Chapter 63: The Fickle Man
The scrimmage between the Rookie Team and the Veteran Team became a complete one-sided rout after Pau Gasol stormed off the court in a huff. Many people on the court later recalled it as the “most merciless” intra-team game they had ever seen.
54 to 28
The most glaring disparity undoubtedly came from the direct matchup between Xu Ling and Rudy Gay.
Gay shot 4 for 18 from the field, barely managing 11 points and 8 rebounds; while Xu Ling went 12 for 16, efficiently putting up 28 points, 8 rebounds, and 6 assists. When their stats were lined up side by side, the former looked like a complete loser.
When the final whistle blew, Gay stood there stunned, his face ashen. Xu Ling casually tossed the ball aside and walked toward him with composed steps, a faint mocking smile on his face, and said, “What’s wrong, not even willing to say ‘good game’ to the guy who thoroughly beat you?”
Gay jerked his head up, his eyes showing no trace of defeat, only anger and resentment from the humiliation.
“Respect? You think you’ve won something?” Gay hysterically raised his voice, “A team scrimmage where no one was even trying? If Pau hadn’t inexplicably lost his temper and left the game, if the coaching staff hadn’t set up this garbage lineup”
As Gay spoke, he wildly pointed his finger at his teammates and Gasol’s empty seat, trying to blame the failure on everyone except himself.
Xu Ling wasn’t provoked by him; instead, he nodded lightly and interrupted, “You’re right, Rudy. The lineups for both sides are indeed unfair. Who told us to have the NBA Draft’s Third Pick, Second Pick, and the NCAA National Champion team’s captain on our side, while yours”
At this point, Xu Ling deliberately paused. He didn’t know what had come over him to make him so cutting—was it him who had changed, or had this world changed him? But he instinctively knew he had to overpower Gay. So he delivered the most hurtful words.
“Only has a moron who went 4 for 18 dragging everyone down like a virus.”
The words stabbed into Gay’s heart like an ice pick, instantly filling him with immense humiliation, his face flushing red.
“You damn”
“Get some good rest,” Xu Ling mocked him, “Score a few more baskets next time.”
Gay was driven to rage by Xu Ling’s words but couldn’t refute them. He looked toward the others, but no one was on his side anymore, not even Kyle Lowry, who had seemed like his ironclad brother during the scrimmage.
Lowry had already quietly distanced himself from him.
He was isolated.
In fury, Gay turned and walked off the court.
Xu Ling didn’t look at him and instead asked Hakim Warrick from the Veteran Team on his own: “After today’s training ends, it’s on me—do you guys know any good restaurants in Memphis?”
Thus, the suffocating, cold, and awkward atmosphere eased a bit. Warrick immediately replied, “That has to be the ‘Lobster House’ on Beale Street.”
No one cared about Gay, no one asked about other matters—they all knew that accepting Xu Ling’s invitation meant choosing sides between him and Gay.
But that really wasn’t a difficult choice.
Gay was the Eighth Pick and had indeed once been seen by management as the core of the rebuild, but his rookie season performance was mediocre. Though called Little McGrady, with a physique and shooting touch somewhat similar to Tracy McGrady’s, McGrady had started his career with the Raptors on defense. Only after moving to the Magic, coinciding with Hill missing season after season due to injuries, did he have to shoulder the offensive load, thereby unlocking his potential.
But Gay? His development path was completely the opposite. Like McGrady, he was questioned by scouts for his professionalism, but after entering the NBA, he neglected defense and obsessed over offense all day. His fundamentals were rough; he was just an inefficient scorer, arrogant and with a nasty personality. Without someone like Xu Ling arriving, everyone would just put up with him usually, but now there was a better figure to follow—who would still kiss his ass?
That night, those who accepted Xu Ling’s invitation included Jarrius Jackson, Darko Milicic, Mike Miller, Eddie Jones, Hakim Warrick, Kyle Lowry, and a few others from the Rookie Team.
Someone like Pau Gasol, who was dead set on leaving the team, naturally had no mood to buddy up with Xu Ling, and Juan Navarro, who had gotten his footing on the Grizzlies through that connection, naturally wouldn’t come either.
Aside from the two Spaniards and Gay, everyone on the Grizzlies who could come did.
The people who accepted the invitation had varied attitudes.
A veteran like Jones, on the verge of retirement, naturally had no need to pick sides—he had known Xu Ling from the tryout, so he just came to catch up.
Milicic had no intention of picking sides either. He was a free agent signee, not there to be the boss. Before Gasol was traded, he couldn’t even crack the starting lineup, and he wasn’t obsessed with starting anyway. He’d already signed a 3-year, 21 million US dollar mid-level contract—enough money to live it up in a place like Memphis.
A nice guy like Mike Miller deliberately avoided the topic of picking sides and instead said, “Eli, I believe in your ability, but to make a bigger career in Memphis than PG（ big Gas）, your challenges are far from just Rudy.”
He even called him “Rudy,” showing he hadn’t given up on salvaging Gay yet.
But Xu Ling wasn’t the narrow-minded type; he wouldn’t push Miller away just because he still held out hope for Gay. He just asked, “What other challenges?”
“The real challenge—well, the competition in the Western Conference is fierce. Even the Eastern Conference Celtics assembled a Big Three, but us? The owner won’t even go over the salary cap because hardly anyone in Memphis cares about the Grizzlies.” Miller said, “But those who do care about the team are harsher than you imagine—look at PG and you’ll know.”
Jones chimed in from the side: “Mike, don’t scare the rookie.”
Xu Ling of course knew Memphis had all sorts of problems, but the city’s characteristics were fixed, hard for human effort to change. He believed one thing: if the Grizzlies became a winning team again, the fans would naturally come.
After all, in his previous life, he had witnessed two peak eras for the Grizzlies: the “Grit and Grind” era of the core four—Randolph, Marc Gasol, Mike Conley, and Tony Allen—and the era of Gun King Morant. A team with something to watch would never lack diehards, and once fans became diehards, they would follow long-term.
If the Pau Gasol era hadn’t built such a fan community, it could only mean the Grizzlies back then truly hadn’t left a deep enough mark on the city.
Still, Xu Ling was sincerely grateful to Mike Miller for his candid advice.
“Thanks, Mike,” he said earnestly, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The gathering that night had a harmonious atmosphere, with everyone chatting happily. Only Kyle Lowry seemed a bit silent—his presence itself was surprising. After all, just hours earlier in the scrimmage, he had been Gay’s number one supporter, practically dedicating every pass to Rudy. And now, he was proactively sitting at Xu Ling’s table, trying to get closer to this new core.
This scene naturally didn’t escape the eyes of everyone present. Xu Ling’s friend Roderick Craig kept up a polite facade on the surface, but inwardly he was sneering.
After eating and drinking their fill, everyone went their separate ways. Xu Ling and Roderick Craig were about to head home, but Lowry followed.
“Kyle, something up?”
Craig really disliked turncoats like Lowry, but he kept a fairly friendly face.
“I want to talk to Eli.” Lowry said directly.
Craig looked at Xu Ling, who just nodded. His view of Lowry was different from others’ because he knew Lowry would be an All-Star in the future and that the guy’s personality wasn’t bad. Times were tough, and right now he was just an end-of-first-round pick not valued by the team—how could he not play both sides?
So Lowry got in the car and found not only Xu Ling but also his bodyguard.
“Don’t mind him, Kyle. Say what you want to say.” Xu Ling’s attitude put Lowry slightly at ease.
“Eli,” Lowry said cautiously, “I just want you to know, I kept passing to Rudy today because I wanted a clear winner between you two—it’s good for our team.”
“I know.”
“I’m not Rudy’s guy; we’re not even friends. He has his own circle, and I—I don’t have any real friends on the team yet.”
Xu Ling was stunned: “I didn’t know that.”
So someone like Lowry, who could open up to DeRozan in his “I have depression” phase, was actually this lonely on the Grizzlies, without even one friend?
This was the misconception young guys like Xu Ling, fresh out of school, easily fell into. Boys who watched too many hot-blooded movies and sports anime always thought pro sports was that ideal world of brotherhood, united and unbreakable.
But reality? The OK duo who won three straight treated each other like enemies. Jordan and Pippen, who won two three-peats, didn’t even make a consoling call when the other lost a father. The Heat’s Big Three, who preached Brotherhood Basketball, disbanded in a way that showed all those brotherhood stories were bullshit. Wade took a pay cut, but James ghosted without a word, leaving a flowery letter about eternal brotherhood—eternal indeed, so eternal that the old man skipped Wade’s Hall of Fame induction to golf and drink wine. Where do you find such good brothers?
This was the naked reality of pro sports. Many athletes preferred living in a clearly stratified structure, like being in a bubble they could move anytime. Compared to building deep friendships with peers, this bubble was obviously more appealing. Most players had their own entourage—not just out of sentimentality, but because these people revolved around you: going where you wanted, eating what you wanted; walking into a club like a king. It was all taken for granted.
Sure, you’d occasionally go out with teammates, but pure egalitarianism? That never held much appeal. Besides, these players who saw themselves as “kings” each had their own agendas. And this “movable bubble” was always within reach, constantly telling you: you’re better than your teammates. But your teammates never admitted it—they always wanted to take what you had.
What a hateful bunch.
“I just want to tell you, I won’t stand against you.” That was Lowry’s intent. “I’ll do everything to help you.”
Even if Lowry hadn’t come to the dinner tonight or sought him out afterward for this talk, Xu Ling wouldn’t have thought extra of him.
Except for someone like Gay who was impossible to communicate with, he wouldn’t proactively antagonize anyone. But Lowry coming over to say this showed how much effort someone at the end of the rotation had to put in just to survive.
“I understand.” Xu Ling said without joy or sorrow, “In this league, ‘help’ itself is often the rarest form of sincerity. I accept your intent, Kyle.”
He didn’t say “I believe you” or show warm acceptance. His response was more like a measured acknowledgment based on reality.
“That’s it for tonight. See you on the training court.”
