20demayo Chapter 22 Public Apology, Arch-enemies Reconcile
Chapter 22 Public Apology, Arch-enemies Reconcile
The shouts from the United Center in Chicago at the moment the final whistle blew almost shattered the tempered glass.
More than half of the 20,000-plus audience members stood up and chanted in unison, "Apologize! Apologize!"
Amidst the deafening roar, Jay Williams stood in the center of the court, his towel crumpled in his hand, his knuckles white. He looked up at the large screen above him, which was playing the three most glaring moments of the night on a loop: the tomahawk dunk in the first quarter, the spin dunk in the third quarter, and the follow-up putback dunk in the fourth quarter. Three leaps into the air, three times slamming the ball into the basket over his body. Each replay was like a slap in the face.
The numbers on the statistics board were even more glaring: he made 3 of 17 field goals, 0 of 4 three-pointers, scoring only 8 points and 2 assists, along with 4 turnovers, and a plus-minus of -28; while Lin Hao, the "internet celebrity second-round pick" whom he had been mocking for half a month, made 14 of 22 field goals, 2 of 3 three-pointers, and 2 of 2 free throws, scoring 38 points, 7 rebounds, 5 assists, and 3 steals, with a plus-minus of +32, completely crushing him on both ends of the court.
The 30-point difference was like an insurmountable chasm between him, a prodigy, and a second-round pick, shattering all his pride and arrogance.
"Jay, let's go, the press conference is about to start."
His teammate patted him on the shoulder, his tone tinged with pity. Williams took a deep breath, slammed the towel to the ground, and turned to walk towards the player tunnel, each step feeling as heavy as lead. He knew that the nationally televised cameras were waiting for him, waiting for him to fulfill the bet he made before the game.
The away team's locker room on the other side had long since become a sea of joy.
Richardson, carrying Lin Hao's suitcase, emptied out all the canned peaches, stuffing one can into each of their hands, shouting like it was a victory celebration: "Raise them all! To our Canned Peach Bro! Three slams! We crushed that stubborn runner-up!"
"A toast to Canned Food Guy!"
A dozen or so burly black men clattered glass jars together, splashing sweet peach juice everywhere. Lin Hao, leaning against a locker, had just finished applying an ice pack to his ankle. Watching his crazy teammates, he couldn't help but laugh and scold, "Take it easy! We're out of jars. Next time you want some, you'll have to buy it yourselves!"
"No way!" Richardson leaned in, his face full of flattery. "From now on, Jay Williams will buy all the canned peaches for the whole team! A bet's a bet, and if this kid loses, he has to be our caddie for a week and buy us canned peaches for a month!"
As soon as he finished speaking, the team's press officer pushed open the door and walked in, looking at Lin Hao with a helpless expression: "Lin, the press conference is about to start, and the reporters have almost blocked the door. They're all here for you."
Lin Hao raised an eyebrow, tossed the ice pack aside, grabbed a dry training uniform, slipped it on, and stuffed an unopened can of yellow peaches into his pocket before heading out. Richardson immediately followed, patting his chest and saying, "Canned Fruit Bro, I'm going with you! If that kid dares to deny it, I'll shut him up on the spot!"
"Forget it." Lin Hao laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. "He lost the bet, so let's not be unreasonable. Just stay put outside and don't cause me any trouble."
Richardson pursed his lips, but still stopped at the entrance of the press conference. He stubbornly peeked through the crack in the door, like a child sneaking a peek at a spectacle.
The press conference venue was already packed with reporters. When Lin Hao pushed open the door, a flurry of flashes erupted, the clicking of camera shutters more intense than firecrackers at a banquet. He calmly walked to the stage, found a seat, and placed the can of yellow peaches he was holding on the table, eliciting laughter from the reporters below.
Reporters' microphones were immediately shoved at him, and questions rained down like cannonballs, all about the three dunks tonight, the bet with Williams, and the trash talk before the game.
Lin Hao leaned back in his chair, holding the microphone, and spoke slowly in authentic Northeastern dialect: "There's not much to say. On the basketball court, the ball speaks. Before the game, he said I was an internet celebrity and didn't deserve to play in the NBA, so I'll use the ball to tell him that internet celebrities can play basketball, and play well."
He paused, a smile playing on his lips: "As for the three dunks, nothing special. It's just like the lyrics say, 'What you say, you do.' Northeasterners, what you spit out is like nails."
This remark drew another burst of laughter from the reporters in the audience, and the sound of camera shutters went even louder.
Just then, the door to the press conference room was pushed open again, and the entire room fell silent instantly.
Jay Williams walked in, still wearing his Bulls jersey, his hair disheveled, his face expressionless, but the arrogance and aggression he displayed before the game were gone. He went straight to the stage, sat down next to Lin Hao, picked up the microphone in front of him, and his fingers tightened slightly.
The entire room fell silent. All the cameras were pointed at him, and even his breathing could be heard clearly.
Williams remained silent for a full three seconds before finally raising his head to look at the camera. His voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear, and it was broadcast live across the entire United States:
"I would like to formally apologize to Lin Hao here. What I said before the game was too arrogant and one-sided. He is not some internet celebrity, he is a real, top-level basketball player."
He turned his head to look at Lin Hao beside him, his eyes no longer filled with resentment and anger, but only with genuine admiration: "You have completely won this match. You are a stronger player than me, and I apologize for all my disrespectful remarks before."
The moment the words left his mouth, the entire room erupted in chaos!
Reporters' pens were practically smoking from writing, and flashbulbs were going off like crazy. No one expected that this proud Duke prodigy, this year's second overall pick, would so honestly apologize to a second-round pick and admit defeat in front of a nationally televised broadcast.
Lin Hao was also taken aback for a moment, then stood up with a smile and extended his hand to Williams.
"It's alright, we're all just playing basketball. We're fierce rivals on the court, but there's no grudge that can't be resolved off the court." Lin Hao's hand was broad and strong, and when he shook Williams's hand, he could feel the sweat on Williams's palm. "No need for apologies. Being able to have a real battle on the court is better than anything else. Sometime when you're free, I'll treat you to sweet and sour pork, a famous dish from Northeast China, which is much better than trash talk."
Looking into his open and honest eyes, Williams' tense shoulders finally relaxed, and he couldn't help but smile, reaching out to shake hands with him tightly.
After the press conference ended, the two walked out of the venue one after the other and stopped in the empty players' tunnel.
"I've been wanting to ask you this for a while," Williams said first, his tone full of doubt, "How exactly do you know my moves so well? When I dart to the left, you block me in advance; when I move to the right, you stand in position in advance. It's like you know exactly what I'm going to do."
Lin Hao leaned against the wall, casually unscrewed the can of yellow peaches in his pocket, forked a piece of peach and stuffed it into his mouth, and said slowly, "When your right shoulder sinks, you will definitely change direction to the left; when your left hip thrusts, you will inevitably turn and jump shoot. Eight out of ten times you break through, you will take the left route; before a sudden stop and jump shot, your knee will bend half an inch more. These habits are etched into your muscles, and you can't change them."
He looked up at Williams, his eyes filled with the seriousness typical of a youth coach: "Also, when you change direction, your center of gravity is too high. You rely entirely on your upper body to sway, and your lower body doesn't keep up at all. If you encounter a defender with quick feet, you can easily steal the ball. Most importantly, when you land after a breakthrough, your knee always buckles inward. If you keep playing like this, your ACL will eventually have a serious problem."
Williams froze on the spot, his smile vanishing completely, leaving only shock on his face.
He had played basketball for over a decade, from high school to Duke, winning every possible honor, surrounded by praise and accolades. No one had ever described his technical flaws and injury risks so precisely and incisively. Even his own knee problems, which he hadn't noticed, were clearly seen by this opponent who had only played one game with him.
"You..." Williams opened his mouth, but couldn't say a word for a long time. In the end, he could only manage a bitter smile. "Now I realize that I didn't lose unjustly at all."
He took out his phone, opened his contacts, and gestured with his chin towards Lin Hao: "Let's exchange contact information? If I have any questions during training, can I ask you anytime?"
"No problem at all." Lin Hao smiled and gave his number. After the other party saved it, he added, "By the way, to be honest with you, if you ever can't play anymore and want to change your path, come to my youth training camp. With your talent, you're more than qualified to teach kids."
Williams paused for a moment, then burst into laughter and patted Lin Hao's shoulder hard.
He took it as a joke at the time and never imagined that his casual remark would become a self-fulfilling prophecy a few years later.
As the two were chatting, a loud crash suddenly came from around the corner, followed by Richardson's shout: "Hey, hey, hey! Don't stop me! I just want to take a look! My Canned Food Bro is inside!"
Lin Hao and Williams turned their heads and saw Richardson being held by the arms by two security guards, with half of his body leaning into the passageway, and an empty peach canning jar rolling at his feet. The scene was as ridiculous as could be.
Lin Hao couldn't help but facepalm and yelled at the security guard, "Dude, let go, that's my teammate."
The security guard finally released his grip, and Richardson immediately ran over, giving Lin Hao a thumbs-up with an excited expression: "Canned Food Bro! Awesome! You really made us proud!"
Williams shook his head as he watched this scene, and said to Lin Hao with a smile, "Now I understand why your team has such a good atmosphere."
After exchanging a few jokes, the group went their separate ways. Lin Hao followed his teammates back to the hotel, and as soon as he came out of the shower, Richardson pressed him down in front of the computer.
"Canned Food Guy! Look! You're super famous!" Richardson pointed at the screen, his face beaming with excitement. "All-Star voting! Your votes are almost in the top three for Western Conference backcourts! Higher than McGrady and Francis!"
Lin Hao leaned over and took a look. Sure enough, just 24 hours after the 2003 Atlanta All-Star voting channel opened, his name had surged to third place in the Western Conference guard rankings as a dark horse, with votes second only to Kobe and Nash, and even surpassing a number of established All-Star guards.
Domestic fans went even crazier, with the voting channels almost bursting at the seams as everyone voted for him.
Before Lin Hao could say anything, an official notification popped up on the screen from the NBA headquarters.
Lin Hao clicked on it and his face immediately darkened.
The announcement clearly states: Regarding the abnormal All-Star voting data of rookie Lin Hao, the league has officially launched an investigation. The proportion of votes from the Chinese region is seriously excessive, suspected of illegal vote-rigging. If verified, his All-Star participation qualification will be directly revoked.
The announcement immediately went viral across the internet.
Major sports media outlets in Europe and America immediately followed suit, publishing one satirical press release after another, with headlines such as "Celebrity Player Gets into All-Star Game by Buying Vote" and "Farce in the Chinese Market" sweeping across the entire sports world.
Richardson immediately exploded, pointing at the screen and cursing, "These sons of bitches! They were cursing Yao Ming when he was voted higher, and now they're cursing you when you're voted higher! Pure double standards!"
Lin Hao stared at the announcement on the screen, his fingers lightly tapping the table, a cold smile playing on his lips.
He knew that this battle had only just begun.