By halftime of the third quarter, Lin Mo's jersey could've been wrung out. Wembanyama's defense was like unceasing rain, seeping into every gap, even打乱 his breathing. During a fast break, Wembanyama knocked him off balance; his knee slammed into the floor—the old injury's sting slithered up his bones like a snake.
"Get off the court!" the coach yelled from the sideline.
But Lin Mo waved him off. As he stood, he felt the comma-shaped stitch on the sole. At 16, he'd fallen just like this in the rain; Old Man Joe had hauled him up, shoving a candy into his mouth. Pain's good. Means you're still moving forward.
He shifted his rhythm. No more head-on collisions—instead, he flowed around Wembanyama's defense like water. A behind-the-back pass slipped under Wembanyama's arm; a bounce pass skittered past his ankle; even a feigned turnover, the ball deliberately slipping between Wembanyama's legs—the rookie caught it under the rim, scoring easily.
"You mocking me?" Wembanyama's breath was ragged, sweat dripping from his forehead onto Lin Mo's shoes.
"No," Lin Mo wiped his face, sweat stinging his eyes like Old Man Joe's medicinal wine. "I'm teaching you—basketball's not played only one way."
The critical play came with two minutes left in the fourth quarter. Lakers down by two. Lin Mo held the ball; Wembanyama's defense was a block of ice, freezing all routes. Suddenly he remembered Old Man Joe's mended net—the one on that outdoor court, shredded by rain, patched with clothesline, crooked but always catching the big shots.
He faked a jump shot, waiting for Wembanyama to leap—then stepped back, not passing, but into a nearly forgotten fadeaway. His body twisted at an odd angle mid-air; knee pain blurred his vision, but his fingertips knew exactly where to go.
The ball swished through as the whistle blew—Wembanyama had fouled him.
And-one.
Landing, Lin Mo took Wembanyama's outstretched hand. It was bigger than his, fingertips trembling. "That angle you just used..." Wembanyama's voice lost its edge. "Like playing in the rain."
Lin Mo smiled. He thought of the rehab kid, of Old Man Joe, of everyone who'd kept jumping through the mud. "I've had plenty of practice."