"Ow! Another miss! Why is Grandmama's shooting so ice-cold today?!" A middle-aged man in a tank top slapped his thigh hard, his face full of anxiety.
"Easy, easy. It's only the first quarter."
An elderly man beside him adjusted his reading glasses and said leisurely, "Li Fei hasn't started exerting himself yet. Did you see that putback dunk? How domineering! He dunked that what's-his-name... Duncan, straight onto the floor!"
"Exactly! That was so satisfying!" A young man pumped his fist excitedly. "That's how they should play! Let them know who's boss!"
The children, meanwhile, knew nothing about tactics. They simply cheered for the yellow-skinned giant wearing the Knicks' number 7 jersey on the television.
He was every child's idol, the starting point of their basketball dreams.
In the more distant northern countryside, things were even simpler.
In a small farmhouse courtyard, the village's only television had been moved to the center, with people packed around it in layer upon layer.
There were no stools, so people stood or simply sat on the ground.
The summer night breeze carried the scent of earth and crops, yet it could not dispel the tension and anticipation on their faces.
The village chief held an antenna made from wire and soda cans, carefully adjusting its direction in an attempt to sharpen the signal. Every flicker of the picture drew an anxious chorus of urging.
"Old Li, can you even do this?! Don't screw up at a crucial moment!"
"Quit yapping! I've twisted this thing so hard it's practically a pretzel!" Chief Old Li was sweating profusely, his eyes locked on the screen.
When Li Fei was double-teamed and his pass was missed by a teammate, a regretful sigh rose from the crowd.
But when they saw Li Fei's earthshaking putback dunk, the entire courtyard