Schroder committed an offensive foul, and James's team kept possession.
James deliberately tried to set Wang Yi up.
When players had a conflict, settling it on the practice court was the best way.
Wang Yi kept weaving between the players, running around screens.
Schroder had just been stopped by Wang Yi twice in a row, and his anger was only growing.
Now he kept chasing Wang Yi, shouting as he went:
"You'll never score on me!"
Wang Yi ran around three screens in a row, putting six feet between himself and Schroder.
He got beyond the three-point line on the right wing.
James's pass came at just the right time.
Wang Yi caught the ball and spun around quickly.
Swish!
Three-pointer!
Schroder muttered, "Fuck!"
When he got back on offense, Schroder went at it again.
The others spread out, giving Schroder and Wang Yi a chance to go one-on-one.
This time, Schroder added a lot more moves.
He strung together several crossovers, then threw in a shoulder fake.
At one point, he quickly pulled the ball to the right and raised his left hand, looking ready to gather it.
It seemed like he was about to stop and shoot.
Wang Yi immediately stepped forward to defend.
But Schroder didn't gather the ball.
Instead, he used a Buddha Move, dipped his head, and darted past Wang Yi.
He was short and quick.
With that Buddha Move on top of it, even some of the league's top defenders would have been faked out.
But Wang Yi's excellent lateral quickness came through again.
As Schroder darted past him, Wang Yi turned sideways and slid two big steps.
He stayed right on Schroder.
Schroder couldn't get all the way past him, so he could only lunge forward.
The lunge put a step of space between their upper bodies.
Off balance, he flipped up a one-handed layup.
But Wang Yi's 20 percent boost to his lateral speed was no joke.
He turned sideways again and slid quickly.
He jumped.
His right arm swung in a wide arc.
SMACK—
He swatted the ball out of bounds with a volleyball spike.
Everyone fell silent.
The only sound echoing through the gym was the basketball bouncing across the floor.
Thump—thump—thump-thump-thump-thump-thump...
All his teammates stared at Wang Yi in disbelief.
They weren't shocked by Wang Yi's volleyball-style block.
They were shocked by his freakish lateral speed.
He'd managed to keep up with Schroder's straight-line drive while sliding sideways.
Even when Schroder leaned in to flip up the layup, Wang Yi had somehow stayed with him using nothing but lateral movement.
It was downright ridiculous.
"Wang, how'd you do that?"
"Wang, are you a monster?"
"Oh my God, I've been playing with a freaking monster this whole time."
The head coach was just as surprised.
He'd been a head coach for years, from the Pacers back in the Eastern Conference to the Los Angeles Lakers in the West.
He'd seen all kinds of freaks.
But he'd never seen anyone like Wang Yi.
Those slides were way too fast.
James, meanwhile, looked thoughtful.
Wang Yi had spent all morning practicing his slides. He must have done over a thousand reps.
Could that be his specialty?
If so, it was a truly extraordinary gift.
After all, he'd been in the league for nineteen years and had never seen anyone with lateral speed as freakish as Wang Yi's.
Wang Yi looked down at Schroder, who was sprawled on the floor.
He gave a small shake of his head, looking almost disappointed.
As if to say: That's it?
On the surface, he seemed to have the humility and kindness people associated with East Asians.
He'd always been friendly toward his teammates, too.
But that didn't mean he never got angry.
He wasn't about to let someone who kept provoking him walk all over him.
From Wang Yi's gaze, Schroder could almost make out contempt.
That only made him angrier.
FUCK!
Some ten-day-contract nobody actually dared look down on him?
Just you wait!
Schroder got the ball again and took Wang Yi on one-on-one.
Once again, Wang Yi used his incredible lateral speed to build an impenetrable wall in front of him.
No matter how fast Schroder was, he couldn't get through.
He gritted his teeth in frustration.
Watching Wang Yi defend, head coach Vogel's eyes lit up.
Wang Yi's defense really had changed.
His lateral speed was much faster than it had been in last night's game.
Even a small guard like Schroder, whose game depended on speed, couldn't get past him.
When it was James's team's turn to attack, Schroder slapped the floor hard with both hands.
He was showing how determined he was.
If he couldn't get past Wang Yi, then he'd shut down that kid from the East.
But hopes were always bright, while reality could be brutally harsh.
Schroder tried to stay with Wang Yi, but Wang Yi kept moving, weaving around screens until he found an opening to shoot.
Schroder had never been known for his defense.
He chased Wang Yi until he was gasping for air, but couldn't even touch him.
Meanwhile, Wang Yi kept raining in three-pointers.
Schroder kept muttering words that started with F.
Of course, he wasn't cursing Wang Yi—not openly, anyway.
He was just venting his frustration.
He couldn't score, and he couldn't stop Wang Yi.
The outcome seemed all but certain.
But he couldn't accept it.
He couldn't accept losing to this kid from the East.
He had to make one last stand.
So when James's team was on offense, he said in Wang Yi's ear:
"If you've got guts, stop running around screens. Come at me straight up, one-on-one!"
Wang Yi gave a helpless shake of his head.
He hadn't wanted to humiliate the kid.
But if you were asking for it, you couldn't blame him.
With that, Wang Yi stopped running around screens.
He stood beyond the three-point line and put out a hand for the ball.
Schroder pressed tightly against Wang Yi's back.
He'd watched Wang Yi in the last two games and knew he had almost no ability to drive with the ball.
So as long as he kept Wang Yi pinned in place and made him uncomfortable, he didn't believe Wang Yi could keep hitting all those threes.
James saw Wang Yi asking for the ball, so naturally he passed it to him.
Wang Yi stood sideways, caught the ball, and slowly turned to face Schroder.
A mysterious little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
The next moment, he went straight up for a pull-up jumper.
Swish!
Nothing but net!
Schroder heard the ball go in behind him, and his heart sank.
A few teammates nearby kept cheering for Wang Yi.
"Beautiful!"
"Great shot!"
"Wang, you've got it!"
All those voices felt like a mountain pressing down on Schroder.
His movements were already starting to look sluggish.
The next possession came around.
Wang Yi got the ball again and faced Schroder.
Schroder still clung to one last shred of hope.
He waved both hands constantly, trying to stop Wang Yi from shooting.
This time, Wang Yi didn't even look at him.
Pull-up!
Swish!
Three-pointer!
Schroder was only six-foot-one, while Wang Yi was six-foot-four.
Five centimeters taller.
So as long as he was careful not to let Schroder strip the ball, all he had to do was pull up, pull up, and pull up again.
His three-point percentage in practice was much higher than it was in games.
He could shoot Schroder to death with pull-ups alone.
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