bookbashuk Chapter 28 Jordan Retires! Benched for the First 3 Quarters
Chapter 28 Jordan Retires! Benched for the First 3 Quarters
February 9, 2003, Phillips Arena, Atlanta.
Spotlights illuminated the arena's dome as bright as day, and over 20,000 fans packed the stadium to capacity, the air thick with a mixture of reluctance and fervor. On the giant screen in the center of the arena, iconic moments from Michael Jordan's career were playing on a loop—his free-throw line dunk, his game-winning shot, his sixth championship trophy. Each frame was met with a deafening roar of cheers from the crowd.
This was the last All-Star Game for the basketball god, a farewell performance for a legend.
The atmosphere in the Western Conference All-Star rookie locker room was far less enthusiastic than off the court.
Lin Hao leaned against the wardrobe in the far corner, his fingertips casually stroking the rim of the ebony suona. The crooked "Lin" character carved on the suona gleamed from the wear. Beside his feet was a thermos with a sticker of Northeast Yangko dance on it, containing a dozen or so cans of yellow peaches neatly stacked inside—goods from his hometown that Zhao Dabao had bought from Chinatown overnight.
He was the All-Star vote leader this year, and the first second-round pick in NBA history to win the vote leader title in his rookie season. But right now, he doesn't even have his name on the starting lineup.
Western Conference head coach Don Nelson has just announced the starting lineup: Yao Ming, Kevin Garnett, Tim Duncan, Kobe Bryant, and Steve Nash. Five established superstars, not even a single spot was reserved for this upstart boy from Northeast China.
The atmosphere in the locker room was incredibly subtle. Garnett leaned against the locker, wiping his protective gear, his gaze sweeping over Lin Hao with undisguised disdain; Kobe sat in a chair with his arms crossed, his face so cold it could frost off, not once glancing in Lin Hao's direction; Duncan quietly wrapped his wrist in bandages, saying nothing, like an outsider.
Only Yao Ming and Kobe Bryant actively approached Lin Hao.
"Don't take it to heart." Yao Ming patted him on the shoulder, his voice low. "You were supposed to play in this game."
"If things don't go well later, I'll go talk to Don Nelson and ask him why you shouldn't play." Kobe turned around, frowned, leaned against the wardrobe, glanced at the coaching staff not far away, and sneered: "A bunch of old fogies, they only care about seniority, not ability. When you locked down Jordan and scored 42 points to win MVP in the rookie game, why didn't they call you an internet celebrity? Don't worry, when things don't go well on the court later, let's see where they put their faces."
Lin Hao grinned, unscrewed a can of yellow peaches, forked a piece of peach and put it in his mouth. The sweet juice melted in his mouth, suppressing the slight frustration he felt.
"It's alright, Yao and Kobe," he said slowly. "Whether we play or not, we'll see how the game goes. If things don't go well, they'll naturally remember me. What's the rush? Gold shines wherever it is. We can't let ourselves get the most votes and sit on the bench for the whole game, can we?"
That's what he said, but he knew perfectly well what was going on in his mind.
This hiatus was destined from the very beginning.
The old-school coaches and established stars in the league never recognized him as the "internet celebrity vote king." In their eyes, it was outrageous for a second-round pick to surpass Jordan, O'Neal, and Kobe by relying on suona horns and votes from the Chinese market, stealing the spotlight from the basketball god's farewell game.
Don Nelson and Eastern Conference head coach Isaiah Thomas had already reached a tacit understanding: this game was Jordan's farewell performance, and they couldn't let a rookie steal the spotlight. Even if he was the leading vote-getter, he would have to sit on the bench.
[Beep! Host detected unfair treatment on the field, triggering passive skill [Big Heart] (Max Level)!]
[Skill Activation: Under high-pressure competition conditions, the host's mental stability is permanently increased by 100%, unaffected by external factors or public pressure, and tactical analysis clarity is increased by 30%!]
The cold system notification sounded in his mind, and Lin Hao's smile deepened.
He pulled out the well-worn youth training notebook from his backpack, then took out a pen. Ignoring the strange looks from the others in the locker room, he began to write and draw on the countertop of the wardrobe.
An announcement came over the players' tunnel, reminding both teams to enter the field. Old Nelson, carrying his tactical board, walked at the front, not even glancing at Lin Hao once.
Lin Hao put the notebook back in his pocket, picked up the ebony suona, and followed the group into the arena.
The spotlight swept over instantly, and when the camera focused on Lin Hao, the entire audience erupted in a deafening cheer. The Chinese fan section went wild, with more than a dozen suonas blaring at the same time. The tune of "A Man Should Be Self-reliant" mingled with the cheers, almost blowing the roof off the stadium.
No matter how loud the cheers were, they couldn't change the fact that he was a substitute.
The opening whistle blew, and the match officially began.
The Western Conference All-Star starting lineup was nothing short of a dream team—a formidable trio of Yao Ming, Duncan, and Garnett in the paint, and Kobe Bryant and Tracy McGrady, all legendary scorers on the perimeter. On paper, they overwhelmed the Eastern Conference. But in reality, the game was a completely different story.
The All-Star Game is meant to be an exhibition game, with everyone playing with restraint. But in the West, the superstars were playing individually, attacking one player at a time without any coordination, resulting in a fragmented offense.
The situation in the East was completely different. Everyone was setting up Jordan, with Iverson, Carter, and McGrady taking turns feeding the basketball god. Every time Jordan took a shot, the entire arena erupted in cheers. Halfway through the first quarter, Jordan had easily scored 8 points, and the East led the West 28-22 by 6 points.
During the first quarter's official timeout, the big screen panned across the bench, and when the camera focused on Lin Hao, the entire audience erupted in a unified shout:
"WE WANT LIN HAO!"
"We want Lin Hao!"
The shouts were deafening, even catching the commentators off guard for a moment before they jokingly remarked, "It seems the Atlanta crowd can't wait to see this Rising Stars MVP take the court! When will this Chinese kid, who conquered America with his suona and explosive performance, finally get his chance to play?"
The timeout ended, and Don Nelson made a substitution.
He substituted Nowitzki and Francis, but still didn't call out Lin Hao's name.
A deafening chorus of boos erupted instantly, and the suona horns from the Chinese fans' section ceased, replaced by shouts of discontent.
On the bench, Kobe frowned and walked over to Don Nelson, whispering, "Coach, let Lin Hao play. His passing and rhythm control can connect the team's offense."
"What's the rush?" Old Nelson waved his hand, his tone stubborn. "This is Jordan's farewell game. Let him play well first."
Kobe, who was listening nearby, just grimaced, rolled his eyes, and didn't say anything.
In the second quarter, the West's offense remained stagnant. Kobe and McGrady took turns attacking one-on-one, but their shooting touch was ice-cold. Garnett and Duncan also struggled to get the ball inside, and the gap widened further, at one point trailing by a full 14 points.
With two minutes left in the second quarter, the game had completely entered garbage time. Old Nelson finally waved impatiently at Lin Hao: "Lin, you go in."
Lin Hao put down the can of yellow peaches in his hand, stretched his wrists and ankles, and stepped into the arena.
The audience erupted in a thunderous cheer, but it lasted for less than a minute before turning into even louder boos.
The Western Conference substitutes on the court didn't pass the ball to Lin Hao at all.
Francis focused on his own game with the ball, while Nowitzki floated on the perimeter taking wild shots. Even when Lin Hao found an open shot, the ball never reached him. In the short two minutes of garbage time, Lin Hao only touched the ball once, and that was when he was forced to receive an inbound pass. Just as he passed it, the final whistle blew.
At halftime, the West trailed the East 45-55 by 10 points.
林昊的技术统计栏，一片空白。0分0板0助攻，出场时间1分58秒。
In the player tunnel, Zhao Dabao was sweating profusely and tried to argue with Old Nelson, but Harris pulled him back.
"Zhao, calm down." Harris's face was also grim, but he remained rational. "Arguing now is useless; it will only make him target Lin more. I've already contacted the players' union and sent an email to the league office. With the fans' demands so strong, he can't let Lin sit for the entire game."
"We can't let my Haozi suffer like this!" Zhao Dabao was so anxious he almost blurted out his Northeastern accent. "He's the vote leader! The vote leader with the most votes in the entire league! We're only letting him play two minutes of garbage time? Isn't that bullying?"
In the locker room, Lin Hao acted as if nothing had happened, sitting in a chair, spreading out his youth training notebook, and writing and drawing non-stop.
The notebook was filled with notes detailing the defensive habits and tactical weaknesses of the East, as well as the problems on the offensive end of the West.
- The Eastern Conference's zone defense collapsed significantly, leaving open shots in the corners. Carter didn't like to get back on defense, Iverson's gambles on steals often resulted in him being out of position, and Jordan's stamina declined, with his lateral movement noticeably slower.
The Western Conference offense lacked coordination, relying entirely on isolation plays. The three big men were completely wasted inside, the ball movement from the perimeter was too slow, pick-and-rolls were of zero quality, and the rhythm was chaotic.
"You've filled this up completely?" Yao Ming leaned over to take a look, his eyes instantly lighting up. "You've completely dismantled the defensive weaknesses in the East?"
"Otherwise what? We can't just sit on the bench for the whole game, can we?" Lin Hao smiled and handed him his notes. "Brother Yao, look, when you come on the court later, you set a screen for me at the high post. I'll use the screen to drive and dish. You either roll to the basket or pop out for a mid-range shot. Duncan and Garnett will create space and give up the inside, and their zone defense will be completely useless."
Kobe also came over, looked at the tactical breakdown in the notes, and whistled: "Kid, with a brain like yours, it's a shame you're not a coach. When you get on the court later, I'll give you off-ball play. You just pass the ball, and I'll put it in the basket for you."
Lin Hao grinned and forked a piece of canned yellow peach into his mouth.
He was never a reckless fool who only knew how to act blindly. With over a decade of experience as a youth coach in his previous life, his greatest strength lay in dismantling tactics and exploiting the opponent's weaknesses. Even when he was on the bench, he wasn't idle. He had thoroughly figured out every move on the field and every player's habits.
The game resumed in the third quarter, and Nelson still showed no intention of letting Lin Hao play.
The audience's dissatisfaction completely erupted.
Whenever the West's offense misses a shot, the entire stadium erupts in a unified chant of "WE WANT LIN HAO!" Whenever the East scores, a deluge of boos rains down on the West's bench, especially from Don Nelson, who is met with deafening boos every time the camera focuses on him.
In the third quarter, the situation in the West worsened.
Kobe and McGrady's shooting touch remained ice-cold, while Garnett and Duncan were double-teamed and unable to move inside. Meanwhile, Carter and Ray Allen from the East hit consecutive three-pointers, widening the gap further. With 30 seconds left in the third quarter, Jordan, facing Kobe's defense, sank a signature fadeaway jumper, sending the entire arena into a frenzy.
The final buzzer sounded, and after three quarters, the West trailed the East by a full 12 points, 78-90.
The outcome of the match was no longer in doubt.
Throughout the Phillips Arena, boos drowned out cheers. More than 20,000 spectators stood up and chanted Lin Hao's name wildly. The suona horns in the Chinese fan section blared again, and the tune of "People from Our Village" mingled with the shouts, making the floor tremble.
Next to the technical table, league officials, their faces ashen, kept talking to old Nelson.
Don Nelson's face turned as green as the bottom of a pot. He hadn't expected the audience's reaction to be so intense, and he certainly hadn't expected that the Western Conference, which boasted five superstars, would be down by as many as 12 points.
He turned his head and finally looked at the boy from Northeast China in the corner of the bench, who was slowly unscrewing a can of yellow peaches.
Lin Hao looked up, met his gaze, grinned, and revealed a set of white teeth.
He knew that his time was finally coming.