Although he hadn't gotten any playing time all game, Link had been buzzing with excitement all night.
After all, this was Toyota Center. This was the NBA—the place he'd once been able to see only on TV.
Sitting beside him was Chase Budinger, followed by "Little Steel Cannon" Kyle Lowry, Jordan Hill, Courtney Lee, and other Rockets stars he'd known by heart.
Behind him were nearly twenty thousand frenzied fans. In the G League, a crowd of around two thousand had already seemed overwhelming to Link. But here at Toyota Center, there were ten times as many people watching! The cheers were just as loud—ten times louder than at a G League game.
On top of that, the fierce action on the court, the referee's sharp whistles, and the shouts of players and coaches had sent Link's adrenaline soaring from his courtside seat.
A seat on the bench was something money couldn't buy. As a fan, Link couldn't help getting swept up in the atmosphere.
So even during garbage time, he'd watched with rapt attention. Argentina's Luis Scola had been nearly perfect that night, ruling the paint in Yao Ming's place.
Watching Scola sweat it out on the court and come away with a win, Link had wanted to experience that feeling for himself, to contribute to a victory.
But clearly, that wasn't realistic. He'd spent the whole previous day at promotional events, and today he'd practiced separately from the team. Under those circumstances, the coach certainly wasn't going to put him in.
Still, Link wasn't discouraged. He had two more chances. If he put in a strong performance in either game, maybe he'd earn a second ten-day contract.
Just as Link was lost in thought, the Pistons called a timeout. There was 1:48 left, but they were already down by nearly twenty points.
Judging by how the Pistons had played all night, they weren't likely to close the gap. So the point of the timeout was probably to pull the starters and make it official: the game was in garbage time.
Link stood and high-fived the players coming off the court. He still wasn't familiar with his Rockets teammates, but basic courtesy mattered.
After the high-fives, Link sat back down at the end of the bench. He noticed several cameras pointed at him. As an Asian player, he'd never have to worry about being left off camera. It was just a shame he couldn't put on a show for the Chinese fans who liked him tonight.
"Link! Get over here!"
Amid the noise, Link heard someone shout.
His heart suddenly began to race, and he turned toward Adelman. At first, he thought he'd misheard. He'd thought Adelman was calling for him more than once that night, only to realize he'd imagined it.
But when Link saw Adelman beckoning to him, he couldn't stop himself from trembling.
This time, the coach really was calling for him!
The Rockets players all stared at Link in surprise, at the new teammate who'd never practiced with them. Link froze for a moment, then quickly tore off his disposable warm-up shirt and ran over to Adelman.
Wasn't playing the whole reason he'd come to the NBA!?
"Link has taken off his warm-up shirt! Coach Adelman is putting him in for the final two minutes. Let's see what Link can do for us!"
At the same time, the CCTV commentator cried out excitedly. Since Yao Ming went down, this was the second time a Chinese player had taken the court for the Rockets.
It was only garbage time, and there were less than two minutes left. But every Chinese fan with time to watch had their eyes fixed on Link.
The enormous Chinese market had been roused by the Rockets.
Adelman looked at Link without drawing up a play. He said just one thing, but it filled Link with fighting spirit.
"Remember, don't lose that enthusiasm."
Before Link could respond, Adelman pushed him onto the court.
At that moment, Toyota Center erupted in thunderous cheers. Countless Chinese fans rose from their seats, overwhelmed with pride.
"Who's that guy? I don't remember seeing him on the Rockets in their last game." Chris Webber, calling the game from the broadcast booth, was nowhere near as excited as the Chinese fans and the CCTV commentator.
"Tom Lin, nicknamed Link. Two days ago, he was playing for the Oklahoma City Blue. The day before yesterday, he signed a ten-day contract with the Rockets. He's looked pretty good in his last two G League games, recording a triple-double against Luke Ba Weiyuan and a double-double against Stephenson. Those two games are what brought him to the NBA's attention."
Beside Webber, Kevin Harlan read from his notes. He didn't expect much from Link. Even a fool knew why the Rockets had signed him.
With the Rockets struggling, no one could match the attention an Asian-American player could bring them.
As for how the guy played? Who cared?
Under Webber and Harlan's dismissive gazes, Link stepped onto the court. He saw the huge R logo at center court, and his heart raced.
Toyota Center was a special place for every Chinese basketball fan. And now he was stepping onto the very same floor as he had nine years earlier.
Both teams had put in their reserves. The Rockets had sent out Jermaine Taylor, Courtney Lee, Link, Patrick Patterson, and Jordan Hill—a true garbage-time lineup.
The Pistons had brought in Will Bynum, Ben Gordon, Austin Daye, and Monroe. Notably, they'd left McGrady on the court. The Pistons were riddled with injuries, and Hamilton and Prince were getting old and couldn't play too long. So McGrady, who'd come off the bench, had to finish out garbage time.
That made garbage time suddenly worth watching. Everyone realized Link would be matched up against McGrady!
Once play resumed, the Rockets got the first possession. Link would've liked to play alongside Lowry, but Lowry was now the team's starting point guard, so Link had to make do with Jermaine Taylor's slow advance up the court.
Link had no idea what plays the Rockets ran, so he had to rely on his instincts to read the game and find his spot. He moved to the right corner, making as much room as he could for his teammates.
Taylor didn't waste any time. When he saw his teammates spread out, he raised a hand and called for a screen from Jordan Hill. As a fringe player who could be cut at any moment, Taylor also wanted a big moment or two to make an impression on Adelman.
So, once Hill had set the screen, Taylor drove with the ball.
Don't think players stop trying just because a game has reached garbage time. The outcome might already be decided, but these were all reserves fighting for minutes. They wanted to make a good impression.
That was why Pistons backup point guard Will Bynum defended so tightly.
Bynum was only 1.83 meters tall. Surviving in the NBA at that height was no easy task. After all, there weren't many prodigies like Paul in the world.
He made up for his lack of height with sheer effort. Bynum defended aggressively, slowing Taylor's drive considerably.
So when Taylor charged into the paint and tried to force up a layup using his height advantage, Pistons backup center Daye had already rotated over.
Daye wasn't a star by any stretch. The peak of his career came when he won a championship with the Spurs in the 2013–14 season.
His ability was nothing special, but he played hard on defense, with an almost extraordinary obsession with steals and blocks.
So, as Taylor jumped, the California big man came in from the side and leaped high, swatting the ball from Jermaine Taylor's raised hands as if he were spiking a volleyball!
"Oof! That was ugly! Who did Jermaine Taylor think he was, Russell Westbrook? Hahahaha!"
Seeing Taylor humiliate himself by biting off more than he could chew, Webber and Harlan burst out laughing in the broadcast booth.
The ball flew toward the right corner. It looked like it was about to go out of bounds, but a pair of big hands snatched it up.
It was Link. The first-time player in Houston's number five jersey had the ball!
"Link grabs the rebound. That's his first official stat in the NBA. But I don't think Tracy's going to let him score easily."
Webber had barely finished speaking when Link, without even jumping, casually tossed the ball toward the hoop.
Everyone, including Adelman, was stunned. What was this guy doing? Even in garbage time, he couldn't just shoot like that! He was throwing it up with a defender on him—and he wasn't even jumping!
Just as everyone was about to burst out laughing or start cursing, a dark figure suddenly shot forward and caught the ball in midair.
Then the "dark figure" tensed, his muscles bulging, and slammed the ball through the hoop!
"Bam!"
The force bent the rim downward. When people looked closer, they saw Jordan Hill hanging from it. He dropped to the floor and roared at the ceiling. Nothing got Hill more fired up than an alley-oop.
"An alley-oop! That's an alley-oop! How did he see Hill? As far as I know, this guy hasn't even practiced with the Rockets. But... no, that can't be!"
Webber clutched his head. A disguised alley-oop like that should have come from two players with a great deal of chemistry. But this was the first time Link and Hill had ever played together!
Only two possibilities could explain that play. Either Link and Hill had gotten lucky, or that number five had the court vision of a point guard!
Adelman smiled. He liked players who used their heads. McGrady, meanwhile, stared at Link in surprise. Why did that casual stride of his seem so familiar?
As for Link, he was thinking that he'd definitely make the NBA's top five plays tonight.
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