"We've stolen the ball so many times, Serbia's completely rattled—and so is Jokic!"
"This is only happening on the international stage. If this were a pickup game, the other team probably wouldn't even want to play with you anymore. They'd just take the ball and go home. Your steals are downright unfair."
Wang Jianhua didn't praise Wang Yi, but he didn't scold him either.
For Wang Yi, though, not being scolded by Wang Jianhua already counted as praise.
Before this, Wang Jianhua had scolded him so many times for going for reckless steals.
Now, it was Wang Yi's steals that had put the team in such a favorable position.
If Wang Jianhua praised Wang Yi's steals now, wouldn't that be like admitting he'd been wrong all along?
Chinese fathers shared a common flaw: they cared too much about saving face. Especially in front of their sons, they would never admit they were wrong, even when they were.
Coach Shi spoke up to ease the awkwardness, addressing the players:
"We're leading by 11 now, but we can't let our guard down. Basketball history is full of examples of teams blowing big leads in the closing minutes."
Let alone when they were down 11 with 1 minute and 56 seconds left.
I knew drawing up a play now would be pointless. The players wouldn't be able to take it in anyway.
Against this kind of zone defense, Wang Yi could get under the basket just by using his speed—and Cui Lun had indeed done just that.
Normally, the defenders wouldn't have time to react to that kind of play.
The ball bounced straight back beneath the basket.
It was as if Jokic were a wall. Jovic slammed the ball against him, and it ricocheted toward the basket.
Then he darted past Jovic