The dorm room was silent.
"It's fine. It's only the first game." Liu Heng spoke softly. "And Lin Li had Bayer pinned down the whole time. As long as he makes fewer mistakes next game, it'll be fine."
As if encouraging himself, Xiao Jian also said quietly, "Yeah, isn't this like Wang Chao's match against Wu Li a few days ago? In the end, Wu Li still overwhelmed Wang Chao with his physicality... Uncle Bai is old, after all."
Quite a few people looked toward Wang Chao.
After watching this afternoon's match, everyone had acknowledged Wang Chao's strength. Naturally, they also felt that his judgment was the best and hoped he would offer his opinion.
But Wang Chao shook his head. "I can't tell."
There were some things he did not dare say, because he, too, was clinging to a certain degree of wishful thinking.
But in his previous life, if he had been there in person and seen how this match was unfolding, he would have thought Bayer had at least a sixty percent chance of winning.
Lin Li's play was too simple.
That was wrong.
Even with the world's best shot quality, you still had to scheme and deceive.
That was the greatest difference between big-ball sports and small-ball sports.
Cristiano Ronaldo could occasionally dribble past every opponent by himself, charge straight in alone, and score with a single shot. The ceiling of individual skill could be raised incredibly high.
But a table tennis player could never crush an opponent through shot quality alone.
What could break down an opponent was always a combination of punches, involving speed, placement, trajectory, calculation, and many other factors.
"Isn't Qin Huachang China's greatest coach? Why was Lin Li playing like this today?"
Wang Chao did not believe this was Lin Li's