basketball never sleeps

Chapter 319: A Roadside

In the Bobcats' general manager's office, Jordan sat imposingly in his office chair, giving an interview to the media.

"Even Superman gets old. How do you feel now?" the reporter asked, holding up the microphone.

"You know, getting older doesn't really affect me, but I've gained weight for a while now because I haven't trained much since retiring. Now I wear loose-fitting clothes, and it's so hard to lose weight after developing some bad habits..."

"I heard you've been taking on motorcycle challenges lately? How did you fall in love with this sport?"

"Oh, after I retired, I would often go racing on the streets of Chicago with my nephew at two or three in the morning. That's how I fell in love with the sport. I've loved riding motorcycles since I was a kid, loved speeding around with a helmet on, and I wanted to rediscover that feeling. You know, those crazy maneuvers with the front wheel off the ground always get you incredibly excited. One day at three in the morning, I stumbled upon two street racers, and that gave me the urge to join them. We raced together for an entire summer..." (Note: This is a true interview statement)
"Speaking of motivation, the first time you left the league was because basketball could no longer challenge you. Now that you see players like Mo, I wonder if you have any desire to make a comeback?"

"It's inevitable. Mo is one of the best players I've ever seen in this sport. His skills are amazing, whether it's assists or shooting. I think he's already the greatest shooter and playmaker in history. If I had the chance, I would really like to play against him again, but unfortunately he's only 24 years old and I'm 44. Our competition is no longer on the same level. The Bobcats have strengthened their perimeter this year, and I'm looking forward to the upcoming game."

Do you think the Bobcats have a chance to beat the SuperSonics, who just won the championship?

"I can't guarantee it, but I have full confidence in my players, haha."

The question-and-answer session between the two was quite pleasant. After more than ten minutes, the female reporter put away her recorder with satisfaction, exchanged a few more polite words, and then politely said goodbye and left the room.

After watching the reporter leave, Danzi's smile vanished instantly, replaced by a look of gloom and irritation.

"Boss?" The fake Bobcats general manager, Bickerstaff, leaned in and his heart skipped a beat when he saw Jordan's expression.

"Come in." Jordan put his legs up on the desk, absentmindedly trimming a cigar with a cigar cutter. "How's the preparation for tomorrow's game going?"

"Sam and I have been preparing for a long time. The players are in good condition and are very motivated."

Bickerstaff said cautiously that he was originally the team's head coach and general manager, but because the team's performance was poor last season, his head coach position was taken by Sam Vincent, that sycophant. After becoming the general manager, Jordan was still very dissatisfied with his work and claimed that he wanted to find two assistants to help him.

He had grievances, but dared not speak them, because Bob Johnson, the Bobcats' major owner, was no longer interested in the business due to years of losses, and Jordan had priority purchase rights, so it was hard to say when he would become the team's true owner.

"I don't fucking care how you guys prepared, all I want is results, you understand? The team brought in Jason (Richardson) and Felton, not for you guys to play house, I want victory! At the very least, show me your fighting spirit, understand? If you lose this game, you can fucking pack your bags!"

Not getting the answer he wanted, Jordan immediately exploded. He thought the whole team of Black players were cowards, not even as good as that Australian white pig. It's only because he stopped playing that things...

"Fuck, what are you still standing there for? Didn't you hear what I said, you idiot?!"

Bickerstaff really wanted to say, "I'm the general manager," and kick Jordan out of his office, but he didn't dare. He could only lower his head and leave the room, gently closing the door behind him, and then signaling his trusted secretary to quickly go in and help Danzi calm down.

The team performed well, but Jordan still had reason to be angry.

With the success of Mo Wen's "Winner" series and the growing popularity of "Magic Shoes," the most affected are Air Jordans, which have a similar positioning.

No matter how well Kobe and LeBron's shoes sell, Jordan isn't worried because they're not on the same level.

Starting with the ban and fines imposed on the red and black colorway of the AJ1, AJ's marketing positioning has been differentiated from that of professional basketball shoes.

AJ's marketing team has always been committed to making AJ a symbol of trend culture. Before that, they had been doing a good job. Even though Jordan's influence on the court had diminished after his retirement and the endorsements they hired were not very popular, AJ's influence among young people has been expanding year by year thanks to hype and the development of the secondary market.

Mo Wen's Magic Shoes are different. Their attractive appearance and limited-edition marketing have positioned them as high-end products from the start. Although their positioning is different from that of Air Jordan, they are positioned in the high-end market that Air Jordan most wants to develop and penetrate.

In the realm of professional basketball shoes, the "Winner" brand's high performance but not durability, luxurious attributes naturally give it a superior position, putting it ahead of AJ.

This is targeted, this is definitely targeted!

After retiring, Danzi studied magic and made many investments in different fields, with some profits and some losses, but the main business supporting his wealth has always been Air Jordans.

The divorce happened recently. Juanita "only" took one-third of his assets according to the prenuptial agreement, which took away almost all of his cash flow. Now, the decline in AJ's revenue is like cutting into his flesh.

Putting everything else aside, he's been going to Las Vegas less often lately, and the lack of satisfaction with his gambling addiction has made him increasingly irritable.

dong dong.

This time, it was the Black female secretary who poked her head in.

When Danzi saw that her neckline was open and her clothes were disheveled, he felt angry again. She couldn't even dress properly for work; he had to give her a good talking-to.

……

After warming up, Tyson Chandler stared fiercely at the white trash in front of him with his bull-like eyes.

Mo Wen knew who Bogut was, so he couldn't be bothered with this clown. They weren't even in the same league. Trying to talk to him would be like talking to a stray dog ​​on the street—pure humiliation.

But Tyson was different. Winning the championship as a starter helped him regain his former confidence. He accepted that he couldn't beat top-three centers like Duncan and Yao Ming. He thought, "Who do you think you are to dare to challenge a championship center who averages a double-double?"

"What are you looking at?" Bogut stared at Tyson Chandler with an air of nonchalance.

"You better pray your teeth are strong enough." Tyson Chandler was so angry he laughed. You really don't know what the underworld is like.

"Who gave you the right to speak? You're just a defensive guy, you should just stay on the sidelines and watch." Bodog wanted to get Mo Wen's attention and start an argument, but Mo Wen ignored him completely.

He chickened out! He chickened out!

Doodle.

With a whistle from the referee, Tyson was the first to tip the basketball.

"Stay with Mo!" Bobcats head coach Sam Vincent shouted impatiently from the sidelines while Mo was still observing the situation on the field.

The Bobcats have a good record, and his position as head coach would be secure in any other team because the management of other teams are professionals. But the Bobcats are different. Dan could promote him with only one year of assistant coaching experience because of personal connections, and he can also easily kick him out.

On the court, Tyson Chandler didn't come up to set a screen as usual, but instead went straight to the basket.

Standing in front of Mo Wen was still Gerald Wallace, who had been guarding him last season.

Mo Wen suddenly accelerated and took a step back, feinting to Gerrard's center of gravity. Without pausing, Mo Wen decisively pushed the ball past him from the right side.

Felton promptly abandoned Ray Allen to come and help defend, and Mo Wen made a behind-the-back dribble move, flicking the ball behind his back and to Ray Allen, who was standing outside the three-point line.

Ray Allen's three-pointer missed, but Mo Wen, relying on his vast experience, judged the approximate landing point of the long rebound and grabbed it. Then, without any adjustment after landing, Mo Wen threw the ball toward the basket.

Bodog was secretly pleased that he had blocked the rebound position with a sneaky elbow under the basket.

Tyson Chandler, who turned around first and saw the basketball, immediately brightened up.

Taking advantage of his first observation, Tyson subtly pushed Bogdanovic, creating a half-step distance. Then, with a slight bend in his knees, he launched himself into a helicopter-like leap, intercepting the basketball in mid-air with both hands. With a small twist of his body, he slammed the ball into the basket against the turning Bogdanovic.

"Don't turn your ass up to me. I'm not gay, but that doesn't stop me from fucking you to death!" Tyson's words almost made Bodog throw a punch on the spot.

"Fuck you, Tyson!" It wasn't Bodog who spoke, but Guy.

The Bobcats launched a counterattack, with Felton directing the team to spread out and execute tactics.

Bodog had barely crossed the three-point line and, before even getting into position, he impatiently made a gesture to ask for the ball.

But Felton ignored him. Bogdanovic hadn't suffered a major injury yet, and his athleticism hadn't deteriorated. He was still mainly playing the traditional low-post style, with little interaction with the perimeter.

On the contrary, Okafor took the initiative to set a screen for him.

Seeing that Mo Wen quickly covered for him, Felton, who had already paid his dues, did not hesitate. He took a step to the side and quickly passed the ball to Okafor before Mo Wen could get close.

Okafor thought he would have a size advantage over Millsap, but he didn't expect Millsap to be so strong in physical duels. With his passable ball control, Okafor couldn't get past Millsap at all, so he had no choice but to pass the ball back to Felton.

Felton passed the ball to Richardson, who tried to drive twice but failed to get past Ray Allen's defense. However, he managed to find an opportunity to pass to Bogdanovic, who had successfully established position under the basket.

Bodog was overjoyed, thinking it was time to show his true skills, but then he heard heavy footsteps rushing towards him from directly in front of him.

Felton has a high football IQ; he reminded and called out to them while raising his hands.

Bogut has the ability to facilitate passing, and his management team hopes he will work in that direction after seeing Milicic's development, but he has his own ideas.

He just got dunked on; if he passes the ball now, wouldn't he look like a softie?
He forced a turn, glanced at the basket, and then tossed the ball up.

Tyson jumped very high, but still couldn't block the shot because the arc was too high; the shot was almost vertical.

In a panic, Bodog regained possession of the ball, but Tyson's physicality and the strength of the team prevented him from holding on. Mo Wen came over in time to mediate the dispute between the two and took the basketball with him.

"Thank you!" Mo Wen mimicked Fan Wei's tone and said politely.

"Fuck" Bodog tried to push Tyson, but Tyson didn't disappoint him, pushing Bodog away almost simultaneously.

The baseline referee witnessed everything but remained unmoved. This is how it's always been in the battle for the paint; sissies don't deserve to play basketball.

It's clear that both of them are dedicated and good players; they got into the game right away.

Mo Wen pushed the ball across half-court and then bounced it to Gay.

Richardson, who was chasing Gay, was only 26 years old and in his prime. However, he was not known for his speed and was a step too slow, so he didn't even have a chance to pull Gay back.

Guy didn't waste this pass, which was as easy as a kindergarten teacher feeding him, and caught the ball, swung it around in the air, and slammed it in.

Sam Vincent was sweating and yelled at his players from the sidelines to play it safe.

Gerald Wallace, who had just signed a big new contract, stepped up. After receiving the ball, he bravely went to the basket and successfully sent the ball into the hoop with an ugly bank shot.

But when he returned, Mo Wen still instructed Tyson to sink.

Bodog's face darkened. His defense was decent, his help defense and switching were both on point, and his jumping ability was good for a white center, but he was still a dozen Yao Mings behind Tyson, who was known for his physical attributes.

He wasn't too afraid of Tyson setting screens, but in a pure talent contest under the basket, he wasn't very confident.

In this play, Mo Wen handed the ball to Ray Allen, pulled him aside, and then suddenly made a run to receive the ball and drive straight to the basket.

Gerrard's explosive power made his talent seem utterly mediocre. Bodog's face lit up with joy; this was the opportunity he had dreamed of countless times before the match.

Nothing demonstrates his toughness better than slapping the current best player down, ball and all.

As Mo Wen's figure drew closer, his heart pounded faster and faster, and his pupils shrank smaller and smaller.

But just as he raised his arm, waving it to press down, he saw Mo Wen suddenly turn to the side.

The whole world seemed to slow down. Mo Wen casually tossed the ball to the side with one hand, and with the other hand, he started from his forehead, stroking along the side part of his hair backward. Then, he twisted his body, elegantly and perfectly avoiding Bodog's tackle, while revealing an unintentional smile to the camera set up at the baseline.

Bodog was still staggering and trying to regain his balance when he suddenly lost his target, while Tyson behind him had already jumped like a helicopter, raising the ball with both hands and slamming it into the basket.

Click.

Reporters on the sidelines promptly pressed the shutter.

Mo Wen casually fixing his hair, Bodog stumbles and falls, and Tyson leaps high to dunk in the background—a scene resembling a movie poster is born.

"You fucking coward, don't you dare come by yourself?!"

Bodog, not understanding what had just happened, assumed that Mo Wen had chickened out at the last moment.

If you're so capable, then face me head-on and don't pass the ball!

"All three of our baskets were dunks. Even if you put Jajiba under the basket, it wouldn't be this soft, right?" Tyson Chandler mocked.

"Fuck you, you idiot who only knows how to pick up bargains, I'll absolutely crush you one-on-one!" Bodog, who was being mocked, immediately switched his target.

In the Bobcats' possession, Bodog was directed to pull Chandler out of the paint, and Okafor got a chance to receive the ball in the low post and score one-on-one, showing off his footwork, but his final shot was too short.

Mo Wen, positioned in the corner, seized the opportunity to grab the rebound, and the SuperSonics immediately launched a counterattack.

Guy's charge was thwarted by Gerald, and the Bobcats breathed a sigh of relief.

The basketball spun around and was passed back to Mo Wen outside the three-point line.

Gerrard, who had been repeatedly outmaneuvered, kept his center of gravity low. He had just received a high salary in the offseason, and in his simple values, he had to perform well.

Mo Wen's expression was strange. "Dude, with your legs spread so wide, it's hard for me not to cum."

Taking a half-step back and raising his hand, Mo Wen coldly judged Gerald's mistake in Gerald's terrified eyes.

Swish!
Sam Vincent finally couldn't help but call a timeout, while Danzi, who was watching from the box, looked rather grim.

What kind of rubbish was that opening sequence?!
Ten minutes later...

What the hell was that first quarter all about?!
Half an hour later...

What the hell was that first half like?! What the hell was that crap they were playing?!
Five minutes into the third quarter, Jordan, seeing the 25-point deficit, was furious and wiped his desktop with a single click.

In fact, the Bobcats designed a number of inside tactics based on the Warriors' victory in the previous game.

But Bodog simply couldn't achieve any results.

Yao Ming had the skill, the build, and the weight to face Tyson Chandler, but Bogdanovic was relatively mediocre in all aspects. He was a player in an era where centers were declining, but he was not qualified to be a striker.

Okafor, on the other hand, is a pure team player. Even though he has a physical advantage over Millsap, he found that Millsap was not so easy to handle, so he played at his usual pace.

As for the Bobcats' outside shooting, their strength is decent, but when their shooting touch is off, they simply can't match the efficiency of the SuperSonics' twin stars.

On the sidelines, Sam Vincent was conflicted. He felt it was time to surrender with dignity, but if he surrendered now, given how much Jordan valued this game, he would probably be bombarded with more spittle than face wash foam.

It's even possible that the countdown to the end of get out of class has begun.

On the field, Bodog patted his cheeks, making a splashing sound.

Sweat dripped into his eyes, making his nose sting.

In less than three quarters, the basket he was guarding had been dunked on countless times, mostly by Mo Wen repeatedly tricking him into leaving the basket, and then watching helplessly as the back door fell.

From anger to helplessness, the only thing that comforted him was that he was dunked on at the beginning of the game.

The sound of dribbling drew closer, and Bodog still chose to go out to meet it. Even if he didn't go out, Mo Wen could still score with a floater. If he went out, at least there was a sliver of hope to block it back.

You softie, who are you going to pass it to this time?
No, he jumped up!
He has the ball!
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! I'm here!

Bodog was so excited that he forgot how to engage his leg muscles to jump.

In plain terms, he's tired.

At that moment, Mo Wen, who had accelerated to full speed, had already flown in front of him.

Mo Wen didn't like anyone being his equal, so he pressed down on his shoulder slightly, using the momentum to propel himself up a little further.

She wasn't tall, so I could just sit on his shoulders.

Bogut's slight tilting due to a loss of balance is insignificant.

The hands of the clock are ticking.

BOOM!

"God, what happened! What did I just see! Another death trap? Mo is almost riding on Andrew Bogut's head, he's almost riding on Andrew's head, he's just a hair's breadth away from flying over the 7-foot-tall Bogut!!"

"Our three-point king dunked over the center! My god, is it April Fool's Day?! Mo, look what you've done!"

"I really can't believe it. Mo just went straight for it, head-on, skipping Andrei, and slammed the ball in so simply, directly, and cruelly. Vince, is that you? Take off your mask, I know it's you!"

The commentator on the sidelines watched the replay being urgently retrieved above, his voice sharp and high-pitched.

The home fans, without exception, covered their heads.

Before the game, Bogut said that Mo Wen was not the best player in the league, but he actually had a market in Charlotte. Charlotte is only 140 miles away from North Carolina, and they are natural fans of Jordan.

They have eaten well.

Not to mention they've seen Jordan in college, they've seen Carter in college.

Unfortunately, neither the Flying Prince nor the demigods have ever performed like this.

This guy might actually be better than Mike?
Jordan, sitting in the private room, stared blankly at the scene playing on repeat, somewhat lost in thought.

He didn't know what he was feeling right now.

Those Australian idiots! They're so big, and they even made some tough talk before the game, how could they let Mo Wen score against them like that?!

By using his shoulder to gain leverage, Mo Wen's move was definitely a foul!

Isn't this guy supposed to be a floor-style player? Which of these two is acting against me?

To be fair, the Bobcats' players are quite kind.

They all stood there, stunned, letting Bodog lie on the ground and rest.

The replay was played twice, and the pain in his back pulled Bodogt's consciousness out of the chaos.

What just happened?
He tried hard to recall, but his consciousness seemed to be protecting itself, preventing him from remembering anything.

But when Okafor pulled him up and he saw the replay on the big screen above, he was almost knocked down again.

He was...

He's not clean anymore!
He's going to kill Mo Wen!
A deep sense of humiliation enveloped him. Without even thinking about it, he realized that because of this one shot, he would become an object of ridicule for everyone, just like Frederic Weiss (the French giant Carter dunked on at the Olympics).

Shaking off his teammates' comforting arms, his 2.10-meter height allowed him to quickly pinpoint Mo Wen's location.

Then, he unleashed all his strength—

charge!

Today, only one of him and Mo Wen can leave this stadium!
By the time the Bobcats' players and referees realized what was happening, it was too late to stop them.

Fortunately, Mo Wen had teammates celebrating with him.

Tyson and Guy both wanted to make a move, but Mo Wen stopped them, one in each arm.

At this moment, Mo Wen also thought about many things, such as... where to go on holiday, what to eat, and what shows to watch.

In the blink of an eye, Bodog pounced on the enemy like a strange creature, baring its fangs and claws.

Mo Wen was somewhat unhappy that his thoughts had been interrupted.

He dodged the punch that was thrown at him, turned his body to the side and delivered a standard left front kick.

Where did it come from...?

There's one on the side of the road!

(End of this chapter)