Chapter 118: Enigmatic Figure
When the game ended, the Grizzlies’ bench was full of celebration. Games between playoff competitors are always crucial, especially for teams chasing from behind—this was of the utmost importance.
Once they lose, the gap in wins widens, and psychologically, it’s an even heavier blow.
But the Grizzlies won.
“We’ll make the playoffs, that’s why I’m here!”
Josh Howard, who scored 16 points for the game with that famous face, could overwhelm opponents with his aura without saying a word, let alone now that he was speaking loudly.
Meanwhile, Carmelo Anthony had to answer some questions that annoyed him.
“Melo, how do you feel about this game?”
The press conference opened with a mild opener, as the Denver local media asked first.
“It was a disappointing game,” Anthony said gravely into the microphone. “We missed a lot of opportunities. My touch came too late, but that doesn’t mean anything. The season is still long, we’re still in the playoff picture, and I believe we’ll have the last laugh.”
However, not all reporters were as mild as the local media; anyone who watched the game knew about the tension between Anthony and Xu Ling.
An out-of-town reporter lit the fuse first: “Carmelo, how do you evaluate Eli Xu’s performance tonight? From the matchup, he seemed to have the upper hand.”
You know, some flamboyant Japanese actresses scream like pigs being slaughtered when filming, but that’s 99% cultivated artistry for the new generation, though there are also naturally sensitive people.
Anthony was a rare exception; he wasn’t a sensitive person, or rather, he might be the type who doesn’t care if the team wins or loses as long as he’s happy.
But tonight, Xu Ling really got under his skin.
In this street-hardened tough guy’s mind, the court is just an extension of the street. If you show disrespect on the court, you’re my enemy. There’s never any “what happens on the court stays on the court.”
Now Anthony understood why someone as shrewd as LeBron James would clash so badly with Xu Ling.
As the latest victim, Anthony pegged Xu Ling as the source of all the chaos.
So, hearing this question that was basically dancing on his sensitive nerves, Mr. Sweet Melon looked angry—maybe calling him Bitter Melon now would be more fitting: “He had a good game, and I’ll give him the respect he deserves. You know, young guys always have some lucky nights; he made some shots tonight, that’s all. I’ve seen too many flash-in-the-pan guys in this league. In the first half, I was just helping the team in another way, drawing defense, creating opportunities for teammates. If I want to score, I can do it anytime. Tonight wasn’t ours, but next time we meet, the story will be completely different.”
No one mentioned the first half, no one brought up Anthony scoring zero in the first half tonight, no one extended it to anything else; the reporter just hinted he was at a disadvantage in the matchup, and he couldn’t take it.
That was the reporter’s cleverness.
Just a few words, and the player blows up in the heat of the moment.
“There’s a viewpoint that Eli is the young player second only to LeBron in the league today; how do you view that?”
This question could basically be understood as: Someone says Xu is better than you; please show your verbal charisma.
Anthony did react like he was triggered, sitting up straight and glaring at the reporter who baited him: “I don’t care how much people hype that rookie. In my eyes, he’s just a newbie who hasn’t proven himself. I’ve been in this league for years and seen too many so-called geniuses come and go. I respect his win tonight, but for the rest, let’s talk after he leads his team to a second-round playoff win!”
The press conference didn’t spiral out of control because no clueless reporter followed up with “But Mr. Melon, you haven’t made the second round either.”
Unlike Anthony, Iverson gave Xu Ling high praise.
“He reminds me of the old me,” Iverson said. “We’ve both been misunderstood, but I think Eli’s been misunderstood more, and sooner or later, everyone who misunderstood him will apologize.”
As for Xu Ling getting the better of Anthony in the matchup and their verbal spat?
“That’s normal; Melo had a tough night,” Iverson laughed. “I believe he’ll bounce back next time.”
Iverson showed senior poise—or it could be seen that way, since as the losing team’s MVP tonight, he could brush it off lightly; if he truly experienced Anthony’s night, he might hate it even more.
But since Iverson chose to let it go lightly, the media naturally focused on the feud between Xu Ling and Anthony.
When Xu Ling and head coach Mark Iavaroni entered the media room, the reporters’ cameras flashed instantly.
Most of the time, Iavaroni next to Xu Ling was invisible.
Usually, Memphis reporters would ask Iavaroni a few questions after Xu Ling answered a bunch, giving Xu Ling a breather.
Today was no different.
“Eli, congrats on a key victory! How do you evaluate your performance tonight, especially completely dominating Carmelo Anthony in the matchup?”
The question came from ESPN’s big reporter Mark Stein.
Xu Ling had no fondness for most ESPN reporters because of their ties to Nike, but Stein was a trustworthy famous reporter.
So Xu Ling’s answer was fairly formal: “Thanks, we got a team victory. Everyone contributed at the right moments. I was just executing the coach’s plans on the court. Like always, reading the game and making the right reads.”
There was nothing wrong with this answer; even if reporters tried their traditional cherry-picking, they had no angle.
Every sentence stood alone without flaw.
Next was David Winslow from 《Memphis Commercial Appeal》: “Eli, in the fourth quarter you blocked Allen Iverson and then hit a beautiful hesitation jump shot in his face; that play evoked his classic moment against Michael Jordan back in the day. What were you thinking?”
A reminiscent look crossed Xu Ling’s face, turning into a faint smile: “No time to think much in that moment. AI is a legend; it’s an honor to share the court with a player like him. That play… I was just trying to seize the chance to win the game.”
Tonight’s regicide evoked that Iverson quote.
He was misunderstood.
He wasn’t the villain the media portrayed.
Look, he deeply respected opponents and seniors, staying humble even in a blowout win.
Maybe the media was wrong.
Then the next question, from the 《New York Times》 reporter, fundamentally ended the light atmosphere: “Carmelo said in his interview that in the playoffs the outcome would be different, that you’re just ‘lucky’ and haven’t seen the true brutality of the NBA. Your response?”
The room went instantly quiet, all eyes on Xu Ling’s face. Coach Iavaroni glanced at him with some concern.
Xu Ling was a bit annoyed.
He really didn’t know why some people loved dragging on-court stuff off the court; when Anthony trash-talked him first, what did he expect?
He could only fire back, and with their big win ending tonight’s game, that page was turned—it was just one game, one of the stinking long 82 regular-season games; who would want to turn tonight’s farce into a soap opera?
Xu Ling showed no sign of being provoked, his gaze sweeping over the reporter: “I understand Carmelo’s feelings; losing an important home game tastes bad. But luck? Well, if he thinks our team’s effort all night—my every drive, Josh’s every key defense, Jason’s every clever assist, Darko and Hakim’s every inside battle—can be summed up as ‘luck,’ then I can only say that’s his most unique understanding of basketball.”
Someone in the room chuckled.
“And the so-called NBA brutality,” Xu Ling’s tone stayed calm. “Honestly, tonight’s game wasn’t brutal at all. True brutality was early season, making headlines every day, facing all kinds of doubts and distractions, yet still playing every game well. We’ve been through it, but we never complained.”
Xu Ling finally looked at the reporter seriously: “We won, they lost; that’s the whole fact. If Carmelo needs an excuse for his loss—he’s found it now.”
Then it was Iavaroni’s turn to answer questions, then back to Xu Ling. They stayed in the media room over half an hour; when they finally left, the still-eager reporters held voice recorders and wouldn’t disperse.
Iavaroni silently followed Xu Ling; a wordless rapport had formed between them. This head coach knew better than anyone that the young man before him was not only the absolute core on his tactical board but also the sturdiest security in his Memphis coaching career.
He desired to truly understand Xu Ling, to read the thinking behind every decision.
Yet, the longer he spent with Xu Ling, the more puzzled Iavaroni became—this young man was like a meticulously designed puzzle. On the court, confident to the point of arrogance, unyielding to any provocation; off the court, he’d never provoked any teammate except Gay, fully obeyed Kidd’s tactical instructions, willing to share isolation plays with Josh Howard, and even showed no contempt for insignificant bench players like Lowry.
The media painted him as a locker room bully, but aside from Rudy Gay, everyone who’s worked with Xu Ling will tell you: privately, he’s surprisingly approachable.
This extreme contrast often made Iavaroni wonder which was the real Xu Ling?
The cold killer who could embarrass opponents with a few words on the court, or the young man who laughed until he couldn’t stand from a teammate’s bad joke in the locker room?
Iavaroni hadn’t found the answer yet; lost in thought, they ran into Allen Iverson in the hallway, who had just finished his interview.
Iverson looked in a good mood, unaffected by the loss.
No surprise, since after losing this game, the Nuggets were still in the playoff sequence.
But their record was now tied with the Grizzlies; from now on, every game was crucial—lose one, win one, and rankings would shift dramatically.
“Eli, you really pissed off Melo tonight,” Iverson laughed. “So, any plans later? Wanna grab a drink?”
Though privately notorious, Iverson had some big-brother street cred outside.
Xu Ling politely declined: “Next time, AI; I have plans with others.”
“Alright, kid, you played well tonight,” Iverson said. “See you; hope we both make the playoffs.”
Xu Ling just said a simple goodbye; at the hallway’s end, Iverson’s friends were waiting, clearly not Nuggets-related, all surrounding him saying things like “Allen did his best, loss isn’t on him.”
Iverson enjoyed it; they left, everything per plan—tonight would cost a lot, pay many bills, but no matter, his salary neared 20 million US Dollars, endorsements another 10 million yearly; he had endless money, never falling to welfare because of these vampires.
“I heard he didn’t sleep last night,” Xu Ling suddenly said to Iavaroni. “Didn’t train either, yet became the Nuggets’ best player tonight; how is that possible?”
Iavaroni asked: “Jealous?”
“Just curious,” Xu Ling said.
“AI isn’t normal,” Iavaroni said. “He’s lived like this for years.”
Lived like this for years? If he hadn’t, maybe he could play better?
Xu Ling couldn’t make that judgment, because short superstar scorers like Iverson feasted on youth; once age hit, good times ended.
They reached the locker room entrance; Roderick Craig walked straight to Xu Ling with his mobile phone.
But Xu Ling absolutely didn’t want his peak to end so abruptly. It should be a foreseeable, gradual decline, like… like urinating.
Starts unstoppable, stable output midstream, sporadic at the end, finally shake hard and realize it’s all dripped out.
That was an acceptable end.
But Iverson might never know restraint.
Then Xu Ling’s iron bro Roderick Craig hurried over.
“Eli,” Craig said, “Yao Ming just called you.”
