Chapter Fourteen: Finally, Honor Slips Away

With the contract renewal secured, the coach no longer had any reservations about using Lin Fei. Having firmly acquired this rising star, the most important task now was to nurture his talent.

The season was drawing to a close, but the Warriors had virtually no hope of making the playoffs. The loss to the Mavericks seemed to have struck a heavy blow, and there was another crucial factor—the current Nelson appeared completely out of sorts. He seemed uncertain about his former tactical system, unsure of how to set up the plays, and often, many players didn’t understand his intentions. Most people couldn’t comprehend it, but insiders could easily tell that Nelson was reconstructing his tactical approach. Though he had achieved many victories before, he was never able to advance far in the playoffs. So, he began to question the flaws in his own strategies. Now, he wanted to dismantle all his previous systems and theories, and build a new one based on the players he currently had. But such a process required sacrifices—sometimes even victory itself. Nelson himself wasn’t sure if his reevaluation would succeed, but he had no choice but to give it a try. In the league, few coaches dared to tear down their old tactics and start anew.

Lin Fei wasn’t in top form lately either; he was facing the problems common to many rookies: the rookie wall. The passion that fueled his early clutch performances seemed to have faded.

No one knew what would become of Nelson, but his players were fiercely supporting him, believing in him without reserve—including Lin Fei.

Fans and experts had debated for a long time about who should win Rookie of the Year: Lin Fei or Ridnour. And among Lin Fei, Terry, Richardson, and others, who should claim Sixth Man of the Year. Lin Fei’s late-season surge was dazzling, but the biggest issue was that he had played only about twenty games. What could those twenty games really prove? The experts and journalists kept their eyes on Lin Fei, but ultimately, the votes for Rookie of the Year would not go to him.

Nelson understood that Lin Fei’s limited playing time restricted his chances for those awards, but he refused to let go of hope. He would do everything possible to preserve Lin Fei’s opportunity for glory.

Too little playing time? Fine! No problem, I’ll give him thirty minutes a game. Limited shot opportunities? That’s fine too—it’s the end of the season, and now I’ll try building an offense centered on the backcourt, putting the ball in his hands and letting him shine. No coach had ever shown such favoritism to a rookie. Players like Iverson and James, former Rookies of the Year, became team cores as soon as they arrived, with everything revolving around them. But Lin Fei was different; no coach would risk their tactics on a player who hadn’t yet become the centerpiece. Such a move might draw heavy criticism, but Nelson smiled calmly, “Am I not already used to being doubted and criticized?”

Lin Fei noticed all of this. He had never received such guidance and care from a mentor. Facing the rookie wall, Lin Fei gritted his teeth and fought on the court—not just for the results, but for those who had invested so much in him.

As the team’s Sixth Man, Lin Fei wielded unlimited shooting rights. With playoff hopes gone, player development became the priority. Thus, Lin Fei grew. In the last seven games, he averaged thirty minutes on the court, contributing twenty-seven points and two assists per game, earning Western Conference Rookie of the Month for the final stretch. The title carried little weight; now, Lin Fei, his teammates, and friends all had their eyes on two things: Rookie of the Year and Sixth Man of the Year.

Ridnour, the eventual Rookie of the Year, faced heavy competition from Lin Fei and played even harder, boosting his averages. Although Lin Fei managed twenty-seven points per game by season’s end, he simply didn’t play enough games. In the selection by 120 journalists and commentators, Lin Fei trailed Ridnour by 100 points—a gap that was not even close. Despite Lin Fei’s repeated clutch moments and miraculous scoring runs, reality could not be changed. Ridnour’s acceptance speech was humble: “I’m honored, but I think many players deserve to stand on this stage. They are all excellent.” As he spoke, many eyes turned to Lin Fei.

A few days later, it was time for the Sixth Man award. Once again, it went to Terry of the Mavericks. He had won it before and was always happy to receive the recognition. Lin Fei’s scoring average was wild—over twenty points—but his team’s poor record and too few appearances doomed him to miss the award. In Terry’s speech, he said, “I’d like to share this honor with a few teammates. I’ll work even harder. Honestly, I think Lin should have won this award too—he’s amazing!”

The outcome could not be changed; Lin Fei was left empty-handed for every award—always just a little short. Many fans felt it was unfair, some even blamed Nelson. Yet Lin Fei himself believed he simply wasn’t deserving enough. He remained humble, a classic representative of Chinese culture, much like Yao Ming.

When Keynes chatted with Lin Fei, he said, “Hey, man, you’re incredible. If you’d been playing since the start of the season, you might have won MVP.”

Lin Fei laughed, not taking it to heart. “MVP is LeBron’s. I’m not that good. But next year, I want to win it—will you help me out? We need at least sixty wins.”

“Oh, man, you’re not asking me to help you steal it, are you? Ha! Stealing a ring would be easier. You know, a lot of players actually sell their championship rings. Many spend their whole lives chasing that ring, only to end up with nothing. Oops, I’m hungry! Why don’t you take me to Yao’s restaurant? I’m really into Chinese food lately. Yao’s restaurant is run by your compatriot, so you can treat me! You just signed a huge contract and didn’t buy a Lamborghini—should be enough to buy me dinner, right? Ha! Feed me well and I’ll help you pick out a Lamborghini.”

Lin Fei led Keynes straight to Yao’s restaurant.

Despite missing out on all the awards, there was not a trace of sadness on Lin Fei’s face. That was his nature—a calm heart shaped by basketball, the so-called “basketball life.” His old attitude was, “If I win, I’m lucky; if not, it’s fate.” Now, Lin Fei seemed even more at ease.