"Wow!"
There were low exclamations from all around the training ground, and emotions of admiration and excitement surged violently as people exchanged glances at each other in bewilderment.
Not only because of the way this round ended, but more because of the confidence that Gawain displayed in his every move, which was restrained and low-key yet sharp.
The final blow was purely a ball of ability, a perfect collision of skill and strength.
But on the court, the Bruins players were not too excited.
There is no need to make a fuss. When players reach the NCAA level, or even below the Challenge Tournament level, they can often hit one or two amazing magic shots. It is not worthy of admiration because there is more or less some luck behind it. Unless the magic shots can be strung together, it is real ability.
For the players, what they really noticed was the effortless control. The constantly changing hitting techniques continued to break the rhythm of the round. The understated hitting showed the ball control ability to the fullest. It was truly possible to hit wherever the point was, and a dragnet was set up silently.
The background is evident from this.
"Huff, huff, huff..."
MacDonald was breathing heavily.
His stomach was still churning, with waves of acid rising up, as if he might vomit again at any time; not only his knees, but also his fingertips began to tremble slightly, and his whole body was so sore that he couldn't accurately tell which part was sore. For a moment, he felt uncomfortable all over and something was wrong with him.
Somewhat overdrawn.
But it is really hard to believe. McDonald felt that he had found his form in this round.
Is this reasonable?
His chest heaved violently like a bellows. McDonald supported his body with his racket and looked up at the guy across the court.
Gawain didn't say anything more, but picked up another tennis ball and gestured: "Another round?"
Huh! McDonald exhaled heavily, bent down to adjust the laces and tongue of his sneakers, and responded directly with action without saying anything.
He returned to the baseline again, holding the racket with both hands, ready to hit the ball.
"Game", the second round, begins -
Back and forth.
You push me and I block you.
Pull forward and backward.
The whole round of hitting presented a wonderful situation: McDonald hit the ball with all his strength, mainly relying on power and speed, and the sound of the wind could be felt with every swing.
Gao Wen tried his best to control the ball, focusing on rotation and landing point, controlling the landing point while taking advantage of the opponent's force, showing top-level ball control feel.
On one side, there was a powerful and continuous thunder, one wave after another.
On one side, he was nonchalant, gentle on the outside but strong on the inside, controlling the overall situation with little effort.
On the same court, two styles and two states, a head-on confrontation ensues.
Of course, the difference in strength between the two players is far less exaggerated than it seems.
On the one hand, McDonald took care of Gawain. He knew that Gawain was just warming up and relaxing, so there was no need to be too serious. He should focus more on himself. Naturally, the return of the ball would not be a deadly fighting style, which also gave Gawain more control space.
On the other hand, McDonald has exhausted all his physical energy, and he cannot always achieve the best effect with every shot. After the fierce confrontation in the first three shots, he will soon fall into a physical vortex, and in order to ensure the quality of the subsequent returns, he has to sacrifice changes.
This is how the current situation came about.
However, I have to admit that the back and forth exchanges are really exciting.
——“Ugh!”
Seeing this ball, McDonald stopped and turned sharply again, a roar broke out from the depths of his dantian, he exerted all his strength, pushed off the ground, and sprinted forward.
Across the field.
In fact, Gawain's controlled shot changed again. He used the strength of his wrist to lightly lift the ball. It was not a flat shot, but a high-raised loop ball, aiming at the big triangle at the bottom line of McDonald's forehand position. The arc was high and the speed was slow. It didn't look too threatening at all.
But MacDonald was in a very bad state. Very, very bad state.
My lungs were burning, my knees were shaking, my muscles were exploding, my mind was buzzing, and the surging bloody smell seemed about to explode.
At this moment, his mind was blank, and he was just running relying on his instinct. He finally got back to the forehand position from the backhand position, but the hitting point was already above his head. The parabola that Gawain hit was deep and spinning, and the rotation was fully released after it bounced off the ground, like a rocket soaring into the sky.
MacDonald couldn't swing the racket completely, and in the end he could only stretch his hands diagonally above his head.
I hit it! But I had no control at all, and I could even feel the tennis ball squeezing the racket.
The next second, the tennis ball flew into the sky like an anti-aircraft gun.
"ah!"
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McDonald roared in frustration, but this time, he did not feel depressed or heavy. Instead, he released all the turbid and chaotic negative emotions, and roared again without control.
"ah!"
As he shouted, the corners of McDonald's mouth rose slightly, he felt refreshed and comfortable, the exhilarating feeling rising from the soles of his feet all the way to the top of his head. His body bent like a shrimp, and he supported his knees with his elbows, barely standing, and then he stood up tremblingly.
Then, McDonald looked at Gawain across the court, expressing his protest and appeal with his eyes.
"game……"
"That's not how the game is played... You... You don't have martial ethics!"
As he spoke, MacDonald didn't realize that a smile welled up in his eyes. He wiped the sweat off his face and panted, looking at Gawain with bright eyes.
Gawain spread his hands, "Isn't this how you play Tom and Jerry?"
One second, two seconds——
Boom! There was a burst of laughter all around. Thinking carefully, Gao Wen's description was indeed very vivid, and the whole picture was simply amazing!
MacDonald didn't know how to respond. He looked helpless and hopeless. He stood there with his hands on his hips, his chest heaving violently.
After thinking for a while, MacDonald raised a finger towards Gawain, the one in the middle of his left hand.
Ha! The laughter became even louder, and even Martin in the stands was no exception.
Especially after seeing Gao Wen's innocent expression, the atmosphere became more lively.
Be it training or games, Gawain and McDonald did not continue. Seeing that McDonald's calves were trembling and he was almost cramping, it was even difficult for him to stand. If he continued to hit the ball, it would probably be ineffective and he might even get injured.
However, the training ground was not idle, and two young players immediately came on the field, ready to take over.
Watching them whispering to each other, their faces filled with excitement as they were eager to try, Martin shook his head slightly and smiled.
“These guys.”
It was clear at first glance that they were going to imitate Gawain, but only by actually trying would they know that Gawain's movements looked effortless, but in fact they required strong control and delicate touch, and were much more difficult than one might imagine.
Martin did not say anything to discourage the enthusiasm of these young people, so that they could truly feel the gap.