Wang Yi made time during a break in practice to head over.
From a distance, he spotted Akur standing awkwardly backstage in a slightly rumpled suit, clutching a crumpled piece of paper covered in tiny, densely packed writing.
"No need to be so nervous."
Wang Yi walked over and patted him on the shoulder.
Akur whipped around, a hint of panic in his eyes.
"I'm afraid I won't say the right thing... What if the kids think I'm a fraud, or think I'm lecturing them..."
"You're not lecturing them. You're making amends." Wang Yi's voice was calm.
"Tell them how you were tempted back then, what you lost after betting on games, and how much you regret it now. That'll be more effective than any fancy words."
When it was Akur's turn to take the stage, the noise in the gym gradually died down.
He stood before the microphone, still upright, but without the swagger he'd once shown on the court.
At first, his voice trembled, and he gripped the note in his hand even tighter.
But when he said, "I thought betting on games would make me money quickly and give my family a better life. I never imagined that one bet would cost me the right to play basketball, and leave my parents unable to hold their heads up back home," his voice suddenly grew firm.
He talked about looking for work in South Sudan during his suspension, and how employers shook their heads as soon as they saw his name;
about returning to the United States and scraping by with odd jobs, living in a basement that cost three hundred dollars a month, and staring blankly at basketball game recordings every day;
about lying awake at night, replaying it all over and over, wondering if he might