Chapter Thirty-Three: Welcome to the NBA!

"The Orlando Magic came out in the second half like a completely different team—they’re playing with incredible toughness!" In the United Center in Chicago, the commentators were fired up. Though it was the Bulls’ home court, the announcers were eager to see a truly competitive, back-and-forth game between two matched teams.

"Absolutely, and it all started with that offensive rebound at the beginning of the half!" the other commentator chimed in. "Ever since Michael Wu grabbed that board, the Magic have scored on four straight possessions. The Bulls can’t seem to stop them—they’re on fire!"

"Of course, I’m not saying that one rebound changed everything, but it might stand as a turning point—a sign that the Magic were mounting their comeback!"

The commentator was right. Except for the very first possession of the half, when Fournier missed a long two, after Wu Rui grabbed the offensive rebound, the Magic scored on their next four trips down the floor. Wu didn’t even have a chance to grab another offensive board—because the team simply kept scoring!

Ibaka, for instance, slipped inside off a pick-and-roll with little Payton and drew the foul, finishing for a three-point play.

By contrast, the Bulls, who had led at halftime, suddenly seemed out of sorts. Rondo’s command of the game was still evident, but whenever a scoring chance arose, his teammates couldn’t find their rhythm. Whether it was Wade or Butler, their shots were off. Lopez was even getting completely shut down by Vucevic!

The first five minutes of the third quarter clearly belonged to the Orlando Magic.

A sharp whistle cut through the air.

Seeing his team unable to find their rhythm, Bulls head coach Fred Hoiberg called a timeout.

Looking up at the scoreboard and seeing the gap at 69 to 57, Hoiberg’s face grew grim. Though his team was still ahead by double digits, they’d held a nineteen-point lead before halftime.

To put it another way, the Bulls were being outscored 12 to 5 so far in the third quarter.

That was something Hoiberg simply could not accept.

"Jimmy, what’s going on? You’re being guarded by a rookie!"

As soon as the players sat down, Hoiberg singled out Jimmy Butler, who was matched up against Wu Rui. The All-Star had missed two straight shots to start the third, a stark contrast to his first-half form.

Of course, Hoiberg didn’t truly believe Wu Rui’s defense was that formidable. Rather, he wanted to use the rookie’s status to spur his offensive leader into action.

"Coach, I understand." Jimmy Butler certainly caught his coach’s meaning. Taking the towel from a teammate, he wiped the sweat from his brow. "Guys, give me the damn basketball!"

Butler’s response put Hoiberg at ease. The team was still ahead; all they needed was to stay steady, and victory would be theirs.

Hoiberg gave a few more quick instructions to the rest of the starters, and soon the timeout ended. The game resumed, neither side making any substitutions.

Bulls ball. Rajon Rondo stood at the sideline, ready to inbound. Dwyane Wade circled out to receive the pass, and, at the top of the arc, the Flash threw in a head fake, used Robin Lopez’s screen, and dribbled to the free-throw line, instantly collapsing the Magic’s defense.

"No one has ever dared let Dwyane Wade waltz to the rim—not ever!" the courtside announcer marveled as the Bulls’ number three so easily bent the defense. "Even if the breezes have stilled on Miami’s beaches, Dwyane Wade is still a superstar scorer!"

The commentator was right—Wade’s talent hadn’t faded. But the Bulls’ play this trip wasn’t designed for him to finish. Wade was just the initiator; after pulling the defense inward, he feinted a drive, then quickly swung the ball to the right.

Smack!

The Bulls’ number 21, their offensive spearhead Jimmy Butler, caught the pass cleanly, squared up, and stared down the rookie defender in front of him, Wu Rui. He knew well: this was his moment to attack.

"Look, Jimmy’s about to take that rookie one-on-one!"

"Oh, my God! That kid’s about to get schooled—there’s no way he can stop Jimmy Butler!"

The United Center erupted. The fans weren’t excited for Butler to torch Wu Rui per se, but for the simple thrill of watching Butler take over as the team’s new leader.

Ever since the Bulls had let the Windy City Rose walk in the summer, it was clear Butler was their new franchise cornerstone. Now was the time for the new face of the team to step up.

"Kid, I know you like to run your mouth, so I’ll make this quick," Butler said, ball in hand. He didn’t waste time talking. With a quick triple-threat, then a crossover, he feigned left and darted right—a seamless move that left Wu Rui completely behind.

This was the power of an All-Star at full throttle.

As Butler blew by him, Wu Rui felt a chill. He’d wanted to say something, but realized words were useless—Butler wasn’t interested in chatter. Here, only skill spoke.

But was that the end of it?

Wu Rui didn’t think so. Even if he’d been beaten, as long as the ball hadn’t gone in, the duel wasn’t over.

With that thought, the moment he was left behind, Wu Rui spun and sprinted after Butler.

Ahead, Butler didn’t seem to notice Wu Rui closing in from behind. Suddenly, Butler pulled up and raised his arms, ready to shoot.

Whoosh!

Wu Rui arrived in a flash, bursting off the floor, arms stretched for the shot.

But Butler’s next move made Wu Rui’s eyes narrow.

Number 21 of the Bulls, hands raised, suddenly pulled them back. Just as Wu Rui collided with him, Butler leaned into the contact, flicked the ball toward the hoop, and let it fly.

A sharp whistle blew as the ball soared through the air, caromed off the backboard, and spun through the net.

"Jimmy Butler gets the basket and draws the shooting foul on Michael Wu—he’ll have a chance for one more at the line!"

The commentator had nothing but praise for Butler’s brilliant play. This was the perfect way to teach a rookie like Wu Rui a lesson.

"Welcome to the NBA, kid!"