Locke made a mistake, and his expression turned a little dejected.
The Raptors fans watching the game on their screens grew a little anxious.
"We'd cut it to two, and now you turn it over!"
"Come on, man, don't do this!"
"Are you trying to hold Brother Yi back?"
But on the court, Wang Yi didn't blame Locke for the turnover.
He came over and patted Locke on the shoulder. "Locke, it's not your fault. I reacted too slowly when you came to meet the pass. I should've come over as soon as I saw them hounding you in the backcourt."
Locke hurriedly shook his head. "Boss, I..."
Wang Yi pressed a hand to his shoulder, signaling that he didn't need to say more. "If they start hounding you in the backcourt again, I'll come over to meet the pass."
Locke swallowed the words he'd been about to say and nodded firmly. "Boss, I'll work hard on my ball-handling when we get back."
Earlier, Locke's father had hired him a personal trainer to teach him offensive skills.
But after looking at the first ten games and this first half, Locke had realized something: the team didn't actually need him to score when he was on the court.
When the team ran the Sky Net Formation, nearly all the offense could be left to the boss alone.
And in this formation, as the point guard, his only job was to bring the ball safely across half court and hand it over to the boss.
So what he needed to work on now was the fundamentals of ball-handling.
That was Wang Yi's way of managing people.
Some team leaders would yell at players when they made mistakes, even cursing them out.
Wang Yi tended to take a gentler approach instead.
He encouraged