Jalen Rose is a real unlucky guy—that much is true—and it's also true that misfortune tends to follow those around him.
His biological father was Jimmy Walker, the NBA's 1967 draft pick. Rose didn't even know he had a father until he was an adult. After they finally reconnected, poor old Walker passed away from lung cancer not long after.
He and Chris Webber were childhood friends who grew up together. Later, they joined the Michigan Fab Five, reaching the NBA Finals two years in a row, only to lose both times. After graduation, Rose got caught up in the NCAA bribery and gambling scandal.
His NBA career was plagued by misfortune. The most notorious incident was Kobe Bryant's 81-point game—yes, those 81 points were scored against him.
His defense wasn't bad; he even held Michael Jordan in check during the 1998 Eastern Conference Finals. But on that fateful night, he faced an unstoppable Kobe.
Even after retiring to become a commentator, he was soon laid off during ESPN's mass layoffs, finding himself unemployed once more.
He was undoubtedly a man cursed by fate; no wonder his nickname was "Bad Luck."
Lin Yu even wondered if Jordan's willingness to agree to the trade so readily—even offering Antonio Davis—might stem from Jalen Rose bringing misfortune to the Pacers again.
...
Lin Yu headed to the training facility, intending to speak with General Grant first to see if he could unlock his favorability.
Only if that succeeded could Lin Yu proceed with the next phase of his plan.
"Hey, General."
Grant sat on the sidelines, lost in thought as usual. Lin Yu approached him.
Recognizing Lin Yu, Grant merely nodded without speaking.
He actually disliked being called "General," especially now when the nickname felt more like a mockery.
What kind of general sits on the bench day after day, averaging 3 points and two rebounds per game?
"Tonight's game is against the Magic. I plan to start you."
Starting fringe players had worked wonders for Ben Wallace and Reggie Jackson, so Lin Yu assumed Grant would respond similarly.
Instead of a system notification, he was met with Grant's fury.
"Lin, what's this supposed to mean? Are you humiliating me?"
"I admit I'm not as good as him. I'll never be as good as him at anything in my life. But so what? I'm doing just fine now."
Grant's words left Lin Yu momentarily bewildered. His expression remained blank for a long while before he finally grasped the meaning.
As fate would have it, tonight's opponent for the Bullets was the Orlando Magic. Their starting power forward, "Cobra" Horace Grant, happened to be the twin brother of the General.
The two are twins, yet their appearances differ significantly. Cobra stands at 208 cm, five centimeters taller than General.
In terms of career achievements, Cobra was the cornerstone of the Bulls' second dynasty, playing a role similar to Dennis Rodman during that era. He later left the Bulls to join the Magic, where he served as a supporting player to Shaquille O'Neal and Penny Hardaway, helping the team reach the NBA Finals.
Early this season, when Shaq moved west to the Los Angeles Lakers, Cobra scored big, securing a whopping $14.86 million annual salary with the Magic.
This figure is utterly staggering—consider that Webber only made $8 million, and while Howard signed a $100 million deal, his actual take this year barely exceeded $9 million.
Shaq's annual salary was only $10.71 million, while Admiral Robinson, Hakeem Olajuwon, and Gorilla Ewing all had annual salaries below $10 million.
The only player in the entire league earning more than the Cobra was the one-of-a-kind basketball god, Michael Jordan.
Lin Yu understood. The reason General had been coasting through the season was a psychological imbalance. As twins, he felt inferior to his brother in every way—his salary was a fraction of his brother's, and he was even shorter.
Tonight against the Magic, Lin Yu suddenly approached him, demanding a starting spot. He assumed Lin Yu was deliberately mocking him.
"Harvey, is this why you've given up on yourself?"
"In my eyes, you've never been a lesser player than Horace. Five years ago, when you averaged 18 points and seven rebounds per game, what did Horace put up? 13 points and 10 rebounds?"
The only thing he has over you is luck. If you were on the Bulls, I wouldn't believe you couldn't win three championships.
Last season, you were already making over four million a year, while Horace only made a little over two million. If you keep sinking like this, the gap between you and Horace will only grow wider.
I remember you have three kids. Do you want your children to see their father as a deadbeat?
Having pinpointed the root of the General's lethargy, Lin Yu could now apply targeted solutions.
"Am I really no better than him?" the General murmured, his mind drifting.
"Yes, I'm no worse than him. Why should I be worse? I have three sons, while he has only one daughter!"
"Even if I'm less successful than him now, my next generation will surely surpass his!"
"No, I must pull myself together. I need to set an example for my sons!"
In that moment, General Grant found his drive and grew impassioned.
Lin Yu almost wanted to cover his mouth. Brother, you shouldn't speak recklessly. If the boxers heard that, they'd turn you from a general into a mess sergeant.
As the saying goes, like father, like son. All three of General Grant's sons eventually made it into basketball. The eldest lacked the talent for the NBA and played in European leagues. The second son got drafted into the NBA and became a solid bench player. The youngest, Jerami Grant, succeeded the most, even surpassing his father and older brother. He signed a massive five-year, $160 million contract with the Trail Blazers.
"That's the spirit. Tonight, you're starting at the three spot. You must start and play every minute from tip-off to the final buzzer—not a single second off the court!"
"I refuse to believe your stats tonight could be worse than Horace's!"
Lin Yu declared with a hearty laugh.
The General nodded repeatedly, but quickly furrowed his brow in confusion. "That doesn't add up, Lin."
"You mean I'm starting small forward? What about Chris? Are you making Chris my backup?"
"Ahem, that seems unlikely."
Lin Yu was new here, barely settled in. The General certainly didn't believe he had the authority to bench Weber.
"That's not your concern. I've got it covered."
"Your job is to call your wife and have her bring your three sons to the game. Let them see their father outshine their uncle."
No sooner had Lin Yu finished speaking than the system alert sounded.
"Congratulations, Host. Affinity progress with Harvey Grant has been activated. Current affinity: 60. Detailed information can be viewed in the player attributes panel."
The affinity progress had successfully activated and jumped straight past fifty. Lin Yu's next plan was ready to execute.
His next move was to secure a temporary starting position for the General.
After morning training ended, Lin Yu called out to Weber as he prepared to leave the field.
Chris, got a minute to chat?
Lin, is it important? I've got a meeting this afternoon.
Ever since Lin Yu took over as head coach of the Bullets, his per-game stats have dropped. His buddy Cheney lost his starting spot, and he even feels like he's fallen out of favor with Onseld. Naturally, he doesn't have much affection for Lin Yu.
"Regarding the Jalen Rose trade, I plan to send him to the Bullets. Do you think this is important?"
"Not only that, but I also intend to sign Ray Jackson and Jamie King, reuniting the entire Michigan Fab Five in Washington."
Lin Yu said with a faint smile.
Webber's face was filled with disbelief. This news was utterly shocking to him.
Michigan lost the championship game in its second year because Weber miscounted its timeouts. He called a timeout when none remained, resulting in a technical foul that gave the opponents two free throws and possession, sealing Michigan's fate.
All these years, Weber had carried that guilt. He desperately wanted to make it up to his old teammates.
Jalen Rose was his childhood best friend—a bond forged in the trenches, where they had shared everything since they were kids. The prospect of reuniting as teammates filled Webber with wild excitement.
"Huh? What do I have to give up for this?"
Webber quickly realized Lin Yu must want something in return. Otherwise, why would he bring this up in a private setting?
"I want the starting small forward position."
"Of course, it's only temporary. It won't take too long."
Webber frowned and asked, "How long?"
Lin Yu smiled faintly and held up one finger. He knew the General's starting spot was secured.
"A month? Damn it, if Mr. Onseld agrees, I'm willing to sit on the bench for a month."
Webber gritted his teeth. For someone of his stature, sitting on the bench for a month would be an absolute humiliation. Yet, to ease the guilt he felt toward his old teammate, he agreed without hesitation.
Lin Yu quickly shook his head. "No, no, no. You misunderstood me."
"It's one week. And it's not you coming off the bench—it's Juwan. I plan to start you at power forward."
"I just want you to talk to Zhu Wan."
Truthfully, Lin Yu had always felt it was a mismatch for Weber to play the small forward position. As one of the most physically dominant power forwards in NBA history, having him play the three was nothing short of a waste of talent.
Lin Yu was gradually piecing together why the Bullets' lineup was so terrible and their record so dismal. The root cause was Onseld.
His eye for talent was borderline clairvoyant, but his ability to utilize players was borderline incompetent. He was perpetually chasing pipe dreams, always fixated on some new invention or gimmick.
For instance, the NBA's tallest players in history, George Muresan and Manute Bol, were both drafted by Onseld. The league's shortest player, Muggsy Bogues, was also his pick.
Putting Webber at small forward was naturally his doing as well.
Seizing this opportunity, Lin Yu planned to return Webber to the power forward position officially.