He set down his water bottle, leaned forward slightly, and folded his hands on the table, as though he were about to lay bare his truest thoughts.
"Tonight, for the first time, I went head-to-head with him for three full quarters. I finally... finally understood what those guys felt when they matched up against him. Now I know what the players who guard Li Fei go through."
His voice grew deeply reflective, and there was even a trace of lingering fear in his eyes.
"It's... utter despair. You know exactly what he's going to do. You know he'll post you up, turn around for a fadeaway, or knock you aside with his shoulder, but you just can't stop him. His strength, his skill, his composure—put them together, and he's like a precision killing machine. You brace against him with everything you have, and it feels like you're trying to stop a freight train with your bare hands. You try to anticipate his moves, only to find he's always one step ahead. Or rather, he doesn't even care what you anticipate. He just uses pure strength and technique to crush every defense you put up."
The press room fell silent, with only his slow, steady, powerful voice echoing through it. The reporters even forgot to press their shutter buttons. They simply listened intently, recording this former champion's brutally candid "confession."
"I remember one possession when I figured he was going to turn toward the baseline, so I shifted half a step early. All he did was give me a little nudge with his shoulder, force his way around against my body, and hit a hook shot over my head. That was when I realized how ridiculous all those so-called defensive techniques looked against his overwhelming strength. He doesn't even need a