Wang Yi seemed to have known all along that the shot would miss. He jumped early and secured the rebound in midair.
The instant he landed, he took off toward the frontcourt.
On the Rockets' sideline, head coach Nash felt his heart tighten. He hurriedly called out to his players, "Stop him! Don't let him shoot a three, and don't let him cross half court!"
Little Kevin, Sengun, and Jalen Green formed a defensive wall at half court.
But this time, Wang Yi didn't even cross the half-court line. With four meters still between him and the line, he started his three-step motion.
Then, with two meters still to go, he launched a running shot.
The ball sailed high over the heads of the Rockets' Big Three.
Before it had even dropped through the net, Wang Yi spread his hands and shrugged at them.
The next moment, behind the Big Three—
Bam!
The ball slammed into the backboard with tremendous force.
Swish!
Then it ricocheted straight into the basket.
The backboard shook back and forth like a young person dancing at a club, rattling so hard it looked like its head might come off.
Just like that, the deficit was down to four.
Thirty seconds remained in the game.
Scoring four points in thirty seconds was far more possible than making up ten in forty-two.
Nash quickly called a timeout.
Cheryl Miller turned to Nicholas Zhao Si beside her and asked,
"Do you still think Wang's threes don't matter?"
Nicholas Zhao Si pursed his lips again.
He was a little surprised himself, but as a professional Yi-hater, he believed Wang Yi was wrong simply for being alive. There was no way he would say a single word of praise for him now.
He merely gave a cold snort and said,