Gary Payton raised an eyebrow. "Would he be dissatisfied? Would he laugh at me?"
"Yeah, Michael won six in Chicago, and then a seventh in Los Angeles with Shaq and Jason before he retired. Seven to four, Gary," Lin Qi said, emphasizing each word. "Even if we win this year, you'll only have five rings. Michael will just have to sit in the TV studio, put the seven rings on the table, and smile at the entire nation, saying, 'Seven is always greater than four.' What will you use to shut him up then?"
Gary Payton's fists clenched so tightly they cracked, and the veins on his neck bulged.
"And then there's the part about you waiting for Howard Schultz to fail in Seattle a few years from now, then going back to buy the Seattle SuperSonics." Lin Qi didn't stop there, digging deeper, "But have you considered why David Stern approved Michael's investment in Charlotte's new team this summer? The league board begged him to be the owner in Charlotte. Why? Because he's the ' God of Basketball,' with seven championship rings, and because of his unparalleled prestige in the league!"
Lin Qi walked up to Gary Payton and slapped Gary Payton hard on the shoulder. "The NBA's owners' circle is an exclusive billionaire club. Those old white men look down on black athletes who came from basketball backgrounds. If you want to sit at the negotiating table and buy the Seattle SuperSonics in the future, money alone isn't enough. You need to have a status in the industry that Stern and the board wouldn't dare say no to!"
Gary Payton, panting, pondered Lin Qi's words.
"If in the next few years, you have a falling out with the Celtics over a starting position and are traded to another team where you barely get a starting spot, nobody will respect you," Lin Qi stared at Gary Payton. "But what if you, as a mentor, personally train Dwyane into the most terrifying, two-way superstar in the league, leading Boston to three, four, or even five consecutive championships—a feat they couldn't achieve back then? By then, you'll have seven or eight championship rings. If Michael still dares to be sarcastic on TV, you can show off your rings, point at Dwyane on the court, and tell the whole world: Look closely, Michael, the monster on the court who shatters the league's defense is my protégé, Gary Payton's last disciple!"
" Dwyane was trained by you personally," Lin Qi's voice echoed in the arena. "He is the continuation of your will and style of play. If he performs well, you will deserve half the credit for every trophy this new dynasty wins. Returning to Seattle with eight rings and the prestige of two generations of dynasty godfathers, David Stern himself will have to fly to KeyArena to open the door for you!"
The secondary field was deathly silent.
Gary Payton stood there, the veins bulging on his right hand gripping the towel, his chest heaving violently.
If all he had to do was give way to Wade, he'd rather turn the locker room upside down. But Lin Qi gave him a completely different path. He treated Wade as his own creation, crafting Wade to surpass Jordan, and then used the prestige of two generations of the Boston Dynasty veterans to gain the opportunity to take over in Seattle.
These thoughts raced through Gary Payton's mind, and the resentment that had been weighing on his heart instantly transformed into a burgeoning ambition.
"As for those five hundred spot-up three-pointers," Lin Qi glanced down at the basketball on the ground, his tone softening, "Don't think Chip is messing with you. Think about your little brother Jason Kidd, whom you trained in Oakland. Back then, the whole league laughed at Jason for not having a jump shot, but after two seasons of training with Jordan, he developed a three-pointer. You already had a shooting foundation; it's just that your physical abilities have declined. Chip is helping you modify this shooting mechanism to help you extend your career as much as possible."
Gary Payton let out a long sigh and glanced down at the basketball rolling at his feet.
A good ten seconds passed before Gary Payton looked up, wiped his bald head, and said in a hoarse voice, "That little brat... his first step is indeed unbelievably fast, but his center of gravity is too high when he dribbles past screens. And on the defensive end, he always likes to gamble on steals..."
Lin Qi's lips curled into a slight smile, "Since you've spotted so many flaws, what are you still standing here for? Go teach your apprentice how to play."
Gary Payton bent down, grabbed the wristband from the folding chair, and quickly slipped it back onto his right wrist. Then he squatted down and tightened the laces of his sneakers again.
"Lin, let me make this clear first," Gary Payton said, turning back as he reached the auxiliary field gate, gripping the doorknob. "When I yell at someone on the practice field, even I'm afraid of myself. If that kid cries after I yell at him, don't come looking for trouble."
"Do whatever you want, as long as you don't send him to the hospital." Lin Qi waved his hand.
Gary Payton grinned, pushed open the heavy soundproof door, and stormed through the corridor into the main training field.
Inside the main training field, the squeaking sound of sneakers rubbing against the floor echoed throughout.
Wade had just used Ben Wallace's screen at the top of the arc, shaken off Tyronn Lue, and driven to the free-throw line. Facing backup center Chandler's help defense, he twisted his waist in mid-air and shoved the ball toward the corner. Unfortunately, the pass was too straight and was poked out of bounds by Artest, who had rotated over.
"Stop! Dwyane, Tyson Chandler blocked your passing lane just now. You should have used a bounce pass half a beat earlier!" Head coach Rick Carlisle blew his whistle and strode onto the field to correct him.
Wade, hands on his knees, caught his breath and was about to nod when a hoarse, piercing voice suddenly erupted from the sidelines.
"Bounce my ass! With this level of defensive density, a bounce pass will be intercepted and used for a counter-attack before the ball even hits the ground!"
All ten players on the court turned around at the same time. Gary Payton, wearing a black training vest, swaggered onto the wooden floor, shoved the sweating Tyronn Lue aside, and stood less than half a step in front of Wade.
Gary Payton bent down, slammed his right hand on the floor, and stared at Wade with his chin raised. "That last play, the big guy on the other end just shifted his weight, you should have used your left shoulder to block the guard chasing you and shoved the ball under his ribs into the basket! What are you standing there for, rookie? Get the ball back to the top of the key, I'm going to guard you myself today and see what you've been practicing for the past six months!"
Rick Carlisle, standing on the sidelines, paused for a moment, then turned to see Lin Qi slowly walking out of the tunnel. He put the whistle back in his mouth, waved towards the baseline, and shouted, "Serve! First team, keep attacking!"
Raja Bell passed the ball to Wade from the baseline.
Wade dribbled to the top of the key and just raised his left hand to call for Big Ben to set Boston Pick-and-Roll. Gary Payton, who was close in front of him, suddenly stepped forward, his left forearm subtly pressing against Wade's waist and abdomen, while his right hand slashed down sharply during the gap in Wade's dribble.
Snap!
The basketball was sliced off by Gary Payton and rolled all the way to the center circle.
Gary Payton didn't even glance at the rolling basketball. He stood at the top of the key, arms crossed, grinning coldly at Wade who stumbled after missing his target. "You think you can be a starting point guard with this basic ball-handling? Go get the ball back. Nobody's going back to the locker room to shower until we've mastered this pick-and-roll ball-handling footwork this afternoon!"
Wade gritted his teeth, didn't say a word, turned around and jogged to the center circle to retrieve the basketball. He walked back to the top of the arc, slammed the ball heavily onto the wooden floor, lowered his shoulders, and charged forward again to meet Gary Payton's close chest.