Although Yao Ming’s name had been all over the papers since the draft, he came from China, from the Chinese Jia A League—a league many people had never even heard of. He hadn’t played in the Summer League, though he had participated in the World Championship. However, that tournament had received surprisingly little attention. Most Americans only knew that the Dream Team had finished an unprecedented sixth; they certainly hadn’t been following the China Team’s performance.
At the end of October, Yao Ming had just arrived in Los Angeles to join the Lakers, having missed training camp and the entire preseason.
In everyone’s mind, he was a bust of a first-round pick who had scored zero points in his debut, played abysmally, and completely failed to live up to the hype.
He wasn’t showing up on any highlight reels, and no team was going to waste time scouting him.
So, very few players knew what his game was like.
All they knew, at most, was that he was tall.
So on the next offensive possession, when Yao Ming caught the ball again, Ratcliffe didn’t hesitate to body up on him, pressing hard to prevent Yao Ming from backing him down.
He assumed Yao Ming was just a big body who relied on his height to play.
In the midst of the physical battle, Yao Ming, with his back to the basket, suddenly eased up. With a fluidity that defied his size, he spun around and, with a gentle flick of his right wrist, laid the ball precisely into the hoop.
His touch was surprisingly soft.
Ratcliffe frowned slightly. ’Fundamentals. Everyone’s got ’em.’
But soon, Yao Ming came at him again.
Another standoff in the low post.
With Yao Ming’s size, impressive strength, and solid base, it was easy for him to establish position.
And passing him the ball wasn’t hard either—he was just too tall.
He pounded the dribble and started to back him down.
Ratcliffe’s heart sank. ’Here we go again!’ He clenched his jaw and held his ground.
But unexpectedly, after a few bumps, Yao Ming eased off, creating space for a skilled turnaround jumper.
Ratcliffe, having committed too much force, was too off-balance to contest the shot. Besides, how many people can block a turnaround jumper from a guy who’s seven-foot-five?
The ball swished cleanly through the net. Another bucket!
He was 3-for-3!
Inside the TNT Studio, Barkley was already scratching his head.
"Fuck, what the hell is Ratcliffe doing? Is he just letting him score?" Barkley panicked.
He’s already got 6 points in four minutes. At this rate, forget 20 points, he might even drop 30!
A glint of excitement flashed in Smith’s eyes as he offered some mock comfort to Barkley. "Charles, don’t panic yet. He probably just got a hot hand. Don’t worry, Ratcliffe will put him in his place soon enough."
’What was the point in kicking a bust while he was down? It would be far more dramatic to see Yao Ming get his 20 points and force Barkley to make good on his promise.’
"I’m not panicking!" Barkley snapped, slapping the desk.
Ernie Johnson, sitting beside them, didn’t join their bickering. Instead, he remarked with some surprise, "To be honest, I’m just now realizing how skilled Yao is."
What are skills, anyway? The ability to leverage your own advantages—that’s true skill.
Ratcliffe might be lacking in height and weight, but Yao Ming’s ability to create opportunities by leveraging his height advantage and personal agility was, in itself, proof of excellent technique.
Especially that turnaround jumper after posting up—it was exceptionally smooth.
TWEET.
The whistle blew.
Ratcliffe raised his hand in resignation. He’d fouled him on the shot.
Recalling Yao Ming’s jab step into a half-spin baby hook just now, Ratcliffe was completely thrown off. ’Am I seeing things? How can a guy that tall be so agile?’
Stepping to the free-throw line, Yao Ming calmly sank both shots.
points!
The first quarter was barely halfway over, and Yao Ming had already surpassed his highest point total from any of his previous games.
On the sidelines, Jackson, in a rare loss of composure, grabbed Lambis by the arm. "Kurt, did you see that? He’s fantastic."
Lambis, his arm being shaken violently, thought, ’I saw it, I saw it.’ He hadn’t expected it either. In that instant, it was as if Yao Ming had suddenly figured out how to play, and his performance was stellar.
"This is what I’ve been waiting for!" Jackson exclaimed.
He has height, agility, and outstanding low-post offensive skills. As long as he keeps up with his training and gets stronger, Yao Ming can absolutely develop into one of the league’s top centers.
Following a mid-range jumper from Kobe, the Hawks were forced to call a timeout.
"Yao, great job! That’s how you do it," Kobe said, walking over immediately and slapping Yao Ming excitedly on the back.
Horry and a few others exchanged glances. While this version of Yao Ming still had plenty of issues, for this half-quarter, at least on offense, he was finally looking like a number one pick.
The key was, they couldn’t figure out what on earth Kobe had said to him. What kind of magic had he worked to make Yao Ming suddenly so effective?
From the stands, a scattered applause began to break out.
Many of the Chinese fans in particular were on their feet, shouting in excitement.
Even his teammates on the bench were on their feet, applauding.
Olajuwon was the first to come up and give Yao Ming a hug. "Yao, beautifully done."
This sudden praise left Yao Ming a bit stunned, but more than that, he was thrilled. ’Finally, someone approves of me!’
「In front of the TV.」
Chen Yu couldn’t resist grabbing his beer can and clinking it soundly against Lexi’s. "See? I told you he had it in him."
Sometimes, your mindset—or rather, your self-awareness—is what’s most important. In just a single moment, it’s like an epiphany. All the frustration and pent-up anger just vanishes.
On the TV, Barkley was still squawking that this was just a flash in the pan for Yao Ming and that he’d soon revert to form. An idea suddenly sparked in Chen Yu’s mind.
’This is a once-in-a-lifetime moment. Maybe I should go witness it in person.’
’TNT, and NBC before them, and plenty of other networks, have been inviting me to come on their shows for a while now.’
After the timeout, Ratcliffe still had no answer for Yao Ming.
The height difference was just too great. Moreover, Yao Ming was playing smart. He didn’t get tangled up with Ratcliffe under the basket, instead using his technique to create his own shots.
Of course, this was only on offense.
In terms of teamwork, the Lakers were still a mess. It was all just one-on-one basketball.
As for defense, Yao Ming wasn’t under much pressure either.
Ratcliffe was a pure blue-collar player without much of an offensive game; he wasn’t the Hawks’ primary scorer.
Raheem was an excellent offensive player, but he operated more on the perimeter. And besides, he was a power forward. ’What’s that got to do with me?’
Once he stopped worrying about fitting in with his teammates or focusing on defense, Yao Ming suddenly found that this was pretty great. No pressure. Just score.
When he was subbed out after nine minutes of play, Yao Ming’s point total had already reached 10.
Jackson put him back in early in the second quarter.
Ten points wasn’t nearly enough. Jackson was also pretty ticked off about Barkley’s big mouth.
’Saying Yao Ming would never score 20 points in his life? Wasn’t that an indirect insult to my own judgment as a coach?’
Backing his man down, Yao Ming didn’t give an inch in the battle of strength.
Ratcliffe was tough, but he was too light—just over a hundred kilos, giving up a whole 30 kilograms to Yao Ming.
That was a gap that pure strength couldn’t overcome.
With a thunderous SLAM, Yao Ming powered through Ratcliffe and threw the ball down with one hand.
"Ratcliffe is getting absolutely destroyed!" Ernie Johnson exclaimed.
Smith, next to him, couldn’t care less about that. He slammed the desk and yelled, "That’s 14 points! Only six more to go!"
Barkley looked like he was attending his own funeral. His face was ashen.
He caught the ball, pushed Ratcliffe out of the way, and went up strong for a shot, drawing the foul.
He made one of two from the line.
But it wasn’t over.
Kobe drove to the basket and suddenly dished the ball to Yao Ming.
Yao Ming took the pass in stride and rose up for a two-handed slam.
The rim shuddered. The whistle blew at the same time.
And-one!
Yao Ming couldn’t hold it in any longer. He pumped his fist and let out a roar to the heavens. "GET SOME!"
As Kobe rushed over to celebrate with him, a thought subconsciously flashed through his mind.
’Dim sum?’
After he sank the free throw, Yao Ming’s point total hit 18.
Crucially, his shooting percentage was incredibly high.
The applause in the stands grew louder, and some American fans even started chanting Yao Ming’s name.
Back in the TNT studio, Barkley buried his face in his hands, wishing he could slap himself.
’I got careless,’ he thought. ’I shouldn’t have run my mouth like that, making such a ridiculous guarantee.’
’What am I going to do? Am I really going to have to kiss Smith’s ass?’
Barkley peeked through his fingers at Smith, who had jumped to his feet and was excitedly shouting at the camera. ’Well, at least he was a point guard,’ Barkley thought. ’His ass can’t be that big.’
’Fuck, what the hell am I even thinking?!’
Barkley cursed himself. He was a complete mess.
With a catch-and-shoot mid-range jumper, Yao Ming’s first-half point total was set at 20.
The camera cut back to the studio.
Smith looked into the camera with a straight face. "Folks, I believe it’s time we discuss the... kissing arrangements?"
As he spoke, he kept trying to pull up Barkley, who had hidden his head under the anchor desk.
Seeing there was no escape, Barkley—who had already cursed the gloating Smith a hundred times over in his head—finally sat up straight.
"Alright, alright."
Barkley let out a long sigh, calmly adjusted his tie, gave a huge eye-roll, and threw his hands up in surrender. "I lost. I’ll do the kissing. Happy now?"
Watching on TV, Chen Yu was slightly impressed.
You had to hand it to him, Barkley was a man of his word.
’But in the end, Yao Ming really played a hell of a game.’
’Too bad he’s not on the Phoenix Suns.’
Ultimately, Yao Ming finished the game with a stat line of 31 points, 6 rebounds, and 1 assist.
But that hardly mattered anymore. Fans all across the United States were more concerned with how Barkley was going to make good on his promise.
Barkley, using the excuse that he wasn’t prepared, postponed the fulfillment of his promise to TNT’s "NBA on TNT Thursday" show.
No matter. The 14th was just a day away.
All that day, during commercial breaks and even on other shows, TNT’s hosts were reminding viewers that Barkley was about to fulfill his promise: to kiss his partner’s ass.
「Los Angeles, TNT Television Headquarters.」
"No! I’d rather kiss you!" Barkley yelled backstage, his face a mask of misery.
It wasn’t that Smith was unwilling, but a director had raised concerns about whether broadcasting something like that would be a bad influence on kids.
So Smith proposed an alternative: have Barkley kiss a donkey’s ass instead.
Smith had even gone so far as to rent a donkey for the occasion.
That’s when Barkley lost it and shouted his previous line.
"Charles, this is your best option," Smith urged. To be honest, he wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of baring his own ass on national television either.
Just then, Chen Yu, who had been sitting off to the side waiting for the show to begin, suddenly spoke up. "Charles, how about I give you guys an idea?"
"Chen, what are you getting at?" Barkley asked, an involuntary shiver running down his spine.
’They had never been able to get Chen Yu on the show, and now he had suddenly contacted them, asking to be a part of this specific broadcast. He’d known something was up.’
Chen Yu couldn’t help but laugh. "You could do it like a shadow puppet show. Get a large sheet of paper to use as a screen, and you kiss him behind it. We’ll light it from the back so the audience sees the silhouette. That way, you fulfill your promise, Kenny doesn’t have to expose himself, and you avoid broadcasting anything indecent. It’s perfect, isn’t it?"
Everyone’s eyes lit up at the suggestion.
Only Barkley’s face turned a frightening shade of green. Seeing everyone looking at him in agreement, he asked pitifully, "Can I... can I cheat the angle?"
’He suddenly realized that if they did it this way, he could fake the kiss.’
But Chen Yu shot that idea down with a single sentence. "Charles, since you’ve already agreed to do it, why fake it? What if someone exposes you? Wouldn’t that ruin your reputation? At worst, we’ll just have Kenny keep his pants on while you do it."
Barkley scratched his head furiously with both hands, on the verge of a mental breakdown. ’I’m still kissing his ass! How is that *not* going to affect my reputation?!’
’And what was that last part about? Were you guys actually planning on making him take his pants off for me?!’

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