At that moment, almost no one was watching the game. Everyone's attention was on James.
Soon, a message about James appeared on the big screen: LeBron James was not expected to return for the rest of the game.
When everyone saw the message, their hearts sank even further.
Meanwhile, in the locker room.
Wang Yi watched as the team doctor gave James an initial examination.
He hurriedly asked, "How is he, Doctor?"
The team doctor looked grim. "Our initial assessment is a torn ACL in his left knee. We'll need further tests to determine the extent of the injury."
James's pain had eased a little. Hearing the doctor's words, he gave another bitter smile and shook his head.
When he heard the "pop" from inside his knee, he'd known it was over.
At that moment, James's personal physician said:
"He needs to be taken to a specialist hospital for emergency treatment as soon as possible. If we miss the optimal window for treatment, his recovery will be even more difficult."
As he spoke, a stretcher was wheeled in.
This time, James finally lay down on it.
The security guards outside had already driven the cameramen away.
Before James was wheeled out, he turned to look at Wang Yi.
His face was beaded with sweat, his expression unbearably complicated.
There was frustration and reluctance.
He'd been just one ring away from tying Jordan's record.
Now he might never get the chance.
His reluctance also came from the thought of leaving the court where he'd competed for more than twenty years.
He'd entered the NBA at eighteen and played until he was forty-one;
he'd gone from a handsome young prodigy, blessed by the heavens, to a middle-aged man—a weary old king.
He'd thought he was already tired of it all.
Tired of