem with recruiting?" Liam felt most of his sleepiness disappear at once and asked quickly.

"Miguel Conley, a talented high school player from Lawrence North High School, turned us down and chose Ohio State University," Matthew said helplessly.

"Miguel Conley? He's a genius who made the McDonald's All-American High School team. It was always a long shot for him to choose Butler, right?" Stevens was puzzled.

Matthew explained, "Coach Lickliter had been following Miguel Conley since he was a freshman. He attended almost all of North Lawrence High School's games in recent years and stayed in close contact with him. Miguel was undecided about which school to attend and was even considering Butler."

"Why did he choose Ohio State?" Stevens asked.

"After Coach Lickliter was injured, Miguel became hesitant," Matthew looked at Liam and hesitated, "And after he learned Liam was the new head coach... he made up his mind."

Matthew didn't say everything, but everyone understood the implication.

Miguel Conley didn't trust a 23-year-old Colombian head coach. Liam's appointment shattered the last chance of him joining the Bulldogs.

Even though the coaching staff knew it would be hard to recruit someone like Miguel Conley, his reason for rejecting them still stung: If Lickliter were still head coach, would Miguel Conley have chosen Butler?

Although Liam didn't know exactly what they were thinking, he could guess. He understood that he was facing the first challenge of his head coaching career: how to build a strong lineup.

The original body had been obsessively watching game videos, worried about this very issue. He watched the game footage of almost every high school in Indiana, hoping to find talented players worth recruiting.

However, as skilled as his predecessor was in basketball tactics, his ability to judge talent was quite poor. In that sense, he was on par with the legendary Michael Jordan, whose track record for scouting was less than stellar.

But this wasn't a problem for Liam. Nobody knew better than him who would become a future superstar.

He stood there calmly with a faint smile on his lips, his left hand on his chest, his right hand rubbing his chin, his gaze distant as if he were lost in thought—or perhaps anticipation. It was as if it wasn't Miguel Conley rejecting the Bulldogs, but rather Liam rejecting Miguel Conley.

"Matthew, let's move on to the next recruit," Stevens said.

Note: This novel as you see I changed the name and nationality, as such is more complicated translate it I hope you support it.