Chapter 69: Lord Eli
39 points 8 rebounds 8 assists
and buzzer-beater over the defending champion Spurs.
Xu Ling’s debut exploded the arena just as planned.
FedEx Forum began erupting in a fervor akin to religious worship. Even when West chose Xu Ling back then, those paying attention to college basketball had predicted that Xu Ling would change Memphis professional basketball.
However, for a small market like Memphis at its lowest point, they had no idea to what extent the arrival of a future superstar would change the team.
Those truly paying attention to college basketball recounted Xu Ling’s achievements at Texas Tech University over and over. This viral promotion initially backfired, with some fans mocking, “You talk as if that Chinese guy is as great as My Lord.”
That’s the origin of Xu Ling’s nickname. Grizzlies fans jokingly call him “Lord”（Lord）, or “My Lord”（My Lord）, and some even “Lord Eli” (Lord Eli). But before tonight, these nicknames were mostly teasing, memes, and mockery.
But after Xu Ling delivered such a debut and hit the buzzer-beater, as he rose from the pile of teammates, the arena fans chanted in unison: “LORD ELI! LORD ELI! LORD ELI!”
That playful teasing evaporated completely in that moment, replaced by near-divine worship, as if it would shatter the “Memphis Grizzlies” team name and re-engrave it with “Eli.”
Xu Ling looked somewhat at a loss.
His teammates around him cast excited and envious gazes as well.
How many people can conquer the home court fans in their debut?
Pau Gasol looked at Xu Ling with complex eyes. He had once predicted Xu Ling would retrace his own path. Now? He wasn’t so sure.
“My Lord.” Lowry said, like a devout follower, “Aren’t you going to say something to your believers?”
Xu Ling glanced at the TNT female reporter waiting not far away and replied: “The time for preaching hasn’t come yet. There’s still business to do.”
With that, he walked straight to the TNT interview area on the sidelines, while the fans’ cheers grew even more tumultuous, nearly lifting the arena roof.
Rudy Gay stood far away at the entrance of the player tunnel, his physique almost completely swallowed by the deep shadows. Without close inspection, it was hard to notice a person standing there.
He didn’t join the celebrating crowd. But when Xu Ling hit that game-winning three-pointer, he too involuntarily jumped up from his seat—only to quickly suppress his emotions and regain composure. While Spurs players showed despair and Grizzlies teammates rushed to pile on the No. 1 player in wild celebration, he just stood silently at the outermost edge of the cheering circle.
Then, Gay remembered his fatal choice: jumping the gun for a fast break at the last moment, only for Manu Ginobili to shrewdly grab the frontcourt rebound tipped out by Tim Duncan and easily hit the near-buzzer-beater shot.
If he hadn’t chosen to push early for the fast break then, would that rebound have fallen into his hands? Would the game have ended? Why? Why did he make that judgment?
He knew the answer.
He just wanted too badly to be the hero who sealed the victory.
Xu Ling’s three-pointer at least spared him from being pilloried by the media and fans like a war criminal after the game. He should have felt relieved, even happy.
But Gay clearly felt that everything he had once craved to compete with Xu Ling for—the spotlight’s focus, the team’s reliance, even the status of the team’s first option—had now completely fallen into the other’s hands. He was like a fish washed ashore by giant waves; even if it could flop around a couple times, what was the point?
Just last year, especially after Pau Gasol explicitly requested a trade, the team had poured nearly all its resources into developing him, treating him with the specifications of the next face of the franchise. Though his performance at the time hadn’t met expectations, over the just-passed summer, he had trained harder than anyone. He firmly believed he had made significant progress, enough to win it all back.
In the end, Gay could only stand in place, watching everyone—including the entire city that had once pinned hopes on him—become the most devout followers at that Chinese guy’s feet.
A mix of powerlessness, jealousy, and self-loathing suddenly gripped Gay.
Gay no longer looked at the boiling celebrating crowd on the court. He spun around abruptly, shoved aside the water station next to him, and stormed back into the player tunnel ahead of time without looking back, leaving all the noise and lights behind.
The locker room was filled with the clamor of players high-fiving and laughing loudly. Xu Ling was the last to walk in.
“Eli, what you did tonight is exactly what those guys in Detroit hoped I’d do back then.” Darko Milicic came forward, half sighing half teasing, “How does it feel to become the lord of Memphis?”
To be honest, as someone without religious belief, this title made Xu Ling feel subtly uncomfortable.
“Then why didn’t you do it back then?” Xu Ling asked with a smile, trying to steer the topic lighter, “Was it because Detroit’s nightclubs are more attractive than Beale Street in Memphis?”
“Hey! What are you saying, rookie!”
Mike Miller jumped in, raising his arm and shouting: “Listen up! There’s only one standard answer to this—fuck Larry Brown!”
The locker room immediately erupted in knowing laughter and agreement.
At this moment, as Xu Ling’s staunchest ally, or perhaps the most faithful believer of “My Lord,” Jarrius Jackson looked around and asked: “Where’s Rudy?”
Hearing this, Darko Milicic, who knew the inside story, walked a few steps to the shower area and raised his voice to shout inside: “Hey, Rudy! Don’t soak too long. If you ask me, you really should come out and thank Eli. You should know full well that if he hadn’t hit that buzzer-beater, whose name would be on every media headline tomorrow?”
Inside the shower, the water sound suddenly grew louder, the fierce spray hitting the floor becoming the only response.
Gay remained silent.
“Alright, Darko,” Xu Ling interrupted, “Don’t bother him.”
Milicic immediately turned around, faced Xu Ling, and exaggeratedly saluted, replying solemnly: “As you command, My Lord.”
Xu Ling didn’t like Gay. From the first day of training camp, they were destined not to interact much, like parallel lines that never intersect.
But he took the LOGO man’s words to heart for now.
He disguised it well—and was increasingly aware of the necessity of that disguise.
Stabilize Gay’s mentality, at least get him to perform normally most of the time. Only then could he potentially be traded for a good price in the future.
So when necessary, Xu Ling wouldn’t kick a man when he was down; he’d even lend a hand to pull him up.
This was the play someone forced to play the magnanimous role in basketball hell had to keep performing. Hope all understand.
But how long could this play last? When things started going wrong?
Soon, Marc Iavaroni walked in with the assistant coaches.
Iavaroni’s excitement hadn’t faded yet: “Great job! Guys! This is a great victory! I’m proud of you! Especially the execution and resilience in the final moments. Enjoy tonight! But tomorrow morning’s video analysis session, we’re going to thoroughly review the issues from the second quarter!”
Everyone cheered in agreement.
Iavaroni looked at Xu Ling and smiled: “Eli, I’m still going with you to the press conference.”
“Can I ask why?” Xu Ling raised an eyebrow.
“Because as long as you’re there, the reporters won’t hound me endlessly.” Iavaroni admitted honestly.
This reason was so real it couldn’t be refuted.
Xu Ling and Iavaroni had just approached the media room when the noisy din penetrated the door. The moment they pushed it open, blinding flashes assaulted them, lighting the hallway like daylight. The room was packed with reporters, cameras layered everywhere.
TNT, ESPN, Associated Press, 《The New York Times》, 《Sports Illustrated》, Memphis’s most influential local magazine 《Blues Week》, and a bunch of overseas media.
Almost every notable media outlet was there.
Amid the surging crowd, even a few famous faces usually seen only on national broadcasts were visible. They weren’t waiting for Iavaroni—all eyes were intensely fixed on Xu Ling.
Xu Ling knew the media room work might be harder than the game.
He took a deep breath, sat down front, and smiled while pointing to the ESPN reporter.
“Eli, you had 39 points 8 rebounds 8 assists tonight. What grade do you give your debut?”
Xu Ling smiled: “Grading? I’m not the referee. But if 10 is full marks… I’d probably give tonight’s rim a 10. It was pretty friendly to me.”
This was a good start. My Lord was humorous.
Then the Times reporter naturally brought up the sneaker brand controversy: “Eli, do you think tonight’s performance responds to those questioning Adidas giving you a 4-year $60 million endorsement contract?”
Xu Ling replied without hesitation: “Questioners just need to talk empty talk, but I have too much to consider. Adidas believes in my future, not just this one game. As for tonight… I think at least these 60 million don’t look so much like paper money anymore, right?”
Then local media asked: “How was the final play designed?”
Naturally, Xu Ling answered for Iavaroni too.
“To be honest, the best play is to give the ball to the guy most deserving of the win, and tonight that guy was me.”
Hearing this, if not for the occasion, that Memphis reporter would have wanted to rush out of the media room and join the bunch outside FedEx Forum chanting “Lord Eli” like lunatics.
Of course, the most interesting answer went to the most interesting question.
Grant Wal from 《Sports Illustrated》—an old acquaintance of Xu Ling’s—brought up that nearly forgotten name: “Eli, how do you evaluate Rudy Gay’s decision to push early for the fast break at the end?”
There were always some things in this world Xu Ling found hard to understand.
Like, before his time travel, Setsuko Kanna’s explosion in popularity, and now tonight, Gay’s baffling choice.
How did all this happen?
“I don’t know, and I have nothing to say.” Xu Ling smiled back. “When the sun rises tomorrow, I’ll have forgotten about it.”
The media room immediately erupted in knowing laughter.
