Chapter 25

Eric Gordon felt that his team would definitely win, but reality soon slapped him in the face.

From the tip-off, Beasley's team firmly controlled the pace of the game. Although they lacked a point guard, their determination to play inside was very clear. OJ Mayo almost passed every ball into the paint.

In theory, OJ Mayo was not a pass-first guard. Perhaps because he knew he had no chance of being the top pick, or perhaps because he wanted to show everyone through this game that he could pass, to improve his draft position.

Beasley's team focused on the inside, while Rose's team seemed to have no clear ball distribution. Sometimes Westbrook controlled the ball, sometimes Derrick Rose did, with no clear tactical core. Everyone was playing individually. The already weak inside game was reduced to just running back and forth, with nothing else to do except for passing the ball.

Being dominated by Beasley's team's inside players was already frustrating, and not getting the ball in his own team made it even worse.

Gradually, Anderson and Ibaka started to show their frustration, and their actions on the court became increasingly消极. They thought, if you want to show off, go ahead, but losing the game won't be our fault.

With the two inside players being消极, the already weak inside game was now virtually non-existent. Derrick Rose and Westbrook had to work even harder to break through and create scoring opportunities. The more they played individually, the more frustrated and消极 Ibaka and Anderson became, leading to a vicious cycle.

After ten minutes, Beasley's team was leading 34-16, an 18-point lead.

There was basically no suspense left, as everyone had agreed to play only for 15 minutes.

Finally, at the 10-minute mark, the emotions on the court erupted. When Derrick Rose drew a foul from Brook Lopez and went to the free-throw line, Ibaka walked straight off the court.

"I'm done. Whoever wants to play, go ahead." Ibaka threw a towel over his shoulder and walked towards the locker room.

This sudden turn of events caught everyone off guard. Although everyone could see that Ibaka was unhappy on the court, no one expected him to quit outright.

With Ibaka gone, the general managers watching the game lost all interest. Now, Rose's team had only Yang Mo as an inside player. A Chinese player with average physical attributes and poor athleticism—what could he possibly do?

So, some of the general managers and scouts left.

At this point, the other players on Rose's team also had the idea of giving up, except for Westbrook and Derrick Rose, who were still fighting hard. They believed the game wasn't over yet.

In the midst of the team's消极, Yang Mo stepped onto the court and shouted, "Guys, the game isn't over yet. Let's play run-and-gun and wear them out."

Yang Mo's motivational words immediately sparked different reactions. Westbrook, who still had the fighting spirit, was invigorated. Anderson, however, threw in the towel: "If you want to play, go ahead."

Saying this, he walked off the court, not forgetting to mock Yang Mo: "Who do you think you are? A little guy."

"Who I am doesn't matter. What matters is, who are you?" Yang Mo sneered, "You're showing us what a coward without balls looks like."

"You!" Anderson turned around, glaring at Yang Mo.

Yang Mo ignored him and turned to Eric Gordon, saying, "Come on, buddy. Didn't you say we could win? Let's win together."

Hearing this, Eric Gordon quickly ran up. Before he did, he shouted, "Win!"

With Eric Gordon on the court, Yang Mo immediately gathered Westbrook, Rose, and Batum: "Guys, we're down by 15 points. We have to play fast. Whoever has the ball, attacks. Whoever is open, gets the pass. We're so strong, why should we lose to those big guys?"

Yang Mo's words stirred the blood of these young, passionate black players. They shouted in their hearts, "Yes! We're so strong, why should those big guys win?"

"Rebounds are mine. Let's run!" Yang Mo put his hand in the center, and the other four immediately slapped their hands on top.

"One, two, three, win (Winer!)!"

The five players roared, instantly showing a strong and determined spirit, dispelling the previous fatigue.

Seeing that the five players on Rose's team were not discouraged by the departure of the two inside players but instead became even more spirited, Michael Jordan, sitting on the sidelines, was taken aback. His eyes were locked on Yang Mo.

At that moment, he clearly saw a shadow of his younger self in Yang Mo.

"Who is this kid?" Michael Jordan turned to the assistant beside him and asked.

"A Chinese kid. Plays power forward, barefoot height is only 6'5", average physical attributes," the assistant said briefly, with a hint of disdain in his tone.

Clearly, Yang Mo didn't impress him.

But Michael Jordan frowned. He felt a familiar connection with Yang Mo, as if they were of the same kind. He asked, "Does he have any standout qualities?"

"His bench press and squat numbers are decent, and his wingspan is 7'3" (2.18 meters)," the assistant continued.

Michael Jordan nodded, now interested in Yang Mo. If he performed well, he would definitely sign him with a second-round pick. Not for any other reason, but for his ability to motivate his teammates in adversity, which made him a potential excellent locker room leader.

Soon, the referee announced that the game would continue.

Swish!

Derrick Rose made the first free throw.

Thud!

Derrick Rose missed the second free throw. The ball bounced high, and Brook Lopez, standing under the basket, tried to grab the rebound. But he felt a strong force on his waist, lost his balance, and stumbled forward. By the time he regained his footing, he saw a shadow above him. Looking up, he saw the ball being gently tapped by a large hand... Swish!

The ball, which had deviated from its path, fell back into the basket!

Brook Lopez was still confused when he heard a roar behind him: "Brothers, we're down by 13 points!"

By the time he turned around, he saw the short guy already sprinting towards the other end of the court.

Brook Lopez didn't understand what had happened, but Michael Jordan, sitting in the stands, saw everything. The moment Yang Mo jumped and tapped the ball into the basket, a figure flashed in his mind, and he immediately said, "Dennis Rodman."

"His rebounding anticipation is incredible. Lopez was clearly a step... no, two steps behind," Michael Jordan said to the assistant.

The assistant, however, was reluctant to believe it. To him, it was just a lucky tap by Yang Mo. More importantly, through the Charlotte Bobcats' recent drafts, the assistant no longer trusted his boss. Michael Jordan had made several poor draft choices in recent years, and none of the players he selected had proven themselves.

After quickly running to the other end, the players on Rose's team, under Yang Mo's direction, formed a 2-3 zone defense. Yang Mo was in the center, and if any inside player tried to post up against him, the nearby players would double-team.

It was a last-ditch effort, given the significant height difference. Fortunately, everyone was highly motivated, with a strong desire to win in their eyes.

Due to Rose's team's intense defense, the inside players had to pass the ball out. OJ Mayo took a three-pointer from beyond the arc... Thud!

The shot missed.

Yang Mo quickly turned and spread his arms to block the paint.

Anthony Randolph, standing at the free-throw line, tried to use his athleticism to grab the rebound. But when he collided with Yang Mo, his speed immediately stopped, and his body crumpled... He clutched his stomach and groaned in pain.

Yang Mo, however, felt nothing but a slight tingling in his back.

"Is this what you call 'decent strength?'" Michael Jordan turned to the assistant, eyes wide.

"What? What's wrong?" The assistant didn't understand. Although he studied sports, he had never played basketball and didn't know how powerful the collisions on the court could be.

Randolph had sprinted at full speed and collided with Yang Mo. Logically, Yang Mo should have taken the brunt of the impact, but he stood firm, not moving an inch. Randolph, on the other hand, crumpled and clutched his stomach. The strength...

It was insane!

Michael Jordan had made up his mind: he would sign this Chinese kid at Madison Square Garden the day after tomorrow.

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