Chapter 4: The Heat GM's Delight
"We won, Coach!!"
Assistant coach Jim, unable to contain his excitement, shouted with a trembling voice: "To hell with the Sweet Sixteen... We have the strength to win it all! There's no way we would fall in the Sweet Sixteen!"
Jim, overwhelmed by his emotions, looked at Herb Sendek with a slight choke in his voice.
"Ah..."
With a long exhale, Herb Sendek finally felt the weight lift off his shoulders.
"Yes, Jim, we made it to the Elite Eight!"
Herb patted Jim on the back, pulling him into a hug. As he looked at the scoreboard showing 94-89, Herb felt a wave of nostalgia.
The North Carolina Wolfpack, the 9th seed, had begun their March Madness journey against all odds, with mainstream sports media doubting their chances. Yet, they had crossed the hurdle of the Sweet Sixteen and made it to the Elite Eight.
Though the journey had been tumultuous, they had succeeded.
...
Behind the coaches' bench, the North Carolina fans began their celebration as the dejected Golden Bears fans left the arena.
"Elite Eight, here we come! That overtime was more thrilling than any roller coaster ride."
"More exciting than winning this game is discovering Wang Song, a hidden gem. With him on the court, there's a sense of reassurance. He's so reliable."
"He's just a freshman. He has so much room to grow on the NCAA stage."
"I think a player of his caliber belongs in the NBA, not just the NCAA. That's his true stage."
This opinion sparked some regret among the fans, but others remained optimistic.
"Who cares? Let's win a championship at North Carolina first. Winning the Most Outstanding Player award would significantly boost his draft prospects."
"Yes, but our next opponent is the top seed in the East, the Oklahoma Sooners, who have been unbeatable in the East, winning their first game by 20 points against the South Carolina Bulldogs."
This bit of reality didn't dampen the Wolfpack fans' enthusiasm as they continued their victory celebration.
...
Among the celebrating fans was a figure who seemed out of place. In the noisy environment, he didn't move to a quieter area but instead made a phone call right there.
"Hello!"
"Hello, hello! Can you hear me, Boss?"
...
After a brief silence, about ten seconds later, a loud voice responded angrily.
"Damn it, John! Don't you know to call from a quieter place?"
John rolled his eyes, moving to a less noisy area before shouting back: "Sorry, Boss, but time is tight. I'll keep it short..."
"Stop wasting time and get to the point!"
Randy Finley, on the other end of the line, was losing his patience.
John then spoke earnestly, "I found a championship piece for Miami in Oklahoma City. It's a center... an Asian center!"
Asian center?
Hearing this, Randy Finley frowned.
Finley had organized the scouts' March Madness evaluations and didn't recall any Asian players on this year's list.
After a moment of thought, Finley decided to check John's scouting KPI.
"John, I just checked the player list. Your focus today was supposed to be Amit Tamir of the Golden Bears. Why are you talking about an Asian center?"
"If you missed valuable information because you arrived late, I can give you a chance to redeem yourself..."
Before Finley could finish, John interrupted, "Boss, I'm not making this up. I'm at the arena right now. He outplayed Tamir... in overtime, he dominated!"
Randy Finley, the Heat's scout director and general manager, showed a skeptical expression. He trusted his own keen eye for talent, especially potential players. Tamir was Finley's pick, standing at 211 cm with an NBA center's physique and decent low-post skills.
Being dominated by an Asian kid in the paint? It seemed impossible!
Just as Finley was about to reprimand John, John dropped another bombshell, "Boss, he's a 19-year-old Chinese player. I'm sure if he enters the draft this year, he'll get an invite to the green room... just like Yao."
The news from the other end of the line grew more shocking. Finley's demeanor turned serious. John might be unreliable in daily life, but he would never joke about the team's draft prospects.
That, Finley was certain of.
"If there's another Yao, we'll need to adjust our scouting plans. John, contact him as soon as possible and keep it quiet. We don't want other teams getting ahead of us. I'll report this to the owner."
Finley's determined tone made John realize he might have underestimated Wang Song's potential.
Hanging up, John walked past the stands toward North Carolina's number 9 on the court.
...
On the court, Wang Song, surrounded by his teammates, headed toward the player tunnel. Previously a small, unnoticed figure on the team, he was now the most popular player.
Both substitutes and starters came up to congratulate him.
"Wang, I always knew you had it in you!"
"Haha, you should've seen the Golden Bears' coach's face when you grabbed those rebounds. He looked like he'd swallowed a bitter pill."
"You're usually so low-key, hiding your true skills!"
North Carolina's scoring leader, sophomore Julius Hodge, also offered his heartfelt congratulations.
"After this game, I'm sure Coach Herb will give you consistent playing time. Being a freshman and making your mark on the Wolfpack will make a lot of people jealous."
As they chatted, a dark-skinned man in casual clothes approached the front of the stands. In broken Chinese, he shouted over the railing towards Wang Song, "Wang! Wang!"
Wang Song, recognizing the mispronounced surname, turned to see John waving frantically at him.
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