Chapter 22

From the moment Pat Riley drew the second pick in the lottery, he had already given up hope for this year's draft. In his view, the Chicago Bulls would definitely choose Derrick Rose. The choices left for him were Michael Beasley, Russell Westbrook, and O.J. Mayo.

Beasley was a good player, a data monster in college. However, his off-court issues were terrible; he was not enthusiastic about training, and his defense was almost non-existent. O.J. Mayo was also a good player, but only up to a certain height. His position was awkward; he played as a shooting guard, and even if he didn't overlap with Dwyane Wade, there were still significant problems. First, his physical attributes were not strong, and second, he was short, with mediocre defense. If given unlimited shooting rights, he might perform well, but... Miami already had the Heat.

As for Westbrook, he was full of potential, but Miami already had Dwyane Wade and didn't need a second Flash.

Therefore, he had to look at the less popular players, hoping to find a gem, but unfortunately, none of them were gems. Until... last night, he received a video tape from his good friend Powell from across the ocean.

He watched it, and at first, it didn't seem like much. But when he saw the small guy flip a bus, steal the ball from Yi Jianlian, and lead a fast break, he couldn't hold back his excitement anymore.

"It's him!"

Pat Riley slammed his arm down, incredibly excited. He then read Powell's evaluation, which was very similar to his own judgment. Whether it was about Yang Mo's strength, rebounding ability, or fast-break awareness, he agreed with everything. Until the last line: 'A natural leader, a Michael Jordan-type player.'

Seeing this, he couldn't help but be slightly taken aback, muttering, "Powell isn't one to exaggerate. Could this Chinese kid really be like Michael Jordan? I must give him a proper tryout tomorrow."

Pat Riley was skeptical about Powell's last statement because he hadn't seen the footage of the Golden Ding team before Yang Mo came on. Before Yang Mo, the Golden Ding team was a group of lambs ready to be slaughtered. But once Yang Mo came on and dunked twice, the lambs instantly turned into fierce tigers.

The next morning, as soon as Yang Mo woke up, the Miami Heat staff came to invite him to the training facility. This was a great honor for a rookie, as even Michael Beasley hadn't received this treatment the previous days. The person leading the invitation was Miami's General Manager, and if it wasn't for someone important, he wouldn't have come personally.

Yang Mo didn't feel the visit was particularly grand; he thought it was just the result of Powell's arrangement.

When they arrived at the training facility, Pat Riley was already waiting, along with several vice presidents, department heads, and a group of trainers.

Seeing such a large group, Yang Mo felt quite pressured. If he embarrassed himself in front of these people, it would be a huge embarrassment.

"Hello, Mr. Yang Mo," Pat Riley said with a smile as he approached.

"Hello, Mr. Riley," Yang Mo politely shook Pat Riley's hand and, introduced by Pat Riley, shook hands with everyone. The scene felt like a new employee's first day. Yang Mo couldn't help but be surprised; he hadn't even been drafted yet, but it felt like he was already part of the team.

To Pat Riley, Yang Mo was already part of the team. In his view, Yang Mo was an unknown player who wouldn't be chosen by other teams. He could just buy a second-round pick and select him. It was a small investment for a big return, why not?

After a brief chat, they officially began the tryout. Before the tryout, Yang Mo emphasized to Pat Riley, "Mr. Riley, I'm a game player, and many things can't be shown in a tryout."

"Don't worry, don't be nervous," Pat Riley patted Yang Mo's shoulder and said, "We're just doing a simple physical test."

Pat Riley's words were ambiguous, and his eyes seemed to tell Yang Mo: Don't be nervous, we're going to sign you.

Yang Mo wasn't stupid and immediately understood Pat Riley's meaning. He nodded and followed the strength coach to do various tests.

The physical test results were very average, except for his strength.

After the results came out, the strength coach Doug handed the form to Pat Riley, who then compared it with two other physical test forms from his file.

While comparing, Doug said to Pat Riley with some concern, "Boss, isn't choosing him too risky? His physical attributes are average, and he plays in the frontcourt."

"Look at this," Pat Riley said, handing over a form.

Doug took the form and asked, "This is John Stockton's physical test data from back then. What about it?"

"Yang's physical attributes are much better than his," Pat Riley smiled.

"But... he's a frontcourt player," Doug said, puzzled.

At this moment, Pat Riley handed him another physical test form, "Look at this data."

"This is Shaquille O'Neal's data," Doug was still confused.

"Look, Shaq's bench press in 2006 was 295 pounds, though he didn't go all out. But Yang's bench press is 325 pounds, a number no one in the league can match. His deep squat is 62 reps, while Shaq's is 45. And his wingspan is 218 cm. How many frontcourt players in the league have a longer wingspan than him? With strength, wingspan, and a keen sense of rebounding, he can stand his ground in the frontcourt," Pat Riley said confidently. "Let's go see his three-point shooting accuracy."

Saying this, he led Doug to the training facility, where Yang Mo was continuously shooting three-pointers while moving around the three-point line... swish! swish! swish!

Three-pointers one after another, as accurate as throwing stones into the sea.

Ding! Time's up!

The shooting coach, who was recording, stopped the stopwatch, looked at the data in surprise, and then walked to Pat Riley, saying in shock, "Sir, this is terrifying! Where did you find this shooter? I just slightly adjusted his shooting form, and he hit this data."

Pat Riley took the data and saw that in five minutes, Yang Mo had made 289 out of 312 three-point shots.

He was stunned and asked, "Is this result real?"

"Yes, absolutely. This guy has the largest hands I've ever seen. He's a natural shooter. He was using the wrong technique to shoot before. I just corrected it a bit, and he immediately created this miracle. If I train him for two years, he will become the best three-point shooter in NBA history. I'm very sure," the shooting coach Tom said excitedly, having never seen such a talented player.

Hearing this, Pat Riley closed the file folder, overjoyed. A gem! A once-in-a-lifetime gem! Just this shooting ability is worth a first-round pick.

So, he walked to Yang Mo, patted him on the shoulder hard.

Yang Mo was a bit at a loss seeing him so excited.

"Welcome to Miami, buddy!" Pat Riley hugged Yang Mo tightly, almost jumping with excitement. This was the most exciting moment of his life, even more exciting than the birth of his first son.

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[Guys, give me some recommendations! An exciting and passionate NBA career is about to begin.]