Chapter 122: The Directionless Warrior

Once Lin Fei was substituted out, the entire Warriors team immediately appeared somewhat passive. They failed to score on three consecutive attacks, while the Mavericks successfully made two shots in a row.

On the bench, Lin Fei looked rather subdued. Perhaps his mind was preoccupied with Yao Ming’s retirement—after all, it was the retirement of his idol, and he himself felt a sense of uncertainty about his future.

He imagined himself, someone who had once been entirely focused on getting into university, with no real freedom to choose his own path. Later, when he stepped onto the basketball court, his passion ignited uncontrollably. Yet, despite the outward glory, he was merely following a predetermined path step by step, often unsure of what he was truly doing. Countless people knew him as the brightest star on the court, but few understood the emptiness within his heart. When he quieted down, he rarely spoke to anyone. Now, sitting on the bench, Lin Fei seemed deeply introspective.

The Mavericks then scored six points in a row, while the Warriors still struggled to find their rhythm. After Lin Fei’s departure from the court, the team’s play seemed somewhat disorganized.

Coach Nielsen observed the situation and knew it was unfavorable for his side. Yet, seeing Lin Fei’s demeanor, he sensed that the young star wasn’t ready to return to the court. Nielsen’s reputation as a renowned coach was largely due to his keen insight and ability to command during critical moments.

Suddenly, Lin Fei glanced up toward the arena ceiling, unsure of how to express himself.

He looked at Nielsen, then at the scoreboard. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way. Though his spirits were low, he mustn’t let it affect the team.

“Oh, coach, I think I’m ready to get back on the court now!” Lin Fei told Nielsen.

Nielsen looked at him in surprise.

“Great! Let’s call a timeout,” Nielsen said, immediately substituting Lin Fei back in.

Lin Fei stepped onto the court but still seemed unable to find his form. Holding the ball, he sprinted quickly to midcourt and took a rapid shot that missed. However, his movement on the court sent a chill through the Mavericks; his presence alone was a threat. The Mavericks responded by tightening their defense, double-teaming him relentlessly.

Dirk Nowitzki made another successful shot, gradually widening the gap between the teams.

Lin Fei felt out of sync whenever he had the ball. Every player experiences this: you can almost sense whether your shot will fall before it leaves your hands. Lin Fei decided to relinquish ball control to Curry, waiting instead for an open shot.

Running at a 45-degree angle near the three-point line, Lin Fei prepared to receive a pass as Curry orchestrated the offense near midcourt. With a swift drive, Curry created enough space to feed Lin Fei on the perimeter. Lin Fei took a step back and released the shot. Kidd, guarding him, didn’t take it seriously and barely contested.

But Lin Fei’s shot trajectory lacked its usual smoothness; the ball was a bit light on power, bouncing off the front rim. The Warriors secured the rebound once more—perhaps the only solace in this game was their continued strength in grabbing offensive boards. Ekpe Udoh pulled down the rebound and passed it back to Lin Fei, who remained fearless. This time, Lin Fei was a step closer to the basket. Yet, as he released the ball, his eyes betrayed his unease, shaking his head as the shot again missed.

By now, Lin Fei had taken 13 shots, making only three, tallying a mere seven points. Was this the same player who had once scored a record-breaking 64 points in the playoffs?

It felt like watching fire and water—worlds apart, utterly unbelievable.

Nielsen saw the grim scenario and realized perhaps Lin Fei shouldn’t be taking shots at all this game.

Even with the Mavericks easing their defense against him due to his poor shooting, Lin Fei’s attempts from outside still failed to find the mark.

There is a saying that no one on the court can stop Lin Fei’s advance except himself; only he could defeat his own spirit.

At his worst, Lin Fei was certainly losing to himself. After missing 13 shots in a row, he missed two more, pushing his dismal stats to 15 attempts with only three made—a shooting percentage of 20%, with a heartbreaking three-point record of just one success from eleven.

Nielsen, seeing the deteriorating situation, pulled Lin Fei off the court once again.

When Lin Fei left the court, his head hung low, weighed down by self-reproach and helplessness. Meanwhile, the Mavericks steadily extended their lead.

“It’s unbelievable,” the commentator remarked. “This is the same Warriors team that crushed the Mavericks just the day before yesterday. It’s hard to believe that this Lin Fei is the very same one who scored a historic 64 points yesterday. The Warriors’ performance now is entirely dependent on Lin Fei’s mood—when he’s on fire, even the likes of Michael Jordan can’t compare, but when he’s off, he doesn’t seem like an NBA-level player at all. Perhaps it’s due to the exhaustion from their previous game. Clearly, Lin Fei’s shooting and spirit are both low today.”

The Warriors didn’t return to the court after that, and the Mavericks easily sealed the game.

The situation was grim for Coach Nielsen and the Warriors. The score stood at 3-1. Lin Fei’s offensive prowess had previously impressed experts, who believed the Warriors would continue to surprise, as long as he was on the court. His attack was unstoppable and guaranteed victories. But this game exposed how terrifying the Warriors’ offense could be without Lin Fei’s firepower—utterly shattered.

Lin Fei’s spirits sank deeper. Rather than being solely affected by Yao Ming’s retirement, it seemed more a matter of his own temperament. Fortunately, the Warriors had three days to regroup. Their most urgent task was to reignite Lin Fei’s attacking instinct, helping him rediscover his strongest shooting touch.

Nielsen felt frustrated. The current predicament was partly his own doing—he had built the team’s strategy around Lin Fei’s relentless offense without considering what would happen if Lin Fei lost his shooting rhythm. Now, the Warriors’ offense was too dependent on him.

After returning home, Lin Fei quietly watched videos of Yao Ming’s games from 2002 to 2011, spanning nine years—the best plays, the All-Star moments.

Should he call his elder brother for advice?

Lost in thought, his phone suddenly rang. Excitement surged through him.