When Wang Yi heard Westbrook sigh, his heart sank a little too.
He had seen this kind of mood in James before, and in Rose as well.
It was just more pronounced in Westbrook.
Even in the year he retired, James had still been a starter, averaging around 20 points per game.
That scoring average had still ranked in the league's top thirty.
And in the year he retired, he had also averaged around 9.5 assists, which was still the level of an elite point guard.
So even in his final season, he had remained one of the league's biggest stars.
Most importantly, James had already won a championship—and more than one.
Even if he had retired due to injury, he wouldn't have had many regrets.
Rose might not have shone as brightly as James, and he had struggled on in pursuit of a championship, but at least last season he had still been a starter.
He had also turned in some dazzling performances in the Playoffs, even in the Finals, and had hit a game-winner.
So although both men had felt a little like heroes in their twilight years, nothing about their decline had tugged at the heart like Westbrook's did.
Westbrook had once been a force to be reckoned with in the league.
He had averaged a triple-double for two seasons, a feat no one before him had achieved and no one since had matched.
But as he'd gotten older, his explosive style of play had deteriorated badly. By this season, almost no team was willing to take him.
If the Kings had not been short on guards at the time, they would never have signed him.
Even now that the Kings had taken him on, he had only appeared in a single-digit number of games this season.