"Ding, Chris Webber's favorability has increased, currently at 70 points."
Webber's favorability has increased again.
Lin Yu's words touched him; he could clearly sense Lin Yu's concern for him.
After Webber left, Lin Yu quickly checked his stats. Aside from the two easygoing players, Ray Jackson and Jamie King, it seemed that all other players would receive a task prompt after reaching 70 points of favorability.
"The boy rides his childhood sweetheart, and they play around the bed with their childhood sweetheart. Living together in Changganli, the two children share no suspicion. Help him take care of Jalen Rose."
Lin Yu suspected he was hallucinating and read it several times before confirming his accuracy.
Wow, is this system preparing for the postgraduate entrance exam? It's even reciting poetry, and it's a poem by the immortal poet Li Bai.
The poem is good, but it feels a bit unrefined. It's clearly about childhood sweethearts, and it feels out of place when applied to Webber and Rose.
Webber arrived on his childhood friend's horse, and Rose danced around the bed. The scene was so beautiful that Lin Yu didn't dare to think too much about it.
The instructions were vague, and there was no specific explanation of how to take care of Jalen Rose. He could only figure it out slowly.
The next morning, they trained for two hours, and that evening, they played against the Nuggets. The Nuggets had the third-worst record in the Western Conference, which was why Lin Yu didn't take them seriously.
During pre-match warm-ups, Lin Yu sat on the sidelines, watching the players warm up.
"Young man, you've been making quite a fuss lately." An older man, seemingly older than Old Bolin, suddenly appeared behind Lin Yu.
Lin Yu turned to look and quickly stood up, his expression full of respect.
"Hello, Mr. Motta. Nice to meet you."
Anyone who commands such respect from Lin Yu is clearly no small figure. After all, Lin Yu can even ignore Pat Riley.
His experience is truly remarkable. Phil Jackson, the Zen Master, and the Utah Jazz coach are none other than Dick Motta, a veteran coach considered a living fossil in the NBA. Jerry Sloan of the Jazz, two of the league's top coaches, are both his disciples.
In addition, he led the Washington Bullets to their only championship trophy in franchise history. Unseld is also his disciple; he coached the Bullets during their visit to China.
Even the power forward and small forward positions were named after Dick Motta.
"Sit down. There's no need to be so reserved with me. I'm not as intimidating as the rumors say." Mota smiled gently and patted Lin Yu on the shoulder.
Lin Yu was embarrassed. Not scary? If Unseld was a vicious tiger, then Dick Mota was practically the ghost that the tiger transformed into after death.
He was one of the first generation of head coaches in the NBA, a typical old-school coach who followed orders and was always harsh with his players and assistant coaches. Players and assistant coaches who had worked under him didn't even dare to mention his name.
Unseld's expression changed slightly when he mentioned Dick Mota while chatting with Lin Yu.
But now that he's older, his personality seems much more amiable. At least ten years ago, he wouldn't have proactively approached a youngster like Lin Yu to say hello.
"Son, as an old man born before World War II, I'd love to hear your young minds' coaching philosophies."
"Who do you think should take the lead on a team, the coach or the players?"
Dick Motta's question was baffling, and those who didn't know would have thought he was senile, but Lin Yu knew this question had troubled Motta his entire life.
Of course, his coaching ability is exceptional; otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to train top coaches like Phil Jackson and Sloan.
The early part of his coaching career was smooth sailing, and he won every honor. However, since leaving the Bullets in 1980, he hasn't received any significant accolades.
He demands too much from his players, and no established star wants to play under him. Without top players, he naturally can't achieve results.
"Mr. Motta, who do you prefer, Jerry Sloan or Phil Jackson?"
Lin Yu didn't directly answer Motta's question, but instead asked.
"Of course Jerry," Motta replied without hesitation.
"Then who do you think achieved more, Jerry or Phil?" Lin Yu pressed.
Motta was silent this time, lost in thought.
Although Sloan and Phil Jackson were both Motta's disciples, they had completely different styles of coaching. The Jazz were coach-led, while the Bulls were player-led. Motta preferred Sloan, of course, because he was more like him.
"Are you saying the players should lead the team?" Motta said with a wry smile.
Lin Yu shook his head. "No, in this scoring situation, when you have a player like Jordan on your team, it's best to let him lead."
"No matter how sophisticated the tactics or lineup arrangements, they can't offset the fighting power of a player like Jordan."
"And when there's no player like Jordan on the team, the coach should lead."
Dick Motta laughed heartily. "What a cunning kid! What you said is as good as nothing."
"That Wes kid is actually a fool, but fools have good luck. He's always been able to get good players, and now he's found such an outstanding coach like you. I believe the Bullets' next championship is not far away."
Lin Yu secretly regretted not having a recording device. If he had recorded Mota's words for Unseld, his expression would have been fascinating.
"Beep, beep!"
The referee blew the whistle to start the game.
With Big Ben injured and out, Lin Yu fielded a starting lineup of Dwight Howard, Webber, Harvey, Jalen Rose, and Speed.
Harvey no longer has the benefits of Time Break and Berserker Blood, and his effectiveness has declined significantly. However, with Mashburn currently in Washington, Lin Yu has no other better small forward available, so he has no choice but to start him.
When Lin Yu saw the Nuggets' starting lineup, he felt a strange feeling. Their lineup was not bad, even a bit luxurious, so why did they only finish third from the bottom in the Western Conference?
Center: Earvin Johnson. Before Big Ben emerged, he was considered the league's top blue-collar center, second only to Dikembe Mutombo.
Power forward: Antonio McDyess, the second overall pick in the 1995 draft, easily averaged 20 points and 10 rebounds per game. He was an All-Star and even made the All-NBA Third Team in 1999. Webber was also named to the All-NBA Second Team that year.
Small forward: LaPhonzo Ellis. This season, he's playing at the peak of his career, averaging nearly 22 points and 7 rebounds per game. Pippen only averaged 20 points and 6.5 rebounds.
Shooting guard Daryl Ellis was also a veteran top shooting guard. In 1989, he averaged 27.5 points per game, second only to Jordan and Malone on the scoring list.
He also possessed a top-tier three-point shooting ability. Among active players, Reggie Miller ranked first in three-pointers, and he was second. When he retired, he ranked second all-time in three-pointers made.
He also held a record that has never been surpassed. In the 1989 SuperSonics vs. Bucks classic five-overtime game, he played 69 minutes—an incredible feat.
Even now, despite his age, he remains as prolific as ever, averaging around 17 points per game.
Point guard Mark Jackson, a veteran and renowned point guard known as the most point guard-like, averaged 12.3 assists per game this season, ranking first in the league.
With such a lineup, Lin Yu couldn't understand why they were only third from the bottom in the Western Conference.
At the jump ball, Howard won the jump ball, and the Bullets began their offense.
He raced up the court, seeing Jalen Rose set a screen for him, and shot a two-pointer, giving the Bullets their first victory.
It was the Nuggets' turn, and Mark Jackson passed the ball to Daryl Ellis, who missed his three-pointer.
Howard and Earvin Johnson battled for the rebound, both jumping. Howard's rebounding wasn't very good, and it looked like the Nuggets would grab it.
Just then, Jalen Rose rushed over, intending to protect the rebound, but collided with Howard mid-air.
"Bang!"
Howard lost his balance after falling, slamming to the floor and groaning, clutching his ankle.
Lin Yu's face paled. An ankle injury? This wasn't a minor injury like the one Ben Wallace suffered, which could be recovered in a week. A serious ankle injury could ruin a player's career.
Webber's expression also changed, and he hurried forward to check on Howard's injury.
Jalen Rose was utterly terrified, standing there in a daze.
After waiting a moment, Howard, aided by Webber, struggled to his feet. His right foot couldn't touch the ground, his face etched with pain.
After rising, Howard glared at Jalen Rose before being escorted off the court by staff.
Lin Yu was speechless. Even a staunch materialist like him couldn't help but believe that Jalen Rose was truly unorthodox.
He'd just injured Ben Wallace's finger yesterday, and tonight he'd nearly crippled Howard!
The referee called an official timeout, and the Bullets players returned to the bench. Webber's face was filled with worry, worried about Howard's injury. Jalen Rose's face was filled with self-blame, knowing he'd gotten himself into trouble.
"Man, you...
Even though he and Howard weren't on good terms, Lin Yu absolutely didn't want to see Howard seriously injured. He wanted to complain to Jalen Rose, but seeing the self-blaming expression on his face, he couldn't bring himself to speak.
Did Jalen Rose do it on purpose? Of course not, he just had bad luck.
"Go off the court and rest. You're probably not in the mood to play right now."
"Don't overthink it. I know you don't want this to happen."
Lin Yu stepped forward and patted Jalen Rose on the shoulder, soothing him.
Despite saying this, Lin Yu had already made up his mind. He couldn't let Jalen Rose play in this game, no matter what. If Webber got injured, how would the Bullets play the rest of the game?
After returning to Washington, Lin Yu would take Jalen Rose to burn incense and worship Buddha. This was no joke.