030: The Opponent Before El Clásico

"Are you still not satisfied? I think you’d shove the egg in there if you could! I’m telling you, this won't work!"

"Shut up, Theo. You have no idea what 'satisfied' means. Like I said, winning a championship is a holistic experience. If you don't know how to enjoy it, why even bother winning? Besides, it’s not like I’m stuffing it into you, so why are you so worked up?"

"You don't need to do *that* to enjoy it."

"You wouldn't understand. This is what makes it satisfying!"

It was the day after winning the ACB championship, and Lin Qi was celebrating the victory with Theo in a rather unconventional way.

How else does a man celebrate? Naturally, by treating himself to his favorite food. Back in Serbia, Wu Lan would sometimes cook Chinese dishes, but living alone in Spain, the cafeteria menu was always the same tired fare. Lin Qi was sick of it and had been looking for an excuse to improve his diet. He had even considered mooching off the football team, as he’d heard their meals were superior.

Yesterday, after the trophy ceremony, while he was signing autographs for fans, an Asian fan had spoken to him in Chinese, mentioning that he ran a restaurant in Madrid and would be thrilled to have Lin Qi visit. Today, Lin Qi had brought Theo along.

Lin Qi, who usually strictly controlled his diet, decided to make an exception and ordered a bowl of beef noodle soup—extra noodles, extra meat, and plenty of scallions. The owner, a fan of the Real Madrid basketball team, didn't hold back. The handmade noodles were piled into a mountain, soaking up the broth, while the tender beef tendon was so abundant it threatened to spill over the sides. The amber-colored beef bone broth in the ceramic bowl radiated heat, its rich aroma teasing his nose.

Yet, Lin Qi still wasn't satisfied; he added a braised egg. He carefully submerged the soy-marinated egg into the broth, watching the amber ripples wash over the droplets of oil.

"No, you can't push it in!!!" Theo, an obsessive-compulsive, watched the broth spill over the rim and looked ready to lick it clean. It was unbearable! Why did you have to spill the soup? Why make the white bowl look so messy!?

Lin Qi sipped the broth along the edge of the bowl, took a massive mouthful of noodles, and closed his eyes in bliss. "Ah... this is what a complete championship feels like. Someone who only eats grass like you wouldn't understand."

Theo poked at his vegetable salad with a fork, the metal scraping harshly against the porcelain plate. "Wouldn't the pool party Luis invited you to yesterday have made your championship even more 'complete'? Why didn't you go? Didn't he say he called at least ten women?"

"Forget it. I'm not into that."

"You don't like women?"

"I don't like women with dark skin who are also ugly. Luis's taste... as long as they have a big butt, he doesn't care if they look like Coach Bosko. I remember a reporter once commented on Coach Julio, saying the ugly women he’d been with were the stuff of nightmares. That description fits Luis even better. So, would you dare go to his party?"

Theo pondered for a few seconds, then nodded. "Put that way, your way of celebrating is definitely more normal."

After finishing the bowl and posing for a photo with the owner, Lin Qi and Theo prepared to leave. The owner rubbed the edge of the Polaroid, his gaze fixed on the young man zipping up his tracksuit. "You’ll be focusing on the draft now, right? Most rookies are probably busy flying around for workouts. When are you heading to the States?"

It was April, nearly a year since Lin Qi had arrived in Spain, and only sixty days remained until the 2004 draft. He had already submitted his application, and the day before the finals, he had received a reply from the NBA. The white envelope with the league logo felt heavy in his hand, marking his official entry into the 2004 draft pool.

Honestly, even Lin Qi felt a bit dazed when he received the letter—he was actually going to be in the NBA draft. For most rookies, this was the time for meetings, workouts, and hype. Their draft position, their destiny, their lives—everything was about to change drastically in two months. Some would become the darlings of a city with multi-million dollar contracts, while others would drag their suitcases through the dilapidated gyms of the G-League.

By all accounts, Lin Qi should have been preoccupied with the draft. But when asked, he merely shook his head. He held his palm up to his face, the morning light casting shadows across his sharp jawline through his fingers.

"No, I have to focus on the EuroLeague championship first. The draft can wait. The Triple Crown... the Triple Crown..."

The young man stared at his hand with firm resolve, unwavering in his belief that he would achieve it. The whispers of draft stock, shoe deals, mansions, and supercars were filtered out as mere background noise.

He always remembered the saying: "A true professional player stays focused on the victory right in front of them." It was the rule of championships he had learned from the captain of Real Madrid.

The owner’s smile froze on his lips. Lin Qi was still half a month away from turning 18, yet he had already secured the Spanish King's Cup, the ACB regular-season MVP, the ACB league title, and the ACB Final Four MVP. These medals were enough to make any professional player's resume shine. The restaurant owner recalled that when he was 17, he was still hiding outside a dance studio, peeking at Spanish girls doing splits.

Yet, after achieving all this, Lin Qi was still hungry for the EuroLeague title. And rightfully so; the EuroLeague title was special and the hardest to attain. It was the most prestigious honor in European basketball, the Holy Grail that had seen countless legends fall. With over a dozen leagues across Europe producing a dozen champions each year, there was only one EuroLeague champion. To win it was to touch the true crown of European basketball.

The owner suddenly felt the photo paper grow warm in his hand; the youthful ambition he had smoothed over by time seemed to return to him. At 17, chasing a EuroLeague championship? You could call Lin Qi arrogant, but that was what being young was all about. It was the age of unrestrained courage and passion. Who wouldn't want to see him carry that passion and pride all the way to the end?

"Well, good luck, Lin Qi. I’ll be at the Nokia Arena in Tampere to witness it in person!"

"Thanks, boss. Here's the payment for the meal."

"Forget it, Lin Qi. Take it back. Give me the chance to tell my son one day: 'When I wanted to treat the greatest basketball player in the world to a meal, he did me the favor of coming.'"

***

The scent of champagne from the championship celebration hadn't yet faded, but a new battle cry already echoed through the Real Madrid locker room. With the league title in hand, the team remained high-spirited and driven. The final showdown of the EuroLeague was within reach; the epic tapestry of a Triple Crown was about to be woven.

Real Madrid had reached the EuroLeague Final Four; two more wins and they would secure the title. Most importantly, they had the chance to face Barcelona in the finals. If both teams made it through the semifinals, the final would be a clash of the titans—the *El Clásico*.

While the team was lost in daydreams of the *El Clásico*, a silent storm was brewing in the office of head coach Julio Lamas.

"Retiring?" Lamas’s eyes widened. Outside the office, the crisp sound of high-fives from the training court contrasted sharply with the heavy air inside.

"Yeah," Alberto Herreros leaned back in his chair and nodded calmly. "I’m old. I’ve been playing professionally since 1988. I’m already the second-most capped player in ACB history; you wouldn't want me to grind my way to first, would you?"

Herreros was composed, having made this decision long ago and ready to face the end of his career.

"But you just hit the game-winning shot to secure the title two days ago! You can still play! The team still needs you, and the Madrid fans need their captain. If you walked out there now and told the fans you were staying, do you know how happy they’d be?"

"Enough, Julio. It’s the era of the youngsters now. Look at Lin Qi, look at Theo. They’re only 17 and they’ve already reached this height. They’re much better than us. It’s time for me to be washed away by the tides of history. Don't worry, I won't leave entirely. I'll find a relatively easy role on the coaching staff. But I’m truly not cut out to keep fighting on the court; this season has left me feeling exhausted."

"Is that so? I couldn't tell at all."

"Why? Are you saying a captain should look exhausted in the locker room? I don't know how many times I’ve come home after practice and collapsed, sleeping until the next day, not even getting a chance to hug my kids."

Julio Lamas didn't try to persuade him further. He had a family and children, too; he understood that longing to find time for them.

"When do you plan to tell your teammates?"

"I'll tell them in a bit."

"Aren't you worried about affecting their preparations?"

"Julio, they aren't the same as they were at the start of the season. They know what it means to be a truly excellent team now. This little bit of news won't affect them."

Ten minutes later, the Real Madrid captain announced his retirement in the locker room. Lin Qi’s motion of tying his shoes came to an abrupt halt, and the energy drink bottle in Theo’s hand emitted a sharp crinkle. After ten seconds of suffocating silence, the 17-year-old core of Real Madrid said calmly: "Then we’ll use the EuroLeague trophy as your retirement gift."

The locker room erupted instantly, the sound of young players pounding their lockers like a war drum.

Herreros glanced at Lamas. "See? I told you they were a truly excellent team."

Yes, this team was different. When they lost to Barcelona for the first time, they were just a team with talent, nothing more. But now, they were true lions of the championship.

Three days before the finals, the entire Real Madrid squad arrived in Tampere, Finland, the host city for the 2004 EuroLeague Final Four. In his hotel room, Lin Qi opened his system; it was the day the shop refreshed.

After a full season, Lin Qi had accumulated 198 talent points; one more game would get him to 200. European seasons didn't have as many games as the NBA. The ACB league, playoffs, King's Cup, and EuroLeague combined didn't even reach the number of games in an NBA regular season, so talent points were slow to accumulate.

Still, he was almost at 200. Lin Qi looked at the new items in the shop and was dumbfounded.

[Upgrade MMA technique limit to James Johnson's level. Price: 150 talent points.]

[Upgrade foot-stepping technique limit to Bruce Bowen's level. Price: 150 talent points.]

[Upgrade block anticipation ability limit to Theo Ratliff's level. Price: 200 talent points.]

Looking at the first two items, Lin Qi exclaimed, "Are these even legitimate basketball items!?"

Should he add Derrick Fisher’s 'stealing your teammate's wife' technique? Or Draymond Green’s 'trash-talking your own teammates' technique? If he did that, he’d dismantle any team he joined; even the GOAT couldn't save them!

Lin Qi, without hesitation, locked his target on Theo Ratliff’s shot-blocking talent. In the EuroLeague, his shot-blocking was purely instinctual, backed by athleticism at least two tiers above his opponents. But in the NBA, where everyone was highly athletic, he couldn't rely on instinct alone. He needed elite anticipation, or he’d just be faked out of his shoes.

He would redeem the blocking ability after the next game, giving him time to master it by the time he entered the NBA. The subsequent mission to take revenge on Barcelona would grant him another 200 points, which he planned to save for the next shop refresh. This meant he could undergo two more upgrades before entering the NBA.

He was ready for North America, but for now, he had to win that EuroLeague title. Before taking down Barcelona, he had to handle his semifinal opponent—the Israeli powerhouse, Maccabi Tel Aviv. That team boasted the versatile NBA forward Anthony Parker and the most terrifying individual offensive player in Europe, the Lithuanian war god Šarūnas Jasikevičius. They were no mere side characters; they required Lin Qi’s full commitment.

***

"Dwyane Wade, who wasn't highly regarded during the draft, has shown superstar potential in the playoffs. He is literally a Michael Jordan who is five centimeters shorter!" — *The Miami Herald*

"Since becoming a starter, Carmelo Anthony’s performance in the playoffs has improved steadily. He is currently the scoring leader in Motor City. Can he become the first legendary player in history to win an NCAA championship in his rookie season and an NBA championship in his professional rookie season?" — *Sports Illustrated*

"You know, although Dwyane still has various flaws, I am still willing to put him in the same breath as Melo and the great LeBron as the 'Three Heroes of the East.' Yes, LeBron hasn't played in the playoffs yet, but you'll see how good he is when he starts." — Dave McMenamin

"Michael Jordan has recently felt a recurring dull pain in his ribs, with no identifiable cause." — *NBA Space*

"The 2004 NBA Draft Lottery is set for May 27th at 8:00 PM. Washington Wizards, Chicago Bulls, Orlando Magic, Phoenix Suns, Los Angeles Clippers, New York Knicks... which of these teams with fewer than 30 wins this season will get the pick that changes their destiny? Stay tuned for the broadcast!" — ESPN