Even before the game was over, all the Bucks fans had already started mocking the Kings and Wang Yi.
Some fans back home also expressed their disappointment in Wang Yi and the Kings.
After the game, when it was time for the press conference, Wang Yi couldn't even be bothered to go.
He could imagine how the reporters would train their cameras and microphones on him, and how their sharp questions would be aimed at him.
What kind of press conference was that?
It was clearly a public execution.
But he was the Kings' leader, and the team's best player that night. If he didn't go, who would?
Wang Yi could only sigh helplessly.
After repeated urging from the Kings' PR staff, he finally managed to drag himself out of the locker room.
The other Kings players watched Wang Yi's retreating figure, their eyes as if they were mourning him.
Sensing their looks, Wang Yi turned his head and glanced at his teammates.
"I'm not dead yet."
Seeing his reaction, his teammates all burst out laughing.
Wang Yi nodded at them. "That's more like it. Smile a little. After all, this was only the first blowout loss. We've still got two more."
At his words, their smiles froze on their faces.
Although their leader had reassured them, and they knew he'd done it on purpose, they still felt deeply annoyed when they thought about the way people would mock them after the loss.
Two minutes later, Wang Yi strode into the media room and sat down, leaning back in his chair.
He swept his gaze over the hundred-plus reporters in attendance and spread his hands.
"Come on, open fire."
The reporters were all taken aback.
They clearly hadn't expected Wang Yi to be so candid.
They'd lost by 38 points,