By Jared Weiss | The Athletic, 2026-02-13 19:51:28
洛杉矶——卡特·布莱恩特 (Carter Bryant) 曾习惯在静默中追逐梦想。
他很小就意识到防守将是他的立身之本，但他是在无需任何语言交流的情况下学会防守的。
布莱恩特是一名 GODA（聋哑人的孙辈），他在一个使用美国手语 (ASL) 的家庭中长大。他学会的第一个手势是“球”。他的母亲是一名手语翻译，父亲曾担任加州聋哑学校河滨分校 (CSDR) 女子篮球队的教练。虽然布莱恩特本人并非聋哑人，但聋哑群体就是他的社区。
正因如此，这位20岁的圣安东尼奥马刺队新秀前锋以一种极少数 NBA 球员经历过的方式磨炼了自己的球技：全程无声。布莱恩特通过与聋哑孩子打野球来学习防守，在那里没有任何口头交流。
“如果我正在防守持球人，而我身后还有其他四个人，你其实完全不知道发生了什么，”布莱恩特告诉 The Athletic，“所以，能够观察余光所及的范围，运用脚步，并拥有一种对比赛的天然直觉，这感觉很不一样。作为球员，我们常把这些视作理所当然，并不经常使用其他感官，因为我们不必如此。”
布莱恩特解释了聋哑球员为何比大多数人更能理解篮球是一项关于信任与投入的运动。当你防守持球人却听不见身后动向时，这是唯一的打球方式。他们必须在比赛动作的间隙进行沟通，然后信任队友会出现在正确的位置上。
为了弥补听觉的缺失，他们学会了在掩护中穿梭，因为他们的其他感官得到了增强。而且，他们学会了全力以赴。
“在篮球运动中，或者就在生活中，很多时候只要你付出努力，90% 的情况下它都能救你一命，”布莱恩特说道。他是周五晚上新秀挑战赛的递补选手，也是周六晚上扣篮大赛在直觉圆顶场馆 (Intuit Dome) 全明星周末的四名参赛者之一。
“我向你保证，如果你去看一场聋哑人的篮球赛，他们打得比你想象中要拼得多。他们会倾尽全力。我试着吸收那种心态和意志。”
在成长过程中，布莱恩特每周都有固定的日程。每天放学后他都在 CSDR 与聋哑学生一起打球，然后前往河滨市的 Grove 公园与同龄的听力健全的孩子打野球。他半天时间在用手语交流，另半天则用语言沟通。他在瓦伦西亚 (Valencia) 和比斯库比亚克 (Biskubiak) 家族身边长大，这两个家族都因对聋哑群体的贡献而备受尊敬。
布莱恩特的外祖母谢莉·弗里德 (Shelly Freed) 是 CSDR 的一名管理人员。他的外祖父迈克·“博士”·托雷斯 (Mike “Doc” Torres) 曾凭借出众球技入选美国聋哑篮球名人堂。（“我听到的每个人都说，‘你外公是个狠角色。’所以我相信他们的话，”布莱恩特说。）他的祖父母是聋哑社区的代表人物。
“在很长一段时间里，我都以为人口中有一半是聋哑人，另一半是听力健全的人，”布莱恩特说，“因为在我成长的环境里，半天时间都在和聋哑人相处。另外半天走在路上，我也会遇到很多聋哑人。”
马刺新秀卡特·布莱恩特回顾他在聋哑社区成长经历。 (照片：Jared Weiss / The Athletic)
作为一个处于聋哑世界中的听力健全的孩子，他在那种可感的宁静中找到了舒适感。升入九年级时的一次断腿经历让他意识到自己有多渴望成为职业球员。他开始每天训练四次，在球场上摆放锥桶，以便在四下无人时逼迫自己突破极限。陪伴他的只有篮球撞击木地板的声音，以及球鞋在地板上摩擦的吱吱声。他爱上了这种苦练。
这种精神支撑他走过了高中和一年的大学生涯，并最终让他成为去年夏天 NBA 选秀大会的14号秀，落户圣安东尼奥。但在顶级水平的赛场上，只有锥桶是不够的。
“我当时想得太多了，就像个完美主义者，”他说，“我来到这里，看到了和真人对抗的频率有多高，这才是球员们进步神速的原因。”
当他为争取上场时间而挣扎时，马刺队赛后的训练赛小组成了他的战场。布莱恩特与其他替补球员一起打对抗赛，包括比斯马克·比永博 (Bismack Biyombo)、凯利·奥利尼克 (Kelly Olynyk)、乔丹·麦克劳克林 (Jordan McLaughlin)、林迪·沃特斯 (Lindy Waters)，以及在他本周被裁掉之前的杰里米·索汉 (Jeremy Sochan)。他每天都尝试在索汉这位极具侵扰性的侧翼防守下持球突破，然后试着限制麦克劳克林这样灵巧的后卫，或者在禁区对抗比永博这样肉盾般的中锋。他开始理解那些让球员在 NBA 立足多年的习惯，学习如何反制并利用这些特点。只是这些努力尚未转化到正式比赛中。
他一方面感激队友们让他快速了解 NBA 比赛，另一方面又渴望成为那种赛后不必再与替补席末端球员打对抗赛级别的球员。
“我不想打球只为了做一个角色球员。我想成为历史上最伟大的球员之一，”布莱恩特说，“我想进入那个讨论范畴。那些伟大的球员大多有一种‘老子不在乎’的心态。你必须极度偏执。我觉得我在训练时很偏执，但还没在场上表现出来。我敢肯定大家都能看出来。”
在本赛季的前几个月里，这种表现显而易见。布莱恩特坦言，他动起来像个机器人。他高高跃起准备扣篮，却因为身体太僵硬而扣飞。队友们甚至跟他开玩笑，如果他连续扣飞三个，就要剃光他的头。
“虽然是玩笑，但也反映了现实。他们跟我开玩笑是想让我别再扣飞了，但我确实得停止那该死的失误，”布莱恩特说，“如果我一直扣飞，我就不可能成为扣篮大赛冠军。所以你要好坏兼收，接受随之而来的笑声。”
布莱恩特试着保持与儿时自我的联系，花时间寻找并与聋哑群体的成员互动。自从加盟马刺队以来，他参加了德克萨斯州聋哑学校举办的多次活动。他经常在路过球队酒店前台时，看到聋哑的 DoorDash 配送员并主动提供翻译帮助。他会向逛 Target 超市时遇到的聋哑家庭热情地打招呼，只为了巩固那种隐藏在日常生活中的社区归属感。
但在 1 月初连续几次扣篮失手后，马刺队教练米奇·约翰逊 (Mitch Johnson) 将布莱恩特下放到 G 联盟的奥斯汀马刺队去寻找状态。布莱恩特本占据着一个可以由索汉或沃特斯填补的轮换名额，但他当时还不信任自己的球技。约翰逊必须给其他人机会，同时让 20 岁的布莱恩特想清楚。
“我当时想，我不想搞砸，”布莱恩特说，“我记得我和米奇谈过，他说：‘你得学着别那么在乎。我希望你放开打，希望你享受比赛。’”
布莱恩特在奥斯汀的一场比赛中砍下 15 分，终于感受到了持球时的自由和一份自信，这让他带着信心回到了圣安东尼奥。他在赛后的训练赛中表现得更加大胆，不再害怕出手任何机会球，在防守端也敢于冒险。
他更了解队友的习惯了，但他终于记起了成长过程中与聋哑朋友打球时的教训。他的重心从过分纠结于完美防守眼前的球员，转向了信任身边的队友。
约翰逊很欣赏他在布莱恩特身上看到的转变，在过去几周里给了这位新秀更多的上场时间。现在布莱恩特能投进三分球（过去 15 场比赛命中率 38.5%），能做出有影响力的防守动作，甚至能扣进（绝大多数）球了。
他展现出的闪光点足以让 NBA 邀请他参加周六的扣篮大赛。布莱恩特坦言这很突然，他承认自己本赛季只有九次扣篮尝试，而且扣丢了大约一半。这在某种程度上也反映了扣篮大赛目前的尴尬处境，联盟正苦于凑齐一套拥有国民知名度的参赛名单。
但这对布莱恩特来说无所谓。他带着刚编好的发辫来到洛杉矶，看起来与马刺队前核心前锋、且球风与他雏形相似的卡怀·伦纳德 (Kawhi Leonard) 惊人地神似。在空旷的球场上与锥桶度过了生命的大部分时间后，布莱恩特将登上 NBA 的中心舞台，再次获得一个向那个顶级讨论范畴迈进的机会。
“说来也巧，我有机会把那些扣飞的球都补回来了。”
他可能会在那里献上一场精彩的表演，也可能会因为频频打铁而早早出局并告别那些发辫。但他一直在努力。正如他从小在聋哑社区打球时学到的那样，现在他必须信任这份努力。
“我认为失聪是一种超能力，”布莱恩特说，“他们总能找到生存并不断前行的方法。”
由生成式人工智能翻译，译文内容可能不准确或不完整，以原文为准。
点击查看原文：Spurs rookie Carter Bryant learned basketball in silence. Now, his game is getting louder
Spurs rookie Carter Bryant learned basketball in silence. Now, his game is getting louder
LOS ANGELES — Carter Bryant used to chase his dreams in silence.
He realized from an early age that defense was going to be his calling card, but he learned defense without calling out anything.
Bryant is a GODA (grandchild of deaf adults) who grew up in a household that spoke American Sign Language (ASL). The first word he signed was “ball.” His mother is an ASL interpreter. His father coached the girls basketball team at the California School for the Deaf in Riverside (CSDR). While Bryant himself is not deaf, the deaf community is his community.
It’s why the 20-year-old San Antonio Spurs rookie forward developed his game in a way few NBA players have: without a word. Bryant learned defense by playing pick-up with deaf kids, where there was no verbal communication.
“If I’m guarding the ball and I have four other people behind me, you kind of have no idea what’s going on,” Bryant told The Athletic. “So being able to check out your peripherals, use your feet and just have a sense of natural feel for the game, it’s different. We take it for granted as players, and we don’t use our other senses as much, but we don’t have to.”
Bryant explained how deaf players, more than most, understand basketball as a sport of trust and dedication. That’s the only way to play when you’re defending the ball and can’t hear what’s behind you. They have to communicate in the moments between action, then trust their teammates to be in the right position.
To compensate, they learn to move through ball screens because their other senses are so enhanced. And they learn to play all out.
“There’s a lot of times where in basketball, or just in life, if you put effort towards something, it is going to save you 90 percent of the time,” said Bryant, a late addition to Friday night’s Rising Stars competition and one of four entries in Saturday night’s dunk contest at All-Star Weekend in the Intuit Dome.
“I promise you, if you go watch a deaf basketball game, they play a lot harder than you would. They play their ass off. I try to adopt that mentality and that mindset.”
Growing up, Bryant had a consistent routine throughout his week. He played at CSDR after school every day with deaf students, then went to the Grove in Riverside to play pick-up with hearing kids around his age. He spent half the day speaking ASL, then the other half speaking verbally. He grew up around the Valencia and Biskubiak families, both revered for their impact on the deaf community.
Bryant’s maternal grandmother, Shelly Freed, is an administrator at CSDR. His maternal grandfather, Mike “Doc” Torres, played his way into the USA Deaf Basketball Hall of Fame. (“Everybody I’ve heard from said, ‘Your grandpa was a bad boy.’ So I’m going to take their word for it,” Bryant said.) His grandparents were fixtures of the deaf community.
“For the longest time, I thought half the population was deaf and half the population was hearing,” Bryant said. “Because, just how I was brought up, half my day was spent with deaf people. Half of my day was just walking around, and I would come across so many deaf people.”
Spurs rookie Carter Bryant reflects on his upbringing as part of the deaf community. (Photo by Jared Weiss / The Athletic)
He found comfort in the audible tranquility of being a hearing kid in a deaf world. Breaking his leg entering ninth grade helped him realize just how badly he wanted to play basketball professionally. He started working out four times a day, setting up cones around the court so he could push himself when nobody else was around. Just the sound of the ball hitting the hardwood and his sneakers squeaking against the court. He fell in love with the work.
That carried him through high school and a season in college, eventually landing him in San Antonio with the 14th pick in last summer’s NBA Draft. But at the top level, the cones weren’t enough.
“I was just overthinking everything, just being a perfectionist,” he said. “I got here and saw how much you play against live bodies, and that’s why guys get so much better.”
As he struggled to find minutes, the Spurs’ post-practice play groups became his battleground. Bryant scrimmages with other bench players like Bismack Biyombo, Kelly Olynyk, Jordan McLaughlin, Lindy Waters and, until he was waived this past week, Jeremy Sochan. He spent every day trying to put the ball on the floor while being guarded by a disruptive wing in Sochan, then trying to contain a quick guard like McLaughlin or body up a brick-wall big like Biyombo. He began to understand the tendencies that keep some players in the NBA for years, learning how to counter and then take advantage of them. It just wasn’t translating to the actual games yet.
He was simultaneously grateful to his teammates, who gave him a crash course on the NBA game, while being driven to become the level of player who never has to scrimmage with the other reserves after practice.
“I don’t want to play the game of basketball to just be a role player. I want to be amongst the greatest that ever played the game,” Bryant said. “I want to be in that conversation. A lot of those guys have a ‘Don’t give an f—‘ mentality. You have to be super delusional. I think I was delusional in my work, but it wasn’t showing yet on the court. I’m sure everybody could tell.”
In the opening months of the season, it was obvious. Bryant moved like a robot, by his own admission. He skied for dunks, then missed, because he was too stiff. It got to the point that his teammates told him they’d shave his head if he missed three dunks in a row.
“As much as something’s a joke, it’s the reality of the situation, too. They’re joking around with me to stop missing dunks, but I need to stop missing damn dunks,” Bryant said. “I can’t be a dunk contest champion if I miss dunks. So you take the good with the bad. You take the laughs that come with it.”
Bryant tried to stay connected to his younger self, taking time to seek out and interact with members of the deaf community. He has participated in several events with deaf schools in Texas since joining the Spurs. He often sees deaf DoorDash delivery drivers and offers to help translate when he walks by the front desk of the team hotel. He’ll say a warm hello to a deaf family walking through Target, just to fortify the sense of community hiding in plain sight.
But after a series of missed dunks in early January, Spurs coach Mitch Johnson sent Bryant to the Austin Spurs in the G League to find himself. Bryant had taken a spot in the rotation that could have been filled by Sochan or Waters, but he didn’t trust his game yet. Johnson had to give someone else a chance while the 20-year-old Bryant figured things out.
“I was like, I don’t want to mess up,” Bryant said. “I remember, I talked to Mitch, and he was like, ‘You’ve got to stop caring. I want you to not care. I want you to go and play. I want you to have fun.’”
Bryant scored 15 points in his one game in Austin, finally feeling a freedom on the ball and a dose of swag that sent him back to San Antonio with confidence. He was more daring in the post-practice play groups, not afraid to shoot whatever shot he could find or take risks on defense.
He understood his teammates’ tendencies better, but he finally remembered the lessons he learned playing with his deaf friends growing up. His emphasis shifted to trusting his teammates alongside him rather than fixating on defending the player in front of him to perfection.
Johnson liked what he saw from Bryant and opened up more minutes for the rookie over the past few weeks. Now Bryant is hitting 3s (38.5 percent over his last 15 games), making impact defensive plays and even making (most of) his dunks.
He showed enough flashes for the NBA to invite him to Saturday’s dunk contest. Bryant admitted it came out of nowhere, acknowledging he’s only attempted nine dunks and missed about half of them. It’s a sign of the sad state of affairs that is the dunk contest, where the league is struggling to cobble together a crew with any household recognition.
But that’s fine for Bryant. He arrived in Los Angeles with freshly rolled braids, looking eerily reminiscent of a former Spurs wing with whom his nascent game resembles, Kawhi Leonard. After spending so much of his life on an empty court, just him and the cones, Bryant will be on the NBA’s center stage with another opportunity to take a step toward being in that conversation.
“Oddly enough, I got the chance to get back all those missed dunks.”
He may go out there and put on a show, or he may brick his way to an early exit and a farewell to those braids. But he’s been putting in the work. As he learned growing up playing with his deaf community, now he has to trust it.
“I see being deaf as a super power,” Bryant said. “They find a way to just survive and advance.”
By Jared Weiss, via The Athletic