Of course.
A hotel room number alone would be blatant enough, but scrawled in even bigger letters were four extra words: basketball exchange.
What the hell—'basketball exchange'?!
What decent guy checks into a hotel room with a woman in the dead of night to 'exchange basketball pointers'?!
Still… if it involves balls, I guess there's nothing technically wrong with it!!!
Su Yan may or may not go, but a fan-girl who looks this easy on the eyes probably won't have to wait long before someone knocks.
If Su Yan never shows… could—gulp—things get scary if you think too hard about it?!
At the broadcast table…
'COME ON!'
ESPN commentator and former Rocket Jon Barry laughed. 'It's hard to believe that under a face prettier than most actors, Su Yan hides the heart of an ice-cold assassin!'
'Haha~'
Fellow commentator Mark Jackson chuckled and nodded. 'Eight threes in five minutes, a step-back dagger over the Thunder's Big Three—'
That really is assassin stuff.
And just like that, Su Yan has bumped last year's No. 6 pick Danilo Gallinari into the starting Small Forward slot.
It looks abrupt…
…yet the more you think about it, the more sense it makes.
'He's starting already?'
Jon Barry hadn't studied tonight's line-ups; he couldn't help exclaiming, 'Unbelievable. I thought it might be a flash in the pan. After all, Su Yan is just an Undrafted Player the Knicks signed for his looks. Since they're starting him, the Knicks must have their reasons. No need to overthink—let's just hope tonight we get another feast of Su Yan's sharpshooting!'
On the Pistons' side, Head Coach John Kuester had done his homework; he'd heard about Su Yan's last explosion.
He was somewhat skeptical…
…but he wouldn't ignore it. He'd watch for a spell, and if the kid kept hitting, he'd treat him seriously.
Back on the Knicks' side…
Tracy McGrady, warming up, noticed the busty blonde's banner.
He strolled up to Su Yan and teased, 'Those curves, those legs—I could enjoy those for a year, and she's throwing herself at you. Yan, I envy that face of yours. So… feel like braving the dragon's lair after the game? Might be full of surprises.'
'Boring.'
Su Yan waved it off, uninterested. 'Anyone bold enough to post her room number must have a chaotic private life. I don't want trouble; the world's too big—I'd like to see more of it.'
'Haha!'
McGrady laughed wordlessly.
A bombshell like that, hotel room already booked—so what if she's a little dirty?
First he rejects a stunning 15-year-old little princess, now he scoffs at a sexy woman begging for it.
This guy's immune to everything…
McGrady almost wondered if Su Yan swung the other way.
A short while later…
With the arena buzzing, the real game began.
The starters took the floor.
New York Knicks starters: PG Chris Duhon, SG Tracy McGrady, SF Su Yan, PF Al Harrington, C David Lee.
Worth noting: the usual starting SG should be Wilson Chandler—15.4 pts, 5.3 reb, 2.2 ast, 0.8 blk, 0.8 stl per game, a two-way swingman.
However…
McGrady's star power is box-office.
He had to start to keep seats filled and revenue rolling.
Business league—everyone gets it.
Detroit Pistons starters: PG Rodney Stuckey, SG Richard Hamilton, SF Tayshaun Prince, PF Jonas Jerebko, C Ben Wallace.
'Jump ball!'
David Lee vs Ben Wallace.
Though Lee grabs 11.6 boards a night, he's only 6-9.
High hoops IQ…
…but he's no tip-off threat.
Result: Ben Wallace, even smaller (listed 6-9, probably barely 6-7) and now older…
…still lost the tip—David Lee slapped the ball loose, Knicks first possession.
Duhon pushed the ball; the Knicks sprinted ahead, running their sets with calm purpose.
'Hmm?'
Jon Barry blinked. 'Why do the Knicks suddenly look so confident? They're the worst team in the East—maybe the league.'
'Uh…'
Mark Jackson sensed it too.
He rubbed his chin, then ventured, 'Could it be… after eight threes last game, Su Yan's scary shooting has given the whole team swagger now that he's starting?'
On court…
Duhon pulled up left-side top; David Lee ducked inside, sealing for the entry pass.
He's the Knicks' top option; his seal drew both Wallace and Jerebko.
McGrady set a down-screen for Su Yan.
Su Yan curled along the baseline, popped to the right-side top—a full step beyond the arc.
Whoosh—
Duhon delivered the ball.
Old Su Yan would never have seen that pass, but after last game—and yesterday's workout—Duhon didn't hesitate.
If a shooter who might outclass Ray Allen or Peja is a step deep, that's a shot.
Ball met hands.
Su caught, half-turned, and hoisted the long three without a gather or reset—quick and deep, classic Curry style… yet Su Yan's marksmanship sits even above the Adorable God.
What?
That deep, no hesitation—coach won't chew you out?!
Prince, late on the contest, didn't even bother to block—not for lack of reach, but lack of belief.
Of course…
…he didn't think it would drop.
Sure, the coach had muttered Su could shoot, but an undrafted guy flinging from way out? Prince ignored it and turned to crash the glass—
Next instant…
Swish!
The clean snap of net.
Su Yan's unguarded, ultra-deep three kissed the cords—pure.
Knicks 3, Pistons 0.
'Lucky chuck,' Prince muttered, unfazed, barking at Coach D'Antoni on the way back, 'Sub that No. 7 out—he's just gunning. An undrafted kid who can't play.'
D'Antoni: ??
When I slowly type out this question mark, it isn't me who's wrong—it's you.
The run-and-gun offense I worship lives for guys who fire fearless, irrational threes—provided they can hit them.
Right now Su Yan is that guy, and you're telling me he can't play and should sit?
You've got to be kidding me.
Biting back the urge to roast Prince, D'Antoni only rolled his eyes and said nothing.