Chapter Ninety: Disappointing Them Again

The old media trick is to praise first, then tear down. For He Xinghui, it was especially true, because he was Chinese and carried an air of novelty with him.

When He Xinghui first began to make a name for himself, even if his performances were not especially dazzling, the papers were full of praise, and the coverage was relentless.

After all, a strong showing from an American rookie was hardly news; it happened all the time. But a Chinese rookie turning heads—that was a rare thing indeed.

Once the praise reached a certain point, and the audience had grown used to it, the media liked to swing the other way and start hammering away.

Because of He Xinghui’s identity, their desire to diminish him burned even hotter.

Most of these reporters were Americans, and they had feelings of their own. Naturally, they did not want a Chinese player stealing too much of the spotlight, let alone overshadowing the homegrown talent.

Still, if they were going to criticize someone, they needed a reason. They could not make too ugly a meal of it.

So all the sports writers across North America were waiting for He Xinghui to lose.

Only if he lost could they put pen to paper and tear him apart from a hundred and eight different angles.

On the sixteenth, the Clippers faced the Jazz.

A group of reporters led by Johnson had taken up positions early, waiting for the game to end.

For them, the process did not matter. Only the result did.

As long as the Clippers lost, or He Xinghui played badly, their trip would not have been wasted.

"Defense, defense!"

Johnson was so caught up in it that he actually began shouting along with the crowd.

Then came the sight he dreaded.

He Xinghui suddenly launched a cold-blooded three, and it went in.

"Shit, Gordon is useless."

Johnson flew into a rage and, in front of a crowd of reporters, lost his composure, openly blasting a player.

If that got out, it would badly damage his image; he might even lose his job.

But this time Johnson was lucky. The reporters around him were all hoping for He Xinghui to lose as well, and were on the same side as he was.

They were annoyed too, and some of them were even cursing Gordon Grielsco in their heads.

"Beautiful."

On one Clippers possession, He Xinghui released the ball a little late and Gordon sent his shot into the stands.

Johnson and the others cheered with such enthusiasm that anyone who did not know better might have thought they were Jazz fans.

Of course, He Xinghui had no idea that such a crowd of clowns was watching his every move. If he had, he would have used an item to drive a knife straight through their hearts.

Since he did not know, he simply played it as an ordinary game.

With two A-rank skills at his disposal, he could still produce a decent performance without using any items.

"Orvis Sanadine, your shooting form is really pretty," He Xinghui said.

"My name is Gordon Grielsco," Gordon replied, bewildered.

"I know, but I still like calling you Orvis, because you play like Orvis: soft."

Orvis was the most famous sanitary-pad brand in the United States at the time. Once He Xinghui said that, Gordon understood at once.

"Get lost."

Gordon wanted to fire back with something clever, but in the middle of that fierce physical battle, he could not think of anything in time.

On the next possession, He Xinghui’s shot was bothered again, and the ball missed.

He Xinghui was annoyed too, but he did not show it on his face.

He kept talking: "No wonder you’re a famous brand for leak protection. Your defense really is something."

At that, Gordon felt deeply uncomfortable, and even the satisfaction of a successful stop vanished.

On the next trip down, it was He Xinghui attacking again.

He was now a privileged player on the team. As long as he wanted to shoot, taking twenty attempts in a game was no problem at all.

This time, He Xinghui learned his lesson and varied his rhythm as he drove.

Gordon had speed and strength to spare, but his reactions seemed a little sluggish. After He Xinghui fooled him, he could not adjust quickly enough and lost his defensive position.

He Xinghui pulled up and hit the jumper.

"Well, well. Your defense is not even as good as Orvis’s."

No matter whether Gordon was playing well or badly, He Xinghui had to sting him with a comment.

Being saddled with the label of sanitary-pad man for no reason at all made Gordon burn with anger.

He also tried to answer back with a bucket of his own, but his driving ability was only mediocre, so all he could do was rise into a jumper over He Xinghui.

As for defending shots, He Xinghui really did not fear guards at all, thanks to his height and wingspan.

Gordon bricked it.

"What does it feel like to fail in front of more than ten thousand people?" He Xinghui asked.

After the first quarter, He Xinghui came out to rest, and Gordon suddenly let out a long breath.

Before this, he had never really thought trash talk had much power.

But after matching up with He Xinghui today, he realized that having someone buzzing in your ear nonstop was its own kind of torture.

The game went on, and the Clippers held the lead the whole way.

In pure strength, the Clippers were clearly better than the Jazz.

By the third quarter, the Jazz were down by twenty, and Jerry Sloan chose to give up, sending in the reserves and rookies for experience.

Only then did He Xinghui finally get his chance to face Deron Williams.

"Third overall pick and you still can’t crack the rotation. Aren’t you ashamed?"

The moment Deron came in, He Xinghui immediately switched onto him with Cassell.

Such heart-piercing opportunities did not come often. After all, in another month or two Deron would have his breakthrough, and by then it would not be nearly so easy to get under his skin.

Deron immediately supplied He Xinghui with a hundred points of rage.

Even without the provocation, he already disliked He Xinghui intensely.

After all, as rookies from the same class, the difference in their fortunes was far too great.

Enraged, Deron did not pass to a teammate. Instead, he tried to back He Xinghui down.

Unfortunately, Deron was still too raw, and his shot remained highly unstable.

Though he managed to back He Xinghui up, he was still affected to some extent, and his first attempt clanged off the rim.

"If you keep playing reckless like that, be careful they sit you down," He Xinghui said with a sly smile.

Originally, He Xinghui had wanted to toy with Deron a little longer, but since the Jazz had already surrendered, Dunleavy pulled the starters after just two possessions.

Thus ended the first meeting between He Xinghui and Deron Williams.

In the stands, some spectators had already begun leaving early, disappointment written all over their faces.

The reporters were just as disappointed.

"Fuck."

Johnson used a curse to vent his frustration.

"John, don’t rush it. Wait for the next game."

Another reporter patted Johnson on the shoulder, and the others smiled as well.

The Clippers’ next game was against the Suns, and the Suns were one of the league’s powerhouses.

If the thirty teams were divided into four tiers, then the Suns, Spurs, Mavericks, Pistons, and Heat belonged to the top tier.

The Clippers’ recent play might have been good enough for the second tier, but because of their long-standing image as perennial no-hopers, ordinary fans still saw them more like a third-tier team, the kind that had to fight desperately just to make the playoffs.

When the Clippers played the Suns, they all favored Phoenix to win.

"I hope Nash gives this guy a proper lesson and shows him what it really means to lift your teammates and win games."

Comforted, Johnson’s mood improved somewhat.

As long as he could hold out two more days, he could manage that much patience.