One weekend afternoon, in early November, my mother and I scurried through a bustling pedestrian plaza ringed with food trucks in southeast Seoul, eager to get to our first-ever Korean Basketball League game. Once inside, I headed for the bathroom only to find myself flanked at the next urinal by a towering member of the opposing Suwon Sonicboom, whose post-pee return to pregame warmups was interrupted when five fans cornered the big man into posing for pictures.
To his credit, the player obliged each request before politely excusing himself to rejoin his teammates. Ditto for the giant TV that a pair of latex-gloved Thunder team staffers would later escort to midcourt during a timeout for the grand prize in a shooting contest. The contestant airballed his heave and the flatscreen was hauled off.
After all, I had specifically requested that we fit this game into our packed itinerary for a single reason:. Like many stateside, my introduction to the concept of the Korean bank-shot free throw came courtesy of an August tweet from Eric Fawcett , a video coordinator in the Canadian Elite Basketball League.
Headlining the list was No. As warmups wound down, I watched Thunders center Lee Weon-seok step to the line, size up his aim and, in a final act of practice, heave a pair of attempted banks that instead bricked off the rim. On the other end, however, I was delighted to watch my bathroom buddyβstar Sonicboom center, Ha Yun-gi, it turned outβsink all four of his chances before halftime, also via the bank.
Another devotee revealed himself in the third quarter when veteran Thunders guard Lee Jung-hyun went 2-for-2 in his lone trip, adding to a season-long success rate Still, as we headed for the Seoul subway, I had more questions than when we arrived.
