Miller shook his head lightly, a hint of helplessness in his voice.
"We kept switching, kept double-teaming him, and used every scheme the coaches could come up with."
"But he's seven-foot-four, with those terrifyingly long arms."
"As long as he gets the ball, he can get his shot off in an instant."
"Our defense was already at its absolute limit, yet we still couldn't stop his mid-range game."
Miller paused for a moment, the defiance in his eyes replaced by sincere admiration.
"Li Fei tonight was simply on another level."
"He was everywhere on both ends of the floor—rebounds, blocks, playmaking, unstoppable mid-range shots. He could do it all."
"You could tell that the rumors off the court hadn't affected him in the slightest."
"He turned all that pressure into overwhelming force on the court."
The reporters listened quietly, and no one interrupted him.
No one had expected Miller, who had always been hard-mouthed and rarely praised opponents, to offer such high praise.
A veteran reporter from the Indiana Star seized the moment and stepped forward.
"You've been extremely generous in your praise for Li Fei, but has your view of Michael Jordan remained unchanged?"
The question was like a boulder thrown into a lake, instantly stirring up the atmosphere.
The interview area, which had only just calmed down, became tense again.
The admiration for Li Fei quickly faded from Miller's face, and his sharp edges returned.
He straightened his back, his gaze turning keen as his voice suddenly rose.
"These are two different matters and shouldn't be mixed together."
"I acknowledge Li Fei's greatness. He deserves every bit of respect."
"But respecting Li Fei doesn't mean I have to forgive Jordan's choice."
"The Bulls were where he built his career and forged his legend."
"That was where all his