Xu Ling dragged his tired body home. Outside the window, night had already deepened over Memphis. He nearly sank into the sofa, but Roderick Craig brought over a statistics sheet specially prepared by the coaching staff: “Eli, you may need to look at this.”
Xu Ling took the statistics sheet.
At first, he thought it was just ordinary basic statistics—points, rebounds, assists. But as soon as he unfolded it, his gaze fixed in place.
This was far more than an ordinary stat sheet.
Dense columns recorded the origin of every offensive play he had run tonight: left wing, top of the key, transition offense, along with annotations of the choices he made against different defensive strategies.
Against switches: 7 times—5 shot attempts, 2 passes. Against double-teams: 4 times—he got the ball out successfully all 4 times.
There was even a detailed location map of every shot he had missed: from the left corner, 0-of-2 from three; from the short mid-range on the right, 2-of-4. What surprised him more was the analysis of his three turnovers tonight: one pass route that had been anticipated, one offensive foul, and one instance of picking up his dribble too early under pressure. Each entry came with a simple tactical-board diagram and “advice for avoiding it.”
This was not a data report at all, but an extremely professional personal offensive audit.
When Xu Ling turned the page, he found that the second page contained the same kind of “statistics” covering his entire defensive performance for the game.
Rather than “statistics,” it was more like a scouting report.
“Who made this data report?” Xu Ling asked.
Craig thought for a moment, then said uncertainly, “I think it was D.J.”
Dave Joerger?
Xu Ling had a vague impression of him—one of those young assistant coaches highly regarded in the industry.
A deep analysis like the one Joerger had made for Xu Ling usually came from a professional video-analysis team. As an assistant coach, unless Iavaroni had instructed him, Joerger had no reason to do this at all. What was his purpose? If it had been to leave a deep impression on Xu Ling, then he had clearly succeeded.
Xu Ling found Joerger’s number in his contacts and called.
Joerger on the other end had clearly not expected Xu Ling to have read the report carefully, let alone call late at night. When he answered, his voice carried the hurried tone of someone preparing to explain: “Eli? It’s late. Is there a problem with the data?”
“On the contrary, D.J.,” Xu Ling said with a smile. “I’ve never seen such a detailed, precise personal report. This is more than data. I can even see your understanding of the game and your expectations for me.”
Xu Ling paused, then added seriously, “Honestly, the value of this report far exceeds tonight’s buzzer-beater. Having you on the team is our good fortune.”
The other end fell silent for a few seconds. Joerger seemed somewhat at a loss, and finally his voice took on a note of flattered emotion: “Eli. Thank you. I... I only did what I thought was necessary. Hearing you say that... it means a great deal to me.”
After Xu Ling hung up, Joerger held his phone without moving for a long time, lost in thought.
Xu Ling’s value to the team needed no elaboration—scoring 39 points and delivering the buzzer-beater against the defending champions in the season opener was enough to establish his undisputed status as the team’s core. Yet views inside the team showed a subtle split.
The marketing department had complaints about the rising star. As a hugely popular focal point, Xu Ling showed little interest in the team’s commercial activities and public promotion. This was far from their ideal team face: someone good at engaging with people and eager for exposure.
The coaching staff led by Marc Iavaroni harbored another deep worry. Iavaroni wanted to become Memphis’s Mike D’Antoni. He firmly believed the “Seven Seconds or Less” offensive system was a poem for basketball’s future, a Shakespearean sonnet on the court. But Xu Ling’s obvious discomfort within the system cast a shadow of uncertainty over SSOL’s future with the Grizzlies.
A more common view was that Xu Ling was both aloof and conceited. The clearest evidence was that he never responded on the court to the fans’ deafening cheers; he seemed to exist in another world, so calm that he was almost a stone man like Duncan.
But you know, even someone like Duncan had been ejected last season after mocking a referee’s call and enraging the referee.
Xu Ling had never had such a moment.
Such an unconventional, non-mainstream rising star should have faced opposition from fans in his home arena.
But the people of Memphis were utterly won over.
This contradictory yet genuine acceptance reminded Joerger of another name that had once defined Memphis—Elvis Presley, the King of Rock and Roll. At first, because of his swiveling hips, noisy rhythms, and a crude, unrefined method of roughly splicing Black blues with country rock, he was seen by the mainstream as a heretic defiling propriety. But it was precisely that authentic, uncompromising, even slightly aloof rebelliousness that struck the soul of the Blues City. Thus, Elvis was no longer just a singer, but a cultural faith that transcended music itself.
At that moment, hearing the faint echoes still drifting in from outside—fans still chanting “Lord Eli”—a thought suddenly surfaced in Joerger’s mind that startled even him.
Perhaps no one in Memphis truly knew Eli at all.
Less than an hour after the game ended, the homepages of major social platforms had already switched to giant posters of Xu Ling standing still after the buzzer-beater, with the Spurs players’ stunned expressions behind him.
The news world’s reaction kept howling the next day.
The Memphis Commercial Appeal reminded all residents who had not watched the game what had happened at FedExForum last night with a striking headline: “Good morning, Blues City! The age of the Lord begins with a buzzer-beater!”
Then there was ESPN. It responded quickly. Though the outlet leaned toward Nike, it was not about to miss any chance to attract traffic. It produced a feature on last night’s game, and several NBA reporters under its banner wrote columns about it.
The most striking was Chris Sheridan, who had harshly criticized Xu Ling before. His attitude made a complete reversal: “Memphis is destined for a brilliant morning. You cannot imagine a more perfect start to the new season—Eli beat the defending champions with a debut that may be the greatest in a decade. At least for now, no one will question Adidas’s bold investment back then.”
Adidas, naturally, was even less likely to let this excellent marketing opportunity slip.
From the moment they resolutely bet on this young man, they had believed he would bring returns beyond imagination. And this debut pushed them forward by a huge stride.
Lawrence Norman, head of Adidas basketball, decisively held a press conference in New York and announced excitedly: “To match the great ambition shared by Eli and this city, Adidas has formally decided to invest in building a brand-new ‘Adidas Basketball Innovation Center’ in downtown Memphis. This is not just a building, but a long-term commitment: we will shape the future together with Memphis and with the basketball community of Tennessee.”
Then Norman paused briefly and dropped another bombshell: “At the same time, to celebrate the beginning of Eli’s NBA legend, we will release a region-exclusive debut signature line—the ‘Terminator Generation One: Memphis Blues.’ It represents Memphis’s resilience and pride, and more than that, it is a symbol of this city’s spirit. We believe it will, like Eli, go national and go global.”
While the Adidas camp was eager to market Xu Ling to the whole world, Nike did not sit idly by. It was just that their turn had not yet come; no matter what they had the media say now, it would be useless.
Yet to Xu Ling, all these outside news stories were nothing more than floating clouds.
Because the team had a back-to-back home game against the Indiana Pacers tonight, head coach Marc Iavaroni had specifically scheduled the film session for the morning.
The atmosphere in the Grizzlies film room was relaxed but weary. Darko Milicic, with a pair of heavy dark circles under his eyes, slumped in his chair. A teammate immediately leaned over and teased, “Hey, Darko, what did you do after the game? Your dark circles make it look like someone beat you up.”
VIP club regulars like Milicic, with a documented record to show for it, were usually masters of time management. It was hard to imagine how precisely such men could control their time just to let their lives blaze.
Hearing the teammate’s question, Milicic showed no pleasure at all and only complained: “Don’t even mention those girls from ‘Blues Night.’ They have no idea what service spirit means! No attitude for serving customers, and their skills were lousy as hell. My money wasn’t for listening to them complain about tips... what a waste of my precious sleep!”
Xu Ling sat quietly to the side without saying a word.
Until head coach Marc Iavaroni pushed the door open with a tactical board.
Since the team would still have to face the Portland Trail Blazers in the second night of a back-to-back, Iavaroni had to split the film session in two: the first half reviewed last night’s thrilling game against the Spurs, and the second half analyzed tonight’s opponent.
During the review of the Spurs game, Iavaroni mostly offered praise. When it came to Xu Ling, the only shortcoming he pointed out was that “sometimes he briefly drifts outside the tactical system,” but as if worried this was too harsh, he quickly added: “Of course, if Eli hadn’t chosen to believe in himself at certain moments, we probably wouldn’t have won this game at all.”
Other players did not enjoy the same lucky double standard from the head coach.
Apart from that, the first half of the review was uneventful, until Iavaroni switched the footage to the final moments—Manu Ginobili had picked up an offensive rebound tipped out by Tim Duncan at the top of the key, while Rudy Gay, who should have been rotating over to help on defense, had already sneaked out early for the fast break.
The image froze on the moment Gay was sprinting at full speed toward the opponent’s half, completely unaware of the crisis behind him. The film room fell silent at once.
Iavaroni turned off the projector and locked his eyes directly on Gay.
“Rudy, we need an explanation. At that moment, what made you think giving up defense and running the floor early was a more important choice than securing the win?”
Gay’s expression darkened as he looked away and muttered, “I thought we’d get the rebound... because we had more people under the basket... I thought it was an opportunity...”
“An opportunity?” Iavaroni’s voice rose sharply. “Tim Duncan may be one of the best frontcourt players in this league! What chance did you think we really had of grabbing that rebound at that moment? That isn’t even gambling—it was a complete mistake! That wasn’t a choice; it was a defensive failure! It doesn’t matter what you ‘thought’; our tactical discipline required you to hold your position! Because of your so-called ‘opportunity,’ we nearly lost last night’s game!”
Gay suddenly stood up, the chair legs scraping harshly across the floor.
“So now it’s all my fault? Just because I made a wrong choice?”
“This isn’t about a choice, Rudy; it’s about judgment!” Iavaroni refused to back down and stared him down. “And your judgment last night was utterly terrible.”
Gay’s face turned ashen. He seemed to want to argue, but in the end he only kicked the chair away savagely and turned to head for the door.
Suddenly, a leg lazily extended, perfectly blocking Gay’s path.
Gay looked down. It was Xu Ling.
Was it surprising? Not in the least.
He nearly laughed in fury. Why was it always him? Because of this guy, his status in the team had plummeted; because of him, no one in the locker room looked at him anymore; because of him, he was now in such an embarrassing situation. What did he want now?
“Sit down, Rudy,” Xu Ling said gently.
“And if I say no?” Gay retorted coldly.
“I’m not ordering you,” Xu Ling finally turned his face, his eyes showing little emotion. “You owe me a favor. Remember? If I hadn’t made that buzzer-beater, your situation today would be ten times harder than it was just now. I cleaned up your mess; now it’s time for you to repay me.”
Gay froze in place, his expression changing several times, before he gritted his teeth and dropped heavily back into his chair.
“That’s more like it,” Xu Ling said lightly. “Relax. It won’t kill you.”
At least not today.
Chapter 68