The Tragic Old Warrior
After Wang Yi sank the game-winning three, his final score for the night was set at 53 points.
His stat line: 53 points, 14 rebounds, 5 blocks, 5 assists, and 5 steals.
He had filled every column of the stat sheet once again.
But he didn't leap onto the scorer's table to celebrate like he had before.
Nor did he roar at the sky.
He simply returned to the Resting Area on the sidelines.
His teammates rushed over to bump chests with him, but when they saw he wasn't in a celebratory mood, they settled for high-fives instead.
After high-fiving his teammates, the coaching staff, and the other staff members on the sidelines, Wang Yi plopped down, grabbed a bottle of water beside him, and gulped it down.
The sight left everyone astonished.
Wang Yi had hit a logo three from way downtown to win the game in the final seconds. Every Kings fan—and even people who weren't fans of either the Kings or the Suns—would have been thrilled by the sight.
Yet Wang Yi was the calmest person there.
He looked as if he'd just hit an ordinary three-pointer.
After resting for a moment, Wang Yi made his way through the crowd around him and looked across the court at the old warrior.
The old warrior was looking back at him.
Wang Yi took the initiative and walked over to Paul, the old warrior.
A veteran who had spent 18 years fighting for his dream, and whose competitiveness ranked among the fiercest in the league.
He had never won a championship;
He had never won an MVP;
He had no major accolades to his name.
But he was worthy of respect.
For 18 years, he had never forgotten what he started out fighting for.
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