Everyone thought that with five seconds left, Wang Yi would suddenly run out to the perimeter to receive the ball.
After all, if there was any less time, he'd have even less room for error when running out to the perimeter.
That was how it usually went. On a game-winning possession, if the offense didn't want to leave the other team time to run a play, they'd let the clock wind down to the last five or six seconds before starting their attack.
But this time, everyone was wrong.
With just five seconds left, Wang Yi still showed no sign of moving toward the perimeter.
Danny, waiting outside, was starting to panic.
What was the boss doing?
There were only five seconds left. Why wasn't he coming out?
If the boss never came out, should he attack or pass?
Just as the thought flashed through his mind, with three seconds left, Wang Yi suddenly came straight up the middle toward the three-point line.
As Wang Yi moved, Morant, Gobert, and the two other bench players beside them all chased after him.
But after just two steps, one either suddenly tripped or felt a sharp pain in their ribs.
Dog was standing at the free-throw line like a guardian deity, blocking their way with both elbows out.
Bring two, and I'll hold off two;
Bring four, and I'll block a double-double!
Most importantly, his feet and hands seemed to be making countless little moves.
They could get around him, but somehow he'd always manage to touch them somewhere.
And wherever he touched, it hurt like hell.
So the four defenders went stumbling in all directions once again.
Wang Yi reached the three-point line.
There was only one second left.
Little Danny hurriedly passed the ball to Wang Yi, who was still