Chapter Fifty: A Debate That Will Never Cease

“Do you want to break the record? If you sink one more three-pointer, you’ll be the player with the most in history. If you keep holding the ball, you might even get 80 points. My boy, you’re truly great,” Nelson asked Lin Fei, his tone full of warmth. In the face of a record, anyone would be excited. For Nelson, witnessing such a miracle overshadowed even the victory itself.

In truth, it was a record forged by both the Warriors and Lin Fei. They were all eager to witness this moment of greatness.

“Oh! I’m exhausted! Really! I’m just too tired!” Lin Fei suddenly realized, after sprinting at full speed for forty minutes, that his body had all but collapsed in an instant. Besides, with the Warriors ahead by so much, he had no real desire to chase after that record any longer.

On the scoring leaderboard, Lin Fei once again reclaimed the top spot.

“Hey! Buddy, did you hear that kid scored sixty points yesterday?”

“Of course! He’s so fast! His shot is deadly accurate!”

These two phrases became the most common words on every street corner.

There were also some interesting stats circulating in the league, like player cost-effectiveness and such. Lin Fei’s name was now a constant presence on these lists. His annual salary had just reached the eight-figure mark, yet his true value far exceeded that number.

Now, the Warriors’ motto was, “We have the heart of a champion!” It sounded almost absurd—after all, this was a team that hadn’t even made the playoffs last season, with little change in their roster, and now they were dreaming of a championship. It seemed a bit like wishful thinking, but the Warriors’ fans never lost their champion’s heart.

The game ended without suspense. The Warriors easily defeated the Heat on the road, delivering a heavy blow. Even though the Heat’s Big Three put on a show—James with 36 points, 9 rebounds, and 8 assists; Wade with 30 points, 7 rebounds, and 10 assists; Bosh with 27 points and 13 rebounds—they still couldn’t match Lin Fei’s explosive 60 points and the Warriors’ relentless barrage. After the game, Lin Fei’s sixty points in front of Wade and James naturally became the talk of the town.

“What do you think of this sophomore?” a reporter asked James. “He’s the most unbelievable player I’ve ever seen. His shooting touch is just incredible—I can hardly believe it. I’ve never faced an opponent who gave me such a headache. As for today’s game, all I can say is their offense is outstanding. They could drop 150 points on any team in the league!”

“He’s the first player to casually put up over fifty points on me. I tried every way I could to defend him, but he’s just too fast. People call me the Flash, but he’s even faster than lightning. His offense is phenomenal, and sometimes his shot selection is just unreasonable. You never know when he’ll pull up to shoot. It’s been a long time since anyone in the league scored sixty—really, it’s unbelievable! I love a good challenge, but honestly, I don’t want to face another player like him,” said Wade.

To hear such words from two superstars was truly rare; these two were known for never admitting defeat in the league.

Meanwhile, the Warriors’ press conference was unusually lively.

“Oh! Ladies and gentlemen! Didn’t you all witness our Superman today—Mr. Lin Fei! Hahaha!” Keyns was so overjoyed, he seemed even happier than Lin Fei himself.

A reporter asked, “Lin, first of all, congratulations on hitting twelve threes and scoring sixty points in a single game. Can you share your thoughts?”

Lin Fei smiled, shrugged, and replied with ease, “I’m surprised myself, and of course, very happy. I didn’t even realize I had scored that many points until Keyns told me I’d made twelve threes and racked up sixty points. Oh! I’m really grateful to my coach and teammates—they believed in me and gave me so many opportunities to shoot. I’d be embarrassed to waste those chances, so I just kept shooting and shooting, just like in practice. Before I knew it, I had sixty points. Haha.” As he spoke, Lin Fei mimicked a few shooting motions, drawing hearty laughter from everyone. In truth, these were polite words—anyone watching could feel the sheer dominance of his scoring on the court.

“Coach Nelson, Lin Fei started today and dropped sixty points. Will you consider making him a regular starter?” a reporter asked.

“In my eyes, all my players are excellent, whether starters or reserves. I just want to win, and for that, I’ll keep adjusting our lineup as needed,” Nelson replied.

“Lin Fei, why did you choose not to go back in the game? You know, there were still eight minutes left. If you’d hit another three, scored a few more points, you could have made history. Do you feel any regret now?”

“Haha, actually, I told Coach myself that I didn’t need to go back in because I was just too tired, haha! I get tired too. Besides, with our team leading by so much, I trusted my teammates to make the most of their chances. Honestly, how many points I score isn’t that important. What matters is that we have the heart of a champion, not just chasing personal stats. If everyone just cared about their own points, we’d all be out of our minds,” he said with a laugh—another diplomatic answer, though of course, everyone hopes their own scoring will help the team win.

Amid the jubilation of victory, Lin Fei seemed to have developed a taste for such moments. More and more people began to admire this young man with limitless potential.

Sixty points—almost synonymous with superstars—now belonged to Lin Fei, yet the doubts persisted. Why?

Because he played so selfishly—even more so than the infamous “Lone Wolf” Marbury in his day.

Now, the Warriors had become the hottest topic among experts, who were watching a string of their statistics with keen interest, since they had already shattered so many records this season.

They were averaging 125 points per game, with 95 possessions per game, scoring 130 points per hundred possessions, grabbing 48 rebounds a night, averaging just 8 seconds per offensive possession, dishing out 22 assists, nailing 11 threes, generating 15 fast-break baskets, and earning 24 free throws a game. With such numbers, they were clearly the best offensive team in the league, laughing at their rivals behind a wall of statistics. But there was another side: they were allowing 118 points per game, surrendering 47 rebounds per game, and committing a league-high 12 turnovers per night—making them, without a doubt, the worst defensive team in the league.

Experts loved comparing the current Warriors to the Suns of 2004–2005. Back then, after Nash joined, the Suns’ run-and-gun style was also unstoppable: offense at its strongest, defense at its weakest, with a relentless emphasis on speed. But upon closer inspection, there were major differences. Those Suns had their own “Big Three”—Nash, Stoudemire, and Marion—while today’s Warriors struggled to find players of that caliber. The likes of Jobbs and Crowdsen fell short of Stoudemire and Marion. The Suns’ Hunter and today’s Eikes and Keyns were on a similar level. The Warriors’ breakout star Lin Fei, however, was vastly different from Nash. Nash was perhaps the best orchestrator in league history; with him, his team’s offense was orderly, methodical, and executed with precision. Lin Fei, on the other hand, was the opposite—his individual scoring was spectacular, but the team’s offense could easily devolve into chaos when he was on the court. As the saying goes, basketball is a five-man game. For a team, a Nash is worth much more than a Lin Fei—at least, so the experts believed.

If this trend continued, the Warriors would be one of the most exciting teams to watch in the playoffs, but to talk of a championship was still a pipe dream.

There were many who trotted out a host of statistics to argue that Lin Fei’s actual impact wasn’t nearly as great as the box score suggested—of course, these were the “Fei-haters.” When Lin Fei was on the floor, the team outscored opponents by 5 points; when Curry played, the Warriors outscored opponents by 8. Perhaps, for the team, Curry’s value was even higher.

Of course, controversy never ends—not even for the god of basketball, Jordan, whose career was forged in the fire of doubt on his way to the summit of the sport. Now, more and more people were willing to believe that this sixty-point young man would one day reach his own peak.