The reporter asked Wang Yi.
"Wang, 49,999 points—did you do that on purpose? I saw your final free throw. It seemed like you deliberately missed it."
Wang Yi shrugged.
"I wouldn't say I deliberately missed it. That was just the limit of my ability. I really couldn't make it. Nothing I could do.
Who wouldn't want the chance to score 50,000 points?
I wanted it too."
When the fans heard Wang Yi's Post-game Interview, they were all speechless.
Bro, you clearly missed it on purpose. How could you say that with a straight face?
The reporter naturally knew Wang Yi had deliberately missed the free throw, but since Wang Yi had said so, there was nothing she could do but ask another question.
"Then aren't you disappointed? You were only one point away from 50,000. Will you play a few more games next season to make up that final point?"
Wang Yi smiled and shook his head.
"I'm old already. I can't play anymore. I only came back this season because the Lakers were short-handed. If the Lakers weren't lacking players, I wouldn't have returned."
After the game, who knew how many people with obsessive-compulsive disorder around the whole world wanted to hang themselves from a tree.
Across online platforms, every video, post, and update was filled with complaints.
"Brother Yi, I have severe OCD. If you want to kill me, just say so!"
"Brother Yi, can't we just be normal??"
"Since coming back this season, your free throw shooting percentage has been 96.4%, and you're telling me you couldn't make the last one? The way you shot that final free throw made it obvious you never intended to make it."
"Brother Yi, I'm crying my eyes out. You really aren't leaving us OCD sufferers even a shred of hope."