Chapter Forty-Nine: Michael or Russell

"Oh, he said his name is also Michael! Shaq, is he alluding to another Michael?"
In the TNT newsroom, Charles Barkley shook his head as he watched the video replay on the screen. "My God, I’ve never seen such an arrogant young man!"

"How can he even compare himself to Michael Jordan? He’s just a rookie who scores only by dunking!"

"Hey, Sir Charles, I think you should look at what this young man did before saying that, instead of taking things out of context."

Sitting beside Barkley was the Big Shark himself, Shaquille O’Neal, who rewound the video several frames until Rui Wu appeared at the edge of the court. Only then did O’Neal hit play.

Then the scene unfolded just as everyone knew it would: Rui Wu took the ball, ran, stepped just before the free-throw line, and finished with a two-handed dunk!

"Look at what he’s done—I think his words are completely justified," O’Neal paused the video at the moment Rui Wu soared through the air. "Clearly, he’s paying homage to Michael Jordan. It’s the highest form of respect."

"Man, he didn’t even take off his jacket!"

"Okay, but that’s just a dunk I could pull off myself—nothing worth bragging about." Barkley pursed his lips at O’Neal’s remark, clearly unimpressed with Rui Wu, and shook his head. "Let’s talk about Russell Westbrook instead. Our MVP candidate has run into some trouble lately."

"Charles, maybe we should finish discussing Michael Wu before moving on to Russell," chimed in Kenny Smith, TNT’s star commentator from the other side. "This guy’s name is right under Russell’s in the headlines."

Kenny Smith was referring to the recent NBA hot topics: at the top was Kevin Durant, who had joined the Golden State Warriors; second was the lone hero Russell Westbrook; and following them, unexpectedly, was Rui Wu, who had emerged without warning over the past few days!

"Oh, Kenny, do you really think a rookie whose average points per game barely hits single digits—no, not even five—should be ranked above MVP candidates?" Barkley declared righteously. "If you really believe that, then it’s pure coincidence."

"After winning tonight’s game, Russell’s next opponent is the Orlando Magic, and that’s the game we three will be commentating," Barkley pulled up the schedule, glanced at Kenny Smith, and then at Shaquille O’Neal. "Maybe by then, we’ll know who’s really worth our attention!"

Rui Wu’s sudden rise had stirred the curiosity of the entire American basketball world. Some held hope for him, as he was the only Chinese basketball player in the NBA. Some were genuinely supportive, like the teammates and coaching staff he’d met on the Magic.

But some viewed Rui Wu through tinted lenses, convinced he was benefiting unfairly from his ethnicity.

"A Chinese player who can dunk in the NBA? Okay, that alone is enough to make Michael Wu an online sensation!"

"But aside from this gimmick, what else does he have to offer?"

"Pitifully low averages, only playing in garbage time? Come on, man, I’d rather watch Russell go solo than see a rookie hustling during garbage minutes!"

As Rui Wu drew more attention, so too did the number of those hostile toward him. They felt he didn’t deserve such a spotlight.

On November 11th, a day that singles might find especially bitter, the Amway Center in Orlando was already filled to capacity!

Fans clad in Magic jerseys chanted the team’s name in unison, but they had another mission as well.

"Michael, we believe in you! You are the future hope of Orlando!"

"Go Michael! We’ll always support you!"

Even before the game began, many Magic fans were cheering for Rui Wu as he warmed up on the sidelines.

They understood the immense pressure mainstream opinion imposed on any rookie. The team had finally found a newcomer with real potential, and they didn’t want Rui Wu to be destroyed by public scrutiny.

"Michael, I know the recent online comments about you have been harsh, but I just want to say: as a player, your only duty is to play each game well." On the sideline, Magic’s head coach Frank Vogel gave Rui Wu a few words of advice. "Don’t worry about anything else!"

To be honest, Vogel hadn’t expected Rui Wu to face such treatment. The Magic’s management had initially just wanted to boost the team’s visibility. Now, visibility was sky-high—and so was Rui Wu’s pressure.

"Of course, Coach Frank. Those things mean less to me than taking a few extra shots."

Compared to everyone else’s concerns, Rui Wu, at the center of the storm, seemed less tense. He took the ball from a teammate, assumed a textbook shooting posture, casually released it, and the ball traced a perfect arc through the air, dropping smoothly into the net.

"Huh?"

Rui Wu’s casual shot going straight in surprised Vogel, who was still worried about him.

"Oh!"

Rui Wu was just as surprised. He asked his teammates for several more passes, but unfortunately, after that, not a single shot went in.

"Well, Michael, looks like your form is still pretty good."

Seeing Rui Wu return to his usual performance, Vogel realized this was still the Michael Wu he knew—unchanged.

"Coach, this is clearly not my best!" After missing six straight shots, Rui Wu’s expression soured. "You know, my accuracy yesterday was much higher!"

Just yesterday, after an interview, Vogel had kept Rui Wu behind for the first time to allow him to practice shooting at the basket. As a trial, he only let Rui Wu take ten shots.

Ten attempts, three made. Honestly, it surprised Vogel; he’d expected maybe one—or none at all.

"Alright, Michael, it seems you really haven’t overthought things." Watching Rui Wu miss yet another shot but persistently call for the ball again, Vogel understood his worries were unnecessary. He instructed his teammates to pass the ball to Rui Wu more often, then turned to discuss tactics with several other players.

Tonight, the Orlando Magic were set to host another powerhouse from the Western Conference, a team renowned for its resilience.

After all, the squad from Salt Lake City had always been the league’s defensive juggernaut.