At 8 p.m., prime time, the two teams' game began.
This game was being broadcast nationwide for the Kings.
Originally, the Kings had been slated for one of the fewest nationwide broadcasts in the league this year.
This game hadn't been scheduled as one of their nationally televised games; it had been slated as a Lakers broadcast.
But with Wang Yi's return, the broadcast had been switched at the last minute to the Kings.
The Kings' lineup.
Point guard: Rose of Chicago, Derrick Rose.
That's right. Now forty years old, he was still chasing his dream.
As the years went by, and after suffering several injuries over the past two years, his performance had steadily declined. His dream seemed farther and farther away.
He had spent most of his career wandering from one team to another. And as his performance kept getting worse, the teams willing to sign him were all ones with little hope of contending for a championship.
So his dream seemed farther away with every passing year.
But he had grown up in the dark Inglewood neighborhood, where crime and drugs ran rampant. Deep down, he had always been a fierce fighter.
As long as there was life, there would be fighting.
That was his motto.
The Kings were short-handed this year and had almost no stars, yet they had managed to reach ninth place in the Western Conference. Half the credit went to the fighting spirit Wang Yi had left behind when he played for the Kings.
Danny, Tures, and the others had inherited that fighting spirit in full.
The other half was thanks to Derrick Rose's indomitable spirit.
His unyielding determination fit perfectly with the fighting spirit Wang Yi had left behind.
And now the two of them were on the same team again.
It