Wang Yi was exhausted.
This was definitely the most exhausting game of his life.
He had been tired before, and had played until he could barely catch his breath.
But no matter how tired he'd been in the past, at least his body had been in shape.
He'd had the physique of a standard NBA player.
But now he hadn't trained in more than two years.
He'd only occasionally played pickup games.
And now, all of a sudden, he was playing in a game at NBA intensity.
What's more, the other team had clearly ramped up its defensive pressure in the last few minutes.
Even though he'd played only twenty minutes so far in this game.
That was still far beyond what his body could handle.
As he gasped for breath, the little sycophant Mitchell had already brought a bottle of water to Wang Yi's lips.
Wang Yi tried to reach for it, but he seemed to have no strength left.
Mitchell quickly held Wang Yi's hand down.
"Boss, don't move. Just open your mouth."
Then he brought the bottle to Wang Yi's mouth.
He watched Wang Yi gulp down two big mouthfuls, then wiped the sweat off him with a towel.
He also called to the team doctor beside them, "Do we have a massage therapist who can help him relax and relieve his fatigue? And some ice, or anything? What are you waiting for?"
But as soon as Mitchell called out, the head coach also hurriedly summoned the team doctor and physical therapist nearby.
A short twenty-second timeout wasn't nearly enough time to prepare any of this, but looking at Wang Yi's condition.
Physical therapy and ice were clearly the best ways to help his muscles recover from the fatigue.
Across the court, Rockets head coach Silas saw