Ray Allen nodded beside him. "It's not just the Spurs players who are in a tough spot. Their coach is even worse off."
"They watched the Lakers close the gap little by little, tie the game, and then take the lead, and they had no way to stop them."
"That's the most painful part for them."
That was right. The Spurs players were in a tough spot, and Wemby was in an even worse one.
He had to be careful with every step, as if walking along a cliff's edge or treading on thin ice.
He was terrified that one wrong step would ruin everything.
But even so, with four minutes left in the game, the moment finally came.
As they fought for a rebound, Wemby had established position.
But Wang Yi was pressed against him, making him afraid to move, so all he could do was watch Aiton jump.
This had happened at least five times already that game.
It left Wemby deeply frustrated.
So he took a step forward first, putting some distance between himself and Wang Yi, then jumped to contest the rebound with Aiton.
He thought, Surely I won't foul him this time, right?
But the moment Wemby jumped, he suddenly felt that something was wrong.
Why had his knee hit something?
Wemby hurriedly looked down.
And there he saw Wang Yi had just made intimate contact between his forehead and Wemby's knee.
Then Wang Yi fell straight backward.
Oh, shit.
Wemby's mind went completely blank.
The referee's whistle rang out immediately.
Tweet—tweet—tweet—tweet—tweet—tweet!
Wang Yi lay on the floor, covering his face with his left hand and pounding the ground with his right, looking to be in great pain.
"Ah!" Wemby finally came to his senses.
He spread his hands toward the referee and shouted angrily: