Uncle Yu had really turned playing the straight man into a stream-of-consciousness art.
He was playing the straight man everywhere he went.
Seeing that he'd never get away if he kept chatting with those two, Wang Yi immediately said goodbye to them, then greeted the familiar foreign celebrities.
There were plenty of foreign stars around, including Robert Downey Jr., Scarlett Johansson, Indian director Amir Khan, and Pavarotti, the Italian singer who'd become a sensation over the past couple of years.
Wang Yi waved to the ones he knew. When the others greeted him, he simply nodded.
Next, Wang Yi stepped onto the court. The moment he crossed the sideline, the system's prompt sounded in his mind:
[Host, please sign in]
Wang Yi wasn't surprised.
The system was bound to give him a sign-in opportunity in the finals.
"Sign in."
Compared with other players, who only managed around ten steals for every hundred attempts, this was a pretty high rate.
But just as everyone was left bewildered, a white figure suddenly darted across the court.
Pang Bo couldn't help smiling wryly to himself.
What was his big brother doing?
Jokic stood in the center circle on Serbia's half of the court.
Was he seeing things?
He leaned closer to Wang Yi and whispered something in his ear.
"You had virtually no defensive pressure, and you still tipped the ball straight into the opposing point guard's hands? What the hell!"
They knew Jokic's vertical leap was nowhere near Wang Yi's. He had almost no chance of reaching the ball.
So, on the surface, this card seemed incredibly powerful. As long as you got enough steals, you could eventually raise your success rate to 100 percent. That would be unbeatable.
But when it was so hard to improve his steal rate,