When it came to finding a topic to talk about, Barkley was an absolute genius.
The next day, his comment about kissing Kenny Smith’s ass set the United States sports world on fire.
The root cause was simply that Yao Ming was too much of a hot topic.
In this era, every American was curious about that distant, mysterious Eastern country. And Yao Ming came from there, landing in the NBA as the unprecedented number one draft pick.
If Yao Ming were a towering 7’5" white man, all the fans would go wild for him, hoping he could tear up the NBA and break the dominance of Black players.
But he wasn’t.
So, many Americans were waiting to see him fail, just for the spectacle.
And Barkley’s comments catered perfectly to that sentiment.
The media’s frenzy and their "let’s-stir-up-trouble-for-the-hell-of-it" attitude became clear to Chen Yu the next day when he returned to his office after finishing his morning work and started flipping through the newspapers.
Nearly every newspaper’s sports section had a story about Yao Ming.
The New York Times said, "Yao Ming’s hands are as smooth as Barkley’s forehead; he can’t even hold on to the ball under the basket."
The Arizona Republic was even more blunt, expressing relief that the Phoenix Suns hadn’t used their number one pick on Yao Ming, but had traded for O’Neal instead. They claimed O’Neal was ten, even a hundred times better than Yao Ming. The paper stated that if the trade hadn’t gone through, it would have been a move by Brian that stank ten times worse than giving Gugliotta that massive contract.
Even the Los Angeles Times, a local Los Angeles paper, joined in on the mockery. It ridiculed Yao Ming’s clumsiness, saying he shouldn’t have been the number one pick and didn’t even deserve to be a first-rounder. It went so far as to blast the league, claiming Stern was only thinking about expanding the international market and that Jay Williams should have been this year’s top pick.
The runner-up pick was performing well. Just last night, in the Bulls’ game against the Brooklyn Nets, he exploded for 26 points, 14 rebounds, and 13 assists, securing his first career triple-double.
All of Chicago was ecstatic, proclaiming they had drafted the next Jordan and that the Bulls dynasty was on the verge of a revival.
Chen Yu frowned as he read, unable to stop himself from thinking about Kwame Brown.
Brown had also received excessive attention precisely because he went to the Wizards to play alongside Jordan.
The file sent back from the Wizards’ sports psychologist stated that Brown was overly withdrawn and showed signs of depression.
But that’s just how it was. When you’re chosen as the number one pick, you’re going to get this kind of attention. Everyone puts you under a microscope.
Just as he was thinking this, his phone rang.
Phil Jackson?
Chen Yu paused for a moment before answering. "What’s up, Phil?"
After a brief pleasantry, Jackson asked, "It’s like this, Chen. I don’t know if you’ve seen what Charles said. The situation is pretty bad right now. I’m a little worried about Yao, and I’m not sure whether I should start him or keep him coming off the bench."
Chen Yu silently rolled his eyes. ’Is it really appropriate to ask me this kind of question?’
’I’m the Phoenix Suns’ team doctor, for crying out loud.’
’Besides, what about your Lakers’ psychologist? What was his name again?’
Jackson was sharp and must have guessed what Chen Yu was thinking. He immediately said, "Chen, you’ve evaluated Yao and are more familiar with his situation, which is why I’m calling you. Most importantly, I don’t really trust Bob’s abilities."
Chen Yu thought, ’So you trust me instead? When it comes to psychotherapy, I’m just a hack. An amateur, okay?’
After a moment of thought, Chen Yu said, "Phil, at a time like this, you can’t have him on the bench. It might seem like you’re protecting him, but it would actually be hurting him. Of course, if you keep him as a starter and he plays poorly, that could cause even greater damage."
"So you need to think it through carefully before you make a decision."
If they had been talking face-to-face, Jackson would have definitely shot Chen Yu a massive eye-roll.
’That was a whole lot of nothing.’
"Chen, I can tell you care a lot about Yao. You even came all the way to Los Angeles to give him that training manual. That’s why I really want to ask you: if you were in my position, what would you choose?" Jackson, being a crafty one, kicked the ball right back.
Chen Yu cursed inwardly. ’I went all the way to Los Angeles to fine you guys. Yao Ming was just a side trip.’
’And here he is playing the friendship card on me. This old fox is too cunning.’
"If I were you," Chen Yu sighed, tapping his fingers on the desk. He thought seriously for a moment before saying, "I’d start him. And I’d have everyone feed him the ball, play for him, and let him pad his stats."
Stats aren’t everything for a player, but sometimes, they’re the most direct way to see things.
Most importantly, Chen Yu felt that what Yao Ming really needed right now was some confidence.
The media can be real bitches. As soon as his stats look good, they’ll start blowing smoke up his ass, and the narrative will flip instantly.
Normally, you could give Yao Ming time to slowly regain his confidence, but Barkley just had to run his mouth and say what he said. Now, some external force was needed.
"Good, that’s what I was thinking too," Jackson said immediately.
Chen Yu silently rolled his eyes again.
"Thanks, Chen." Jackson hung up.
As for whether he could actually pad his stats, that wasn’t even a question. Anyone who makes it to the NBA can put up good numbers if they’re given the opportunity.
But thinking about it was one thing; Jackson still had to figure out the specifics of how to execute the plan.
「The next day at practice.」
Rekton drove Yao Ming to the arena.
As soon as they arrived, they were swarmed by a horde of reporters.
Camera flashes went off nonstop, all aimed at Yao Ming inside the car.
The scene was worthy of the paparazzi.
Fortunately, security guards arrived and dispersed the reporters.
"Yao, are you okay? These reporters are insane," Rekton asked, turning his head.
The car’s interior was a bit cramped. Yao Ming, sitting awkwardly, managed a small smile for Rekton and shook his head.
"Karen, can you guys stop filming?" Rekton said.
Inside the car, the film crew hired by the league was still pointing a camera at Yao Ming.
Truly, aside from when he was using the bathroom or sleeping, every aspect of Yao Ming’s life was exposed to the camera, with no privacy to speak of.
The cameraman gave an embarrassed smile and turned off the camera.
Rekton noticed Yao Ming’s dejected expression in the rearview mirror and couldn’t help but sigh. They had been together for nearly half a month now. To make things easier and to give Yao Ming someone to practice his spoken English with, Rekton was even staying at Yao Ming’s house, spending every day with him.
In Rekton’s eyes, Yao Ming was humble and seemed introverted, but he was just slow to warm up. Once you got to know him, he was actually very easygoing. He would joke around using newly learned slang, excitedly tell Rekton all about China, and loved playing video games, just like Rekton himself.
Now, facing such criticism and ridicule, Rekton could feel that Yao Ming was taking it hard. He often spent a long time on the phone with his girlfriend.
But every morning, he would still wake up with a smile. Once, at the supermarket, an angry fan threw a coffee cup at them. It was Yao Ming who stopped Rekton from calling the police, saying dejectedly that it wasn’t the fan’s fault; his own poor performance had let the fans down.
Even in a situation like that, the guy would first look for fault in himself.
Sometimes, Rekton felt furious. There was a number one pick every year, but how many of them were like Jordan or Duncan? It had only been a few games, so why were they relentlessly targeting Yao Ming?
After parking the car, Yao Ming, acting as if nothing was wrong, grabbed his bag and headed to the locker room.
On the practice court, Rekton followed Yao Ming and stood on the sidelines, listening to Lambis explain tactics.
At this stage, Yao Ming’s main focus was still on familiarizing himself with the Lakers’ tactics.
This was also his biggest problem on the court right now: a lack of coordination with his teammates.
Yao Ming listened very attentively, but when it came to the scrimmage, problems still arose frequently.
Moreover, Rekton could sense that some of the Lakers were isolating Yao Ming.
There was only one starting spot for his position, so you can imagine how intense the competition on the team was.
If you’re not playing well but still occupy a starting spot, other players are bound to think, ’If I were the starter, I’d definitely play better than you.’
Rekton believed this antagonistic atmosphere was a major reason for the problems with coordination.
When the scrimmage ended, Rekton immediately walked over with a drink.
"Yao, you played great," Rekton said encouragingly.
Yao Ming gave a bitter smile and said nothing.
Just then, Kobe suddenly walked straight over.
Rekton instantly felt the attention of every player on the court follow Kobe and focus on them.
Even Yao Ming tensed up. In the half-month he’d been with the Lakers, he had probably exchanged fewer than a hundred sentences with Kobe, the majority of which were surely "Good morning," "Good afternoon," and "Good evening."
Kobe’s face was taut, his expression serious. He had Yao Ming bend down, then draped an arm over his shoulder and said, "Yao, this isn’t working."
He motioned for Rekton to translate, then poked Yao Ming in the chest, his gaze fierce. "You’re too humble. You need to understand something. You’re the number one pick. The team chose you to build around you as a core player. You’re meant to be a star. Do you understand what a star is?"
Yao Ming was a little dazed, completely unsure of what Kobe was about to say.
’Is he lecturing me?’
Kobe pointed to his teammates in the distance. "A star is someone everyone else plays for, not someone who plays for them. Stop worrying about those damn tactics. Nobody can remember them anyway."
’This triangle offense bullshit is just a star player’s offense when you get down to it.’
’Before, they passed it to O’Neal. Now they pass it to me. That’s all.’
"When you get on the court, you don’t need to think so much. You only need to think about one thing." Kobe held up a single finger, his expression fierce. "When the ball is in your hands, just put the damn thing in the basket. Don’t worry about anything else."
’Defense, passing, playing with teammates... when you’re averaging 20, 30 points a game, nobody cares about that stuff.’
’Look at O’Neal. Doesn’t take practice seriously, just strolls around under the basket during games. Help defense? Come out and set a screen? You think you’re that important? I’m the Big Shark. Who the hell are you to ask me to set a screen for you?’
Although Kobe couldn’t stand O’Neal’s attitude, he had to admit that when it came to scoring on offense, truly no one could stop O’Neal.
"So, don’t worry about what the media says. They’re just a bunch of bitches. When you’re scoring 30 points, they’ll be on their knees kissing your shoes."
Rekton’s eye twitched. ’Do I have to translate that word for word?’
Still, Kobe’s words actually got Rekton’s blood pumping. He also sometimes felt that Yao Ming was too humble, always worrying about others’ feelings while neglecting his own.
"Score. Put the ball in the basket. That’s enough. You’re the number one pick, understand? And Barkley... you make that asshole shut his mouth and kiss Smith’s ass!" Kobe said fiercely, patting Yao Ming on the chest.
’O’Neal’s been traded. I got my wish.’
But Kobe knew very well that with O’Neal gone, he had no retreat. He didn’t even have anyone to pass the blame to anymore. He had to lead the Lakers and prove himself.
Therefore, Yao Ming had to step up and become his best partner. That was why he had come over to say all this.
As for Barkley, Kobe had disliked him ever since Barkley accused him of riding O’Neal’s coattails.
Yao Ming stared blankly at Kobe, a storm of emotions stirring in his heart.
’A star?’

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