Both coaches secretly shot Wang Yi a look.
Wang Yi nodded too, then said to Wang Jianhua:
"I guarantee the championship will belong to China!"
He said it with utmost seriousness.
Wang Jianhua knew Wang Yi well and knew that he always kept his word.
His anger eased a little, but he still warned Wang Yi:
"Anyway, don't go messing around again when you get back on the court. Or I won't let you off!"
Wang Yi nodded. "Don't worry."
When they returned to the court, Wang Yi really did get serious.
He immediately drove past his defender and charged into the paint.
Then the commentator suddenly changed tack:
The lead was back down to seven points.
He even punched a hole in the advertising board.
"He'd missed all three of his three-point attempts earlier in this game. But now, with the lead stretched to eleven, he finally made a three!"
He failed to steal the ball. Instead, after Jokic got possession, no one guarded him, and he easily dunked it.
Under the dazzling lights overhead, the ball finally dropped into the basket, splashing up a white spray.
"His offensive and defensive efficiency over those two minutes was absolutely elite—almost unmatched."
He didn't say anything to encourage him. He knew Wang Yi didn't need encouragement; Wang Yi would push himself.
"Everyone can see all of that. But there's one more thing I want to point out about everything Zhang Yu did in those final two minutes."
"That little brat! That little brat! He's going to be the death of me!"
"We've seen China Team's small forward put on a superb display, hitting three three-pointers in a row and cutting the lead from eleven points to just four in two short minutes."
Wang Yi couldn't get to the basket, so he