In the Hornets' locker room, Jordan's expression was stern. "Get up! Stand tall! Even if they beat you to death, you are not going to fall down on me. Do you fucking understand?"
Wemby hurriedly replied:
"I understand."
"Louder!"
Jordan roared.
"I understand!"
Wemby's voice instantly rose an octave.
At the same time, Jordan turned to look at the players, all of whom wore solemn expressions.
"We can only win tonight. We cannot lose. Understood?"
"Understood!"
The dozen or so players answered in unison.
Jordan had always been such a fiercely competitive man.
When he played one-on-one with his son, he'd been so determined to win that his son ended up needing more than thirty stitches.
He was the kind of man who insisted on winning even at something as silly as a drinking contest.
Once, when a coach came over to his house, he invited him to play golf.
After losing to the coach, he wouldn't let him leave, making him play all the way into the evening.
The next day, he dragged the coach out to play again.
He just had to win at least one game against him.
In the end, the coach had no choice but to secretly go easy on him and let Jordan win. Only then did Jordan let him leave.
With a man this competitive, how could he stand seeing his players lose heart after just a few blocks from the other team?
After Jordan's scolding, Wemby seemed to recover a little.
He showed some fight at the start of the second half, but it wasn't long before he ran into his nemesis again.
Wang Yi was back, blocking him three times in a row.
The blocks left Wemby so dizzy and disoriented he could barely think straight.
By then, Wemby had