The Best Point Guard

This was just returning the favor.

The only one getting hurt was a frantic Garnett.

"See? We big guys can change the rules of the game." Randolph high-fived O’Neal.

O’Neal chuckled. As long as Randolph didn’t bring up "size," he was happy to chat with him.

Meanwhile, as Tracy McGrady took the inbound pass from Yao Ming, he told him, "Yao, focus on defense. We can’t lose this home game."

Yao Ming frowned.

’What kind of home game is this? Isn’t the All-Star game supposed to be a break?’

Yao Ming had always lived by that philosophy. He had no intention of going all out in an All-Star game. There was no need.

Play resumed, and Kobe hit a pull-up jumper.

Then, Su Xi drove into the paint and passed to Randolph, who sank a mid-range shot.

The two teams traded baskets.

But it was obvious the Eastern Conference Team was using Randolph as the spearhead of their attack.

Su Xi was feeding him the ball, O’Neal was feeding him, and even Arenas and Vince Carter were setting him up.

Watching Randolph’s point total climb ever higher, James felt a bitter taste in his mouth from the sidelines. He never imagined that even at the All-Star game, he’d be relegated to a supporting role for Su Xi—and not just for Su Xi, but for his lackey.

Randolph was going crazy.

Who the hell would have thought that this guy, once a public pariah, would join the Knicks and not only avoid becoming a locker room cancer or punching Isaiah Thomas, but would actually become an All-Star starter?

Becoming an All-Star starter was one thing, but the Knicks clique was now openly rigging the game to guarantee the guy an MVP run.

They had brought their backroom dealings out into the open, completely disregarding anyone else’s feelings.

James was absolutely furious. He really just wanted to walk out.

But he had a public image to maintain.

He couldn’t just ignore the unwritten rules like Isaiah Thomas and his ilk. That was just Isaiah Thomas’s persona; he’d been the villain ever since Jordan’s rise. So, he couldn’t care less what others thought. He was determined to get Randolph the MVP.

Sigh.

Sometimes, James really wished he could drop the act and be more like Randolph and Thomas.

Look how happy they were.

They built their happiness on the suffering of others, not giving a damn about anyone else. Garnett’s face was practically turning green from all the body checks.

The third quarter ended quickly.

The Eastern Conference Team had re-established a 12-point lead.

This was thanks to the head referee completely ignoring the two big men’s flagrant post-ups. O’Neal and Randolph were having a blast backing down their opponents, much to the frustration of Garnett, Yao Ming, and Tim Duncan, who came in later.

So, during a timeout in the third quarter, they specifically dragged Popovich over to talk to the head referee. You couldn’t play like this.

Wouldn’t this just throw the whole game into chaos?

Things had to be done by the book.

Seeing them protest so angrily...

The head referee finally understood: ’Oh, so the two big guys aren’t just putting on a show.’

"I thought it was part of the All-Star show."

The head referee was a bit of a troll himself.

Meanwhile, an interesting scene was unfolding on the Eastern Conference bench.

Rasheed Wallace said to Isaiah Thomas with a stern face, "Coach, isn’t it our turn to get in the game?"

"What ’our turn’? You’ve already been on the court, and you played poorly. You’re done for the night."

Isaiah Thomas told them in a dead serious tone.

"But we’re All-Stars too," Ben Wallace stressed.

"That’s not important. What’s important is getting Zach the MVP. You guys have played in plenty of All-Star games. Do you really care about a few minutes of playing time? Be generous. Get some rest. Save your energy for when you play us in the playoffs," Isaiah Thomas said, growing impatient.

"But that’s not fair."

"I never said I was trying to be fair. Look, if you’re angry, go complain to the media. Or better yet, save that anger for the next time you play the Knicks."

Isaiah Thomas waved them off and walked over to Zach Randolph, who was coming off the court. "Fatass, you’ve already got 48 points. If you get MVP tonight, you better bring out that qipao-wearing orchestra of yours for a bit of high culture. I’ve been wallowing in the gutter for far too long."

The Smiling Assassin’s face was covered in a lecherous, suggestive grin.

The sight was enough to make the other players on the bench sick to their stomachs.

How in the world did a head coach like this lead the Knicks to first place in the league?

Could a team with a culture like this really go far?

The head coach was openly shameless, using playing time to curry favor with a player and asking him to arrange for women in qipaos... Just how corrupt does a team have to be to do something like that?

BUZZ!

The whistle blew, and the game resumed.

Shaquille O’Neal was persuaded to stay on the bench, claiming he was tired. In reality, someone had told him, "You’re killing yourself for the Knicks."

So, Thomas subbed in Little O’Neal.

Little O’Neal didn’t mind killing himself for the Knicks.

But before heading onto the court, Zach Randolph patted O’Neal’s shoulder. "You get some rest, but you have to come back in. We can’t let them underestimate our big-man duo."

O’Neal avoided eye contact. Randolph’s brazen style always made him feel a little inadequate.

He wouldn’t dare write "Big Guys are BIG" on his jersey, nor would he dare to just drop his pants in the locker room.

This just showed that O’Neal hadn’t yet liberated his true nature. Zach Randolph even wanted to show O’Neal his more... *refined* side.

The game continued.

Zach Randolph went back to posting up Garnett, but this time, he was whistled for a violation.

He had indeed been a bit too aggressive with the back-down, pushing Garnett all the way from the free-throw line into the paint.

It was a bit like bullying the Wolf King.

The Wolf King was smug, finally feeling vindicated. He taunted, "What can you do besides hide behind the rules?"

Play resumed.

Garnett ran a pick-and-roll with Nash and hit a jumper.

But in the blink of an eye, Su Xi initiated a fast break, sprinting down the court with the ball. Randolph and Little O’Neal knew exactly what to do; after all, they had both been in the trenches with Su Xi before.

Su Xi ran a pick-and-roll with Randolph, drove into the paint, drew the double-team, and then hit Randolph with a no-look pass.

Randolph caught the ball, took a step back, glanced at the three-point line, and let it fly... SWISH!

He hit the three.

Randolph coolly held up three fingers.

This was just insane.

Not only could the big lug bang around in the paint, but he could also hit jumpers from beyond the arc.

This was something Su Xi had made Randolph practice all season.

Randolph had a mid-to-long-range shot; he just hadn’t used it much before.

No one had ever considered using a big bruiser to space the floor from the three-point line. Wasn’t his greatest value in the paint?

But Su Xi believed you could never have too many skills.

Besides, a big man who can shoot threes? Doesn’t that just take the pick-and-roll to a whole new level?

"You gonna shoot a three, too?"

Randolph challenged Garnett. "Can those skinny little arms of yours even get the ball there from three-point land?"

When it came to trash talk, Randolph pulled out all the stops.

Garnett took the bait.

Sure enough, on the next possession, he shot a three.

But he missed. With the floor spaced, Little O’Neal and Su Xi combined to secure the rebound. As Little O’Neal battled Duncan for the board, he slapped the ball off the backboard, and Su Xi leaped up to snatch the carom.

Their chemistry was like a badminton doubles team.

Duncan’s expression remained unchanged, but he looked over at Popovich on the sideline, his eyes clearly saying: *I don’t want to play anymore.*

Duncan wanted no part of this game.

He wasn’t a man who enjoyed theatrics.

And he certainly wasn’t the type to go all-out in an All-Star game. ’Isn’t that just plain stupid?’

Right now, the only players on the court giving it their all were Randolph, Garnett, and Tracy McGrady.

McGrady drove into the paint, determined to throw down a powerful dunk.

But Little O’Neal wasn’t having it. He went up for the block, forcing McGrady to adjust mid-air. The moment McGrady switched to a layup, exposing the ball, Randolph was there to slap it off the backboard.

Su Xi grabbed the loose ball.

He crossed half-court and ran another pick-and-roll with Randolph. It was the same play as before: drive deep into the paint, then kick it out to Randolph beyond the arc. Randolph shot a jumper—with his left hand.

SWISH!

Another one.

He’d hit two straight threes.

His point total surpassed 50.

His jersey number was 50.

At that moment, everyone knew: as long as the East won, it was a lock that Randolph would be taking home his first career MVP trophy.