Chapter 91: Kobe’s Verdict
Jerry West sat like a stone statue in the VIP box, indifferent to the roaring sea outside the window. A glass of whiskey sat before him, the amber liquid motionless under the light, mirroring his current mood—a deathly calm hanging on the edge of a cliff.
He should have stayed home.
When the Grizzlies beat the Lakers on Christmas Eve, climbing to sixth in the league with the team situation looking great, he was instead mired in trouble. The trade with the Lakers that had been agreed upon fell through unexpectedly due to Bynum’s serious injury, leaving him with a deep sense of exhaustion. He needed to get away from this noisy arena and digest the frustration of his plans being disrupted alone.
But he couldn’t truly find peace.
Every time he thought he could calm down, an indescribable, chilling unease would engulf him, wrapping around his heart like vines, dragging him from home to FedEx Forum.
He told himself he was just there to watch. To see how the young player he had selected, whom he had high hopes for, and who had to bear everything due to a series of decisions by him and the young man himself, was facing off against Chris Paul.
The game was as intense as he had anticipated. Chris Paul’s mature savvy was astonishing, while Xu Ling’s performance was a dazzling blaze of burning life. Every driving with the ball, every strong rise after muscle collisions, every response three-pointer hit when the score was about to be pulled away, made the arena even more boiling.
West had seen it clearly.
Mark Iavaroni’s ridiculous, long-bankrupt SSOL system had ultimately simplified into the world’s simplest and most brutal tactic—give the ball to Eli.
And Xu Ling, this proud-to-the-point-of-obsession young man, was actually trying to shoulder it all with his not-yet-fully-mature shoulders.
This was the source of West’s unease.
He believed in Xu Ling, but how could a young man not yet 20 years old play 38 minutes per game as the team’s veteran leader? The Grizzlies weren’t a weak team; they wanted to make the playoffs, which meant Xu Ling didn’t even have the chance to hone himself in low-intensity games like Kevin Durant.
Every minute he played was necessary.
West often privately asked Iavaroni to reduce Xu Ling’s playing time, but always got responses of principled agreement without guarantees.
The reasoning was simple: Xu Ling was Mark Iavaroni’s guarantee for the head coach position.
This infuriated West.
38 minutes per game for a rookie was sheer madness. Every time he watched a Grizzlies game live, that unease would overwhelm him, and tonight, that feeling began to envelop him. His thoughts started slipping uncontrollably into the darkest abyss. He recalled Bill Walton, that prodigiously talented center whose career, which should have been even more brilliant, was destroyed by endless injuries and overuse. He recalled the excruciating injuries from his own playing days, the fear each time he hit the floor that his career might end right there, gnawing at his heart.
Then, West saw that shortly after the start of the second half, Paul switched to individual offense mode, Xu Ling responded in time, and then—Xu Ling used a crossover dribble to blow past Peterson, driving straight to the basket. That moment’s speed and decisiveness made even West hold his breath slightly.
Boom!
The massive clang of the rim echoed faintly through the glass. The fans’ cheers instantly peaked.
But at the peak of the cheers, West saw Xu Ling at the moment of landing, his body freezing unnaturally, twisted-like, and the flash of pain on his face.
When the team doctor and all the players surrounded him, West spun around abruptly, practically shoving open the box door, ignoring the stunned gazes behind him, and rushed quickly toward the tunnel to the court. His steps were fast and urgent, even a bit stumbling. The usual calm, elegant, strategic LOGO Man was gone; now he was just an old man shrouded in fear.
He rushed to the player tunnel entrance and saw the team doctor Azar looking up, seemingly saying something to the coaching staff, while Xu Ling tried to stand up and moved his ankle a bit.
Then, he learned the specifics from the crowd’s words.
Cramp?
Just a cramp?!
An almost debilitating sense of relief instantly released West from the edge of collapse, making his legs go a bit weak. But it was immediately replaced by a stronger, retrospective fury.
West strode onto the court, not even caring that it was a live game with countless cameras on him. His face was ashen, his eyes coldly terrifying, directly ignoring head coach Iavaroni, and walking to Xu Ling and the team doctor.
“How do you feel?”
West suppressed his emotions and asked in a low voice.
“I’m fine, Jerry, just a cramp.” Xu Ling tried flexing his leg; though the muscles were still a bit sore and stiff, it was no big deal. “A stretch and I’ll be good. I can still play.”
“Go to the hospital.” West cut him off bluntly, with no room for discussion. “Right now, get a full checkup! MRI, ultrasound, every test possible—do them all! I want to make sure there’s no issue!”
Xu Ling clearly hadn’t expected West’s reaction to be so intense, but he didn’t want to sit out the game: “I really have no problem, and—”
“Shut up!” West’s suppressed anger finally erupted, thundering on the sideline, startling not only Xu Ling and the nearby players but also the referees and opponents. “You know nothing about injuries, nothing about taking care of yourself—you don’t know shit! Do you know what a torn Achilles feels like before it snaps? Do you know a stress fracture in the early stages might not even hurt?! You know nothing!”
“To you this might just be a cramp, but to this team, you’re the future! You’re a precious, fragile asset! I can’t and won’t allow anyone, including you, to risk it! Let alone for this damn regular season game?!”
This wasn’t the first time Xu Ling had seen West so unhinged.
He could roughly understand West’s stress response born of fear.
And clearly, though this old man usually didn’t meddle in coaching and player affairs, if he wanted to, few on the Grizzlies could defy his will.
Mark Iavaroni had already shut up; Xu Ling couldn’t even sense his presence.
After locking eyes with West for a few seconds, Xu Ling glanced at the bewildered faces of his teammates and coaches around, then slowly nodded and said to the team doctor: “Alright, Doctor Azar, let’s go.”
Without Xu Ling, a Grizzlies victory was naturally out of reach.
And most fans had come for Xu Ling.
As soon as Xu Ling left the game, fans felt heartbroken and lost faith in the match.
Xu Ling and the team doctor went to the locker room, first showered, changed clothes, and then headed to the hospital together.
They did a full battery of tests, even more comprehensive than West had said, and the final result was “exercise-associated muscle cramp,” commonly known as a cramp.
“Doctor, don’t you think Jerry overreacted?”
By the time all the test results came out, the Grizzlies-Hornets game had ended. As expected, the Grizzlies without Xu Ling collapsed in the fourth quarter, ultimately losing to the Hornets by 13 points.
Recalling West’s earlier reaction, Xu Ling asked casually.
“He just cares about you,” team doctor Frederick Azar said. “He’s seen too many young players get trapped by injuries from not knowing how to take care of themselves. He doesn’t want you to be the next one.”
Xu Ling thought he was pretty durable; before transmigrating, let alone cramps, even minor sprains weren’t enough to bench him. After transmigrating, though he had a new body, he rarely got hurt.
Still, West meant well, so Xu Ling could only grumble a bit.
Then, Xu Ling chatted with the team doctor about playing time.
His playing time was indeed high, very demanding for a rookie, but there were players in the league with even more minutes—how did they handle it?
“Besides Allen Iverson, most players with high minutes either know how to manage their energy or have a personal trainer making diets and recovery plans,” Azar said with a smile. “If you had a trainer, he definitely wouldn’t let you arbitrarily increase your training load.”
Trainer… That reminded Xu Ling.
He’d heard James spent millions of dollars a year maintaining his physique. Considering that guy made All-NBA at 40, that anti-aging ability was unmatched not just in basketball history but in any contact sport—no one else lasted that long.
There had to be either some trick or some method; something was behind it.
But it showed the importance of trainers and post-game recovery.
The day after Xu Ling’s cramp, an emergency meeting limited to core management was held behind the closed doors of the Grizzlies president’s office. No heated arguments leaked out, but the sole post-meeting info was clear.
Jerry West unequivocally labeled Xu Ling’s over-fatigue as a serious management failure. He forcefully demanded immediate action—whether adjusting rotations or accelerating trades to bolster the roster—to lighten Xu Ling’s load right away, elevating it to the strategic level of protecting core assets.
From that day on, trade rumors about Paul Gasol and Rudy Gay multiplied.
Gasol was still All-Star level; he was the Grizzlies’ most important chip.
But Gay was problematic.
Since Xu Ling’s fallout with him, the Grizzlies had been benching Gay—no games, no practice sessions. Gay trained alone on the side, with no one interacting with him. Except for NBA executives, the outside world had almost forgotten him.
In terms of value, Gay was still a decent asset, but now everyone knew he’d fallen out with the team and hadn’t played in a while. No one knew his condition, so no suitable offers would come.
West pondered whether it was necessary to put Gay back in the lineup for a few games to let teams inspect the goods.
But would Xu Ling agree?
Clearly Xu Ling didn’t want to share the court with Gay as teammates anymore, so the premise didn’t exist.
But many things are interconnected.
From the moment Xu Ling and Gay blew up, he was destined for premature intense scrutiny from the outside. The media watched him closely, ready to write him off at any mistake, and internally the team could only build around him, so he shouldered the big responsibilities as a rookie.
Hence the 38 minutes per game.
The accumulated fatigue from long hours put him in a delicate physical state.
The cramp against the Hornets was a warning.
Over the next half-month, the Grizzlies faced strong opponents in a row: three straight losses to the Rockets and Spurs, dropping out of the top eight, then two straight wins over the Pacers and Heat, clawing back into the top eight.
2007 quietly passed, and 2008 arrived.
The Grizzlies faced the SuperSonics again; Xu Ling dropped 35 points on Durant, giving the team a three-game win streak, only for the streaky Warriors—who could beat anyone on a hot night—to snap it, followed by the second matchup with the Lakers.
Last time the teams met, the Lakers were fourth in the West, Grizzlies eighth. Now, the Grizzlies held steady at Western Conference Seventh, while the Lakers had plummeted since then, now tenth in the West with a 20-19 record.
Kobe’s frustration grew daily.
The Lakers’ situation seemed mired in quicksand, with no turnaround in sight this season. They lacked trade chips, and how much longer could Kobe’s waning patience hold?
This highly anticipated rematch didn’t unfold as the outside world expected.
Xu Ling suffered an unexpected ankle sprain in pre-game training, diagnosed as a grade 1 sprain, forcing him to sit out. Per the team doctor’s assessment, he needed at least ten days off before re-evaluation.
And this was precisely the inspection moment the Grizzlies management had been waiting for.
Jerry West first called Xu Ling, informing him of the team plan to play Rudy Gay to showcase his condition to other teams. Xu Ling had no objections. Thus, Gay returned to the lineup after more than a month, putting on armor and going to battle.
This arrangement quickly sparked all sorts of outside speculation.
“Have Eli and Gay made up?”
“Grizzlies locker room issues resolved?”
“Are they really okay now?”
However, some sharp-eyed fans saw through it instantly: “This is just the Grizzlies showing off merchandise! They just want to prove Rudy Gay can still play!”
Despite missing Xu Ling, the game was unexpectedly intense. The shorthanded Grizzlies showed amazing resilience, relying on outside shooters and Gasol’s playmaking to battle the Lakers to the final seconds.
With 11.1 seconds left, it was tied 92-92.
The Lakers had the last possession. Kobe took the ball at the top of the arc, facing Mike Miller’s tight defense. After a series of shakes, he forced his way into position and rose resolutely against the closing defense from 21 feet out—a signature, extremely difficult fadeaway jumper.
The basketball swished through the net like precision-guided!
94-92! Leaving the Grizzlies just 1.7 seconds.
Rudy Gay then took the baseline inbound for a buzzer-beater attempt and missed, ending the game.
All that remained was the roar of cheers at Staples Center, as if this game could change anything.
But there was no joy on Kobe’s face. Only he knew that this Grizzlies team without Xu Ling was far from the resilient squad before Christmas—and they had been tangled with such opponents until the last second?
He walked to the sideline with a stone-cold face; no one could believe from that icy expression that he had just hit a game-winner.
“Kobe, this was undoubtedly an exciting revenge win! How do you feel right now?” A sideline reporter eagerly thrust the microphone at him.
Kobe glanced at the camera, his voice tinged with a sense of emptiness: “Without Eli Xu, it’s not a real victory. Let alone revenge.”
