043: Average American, Slightly Sore Calves (Please Follow!)

The guy who had been the subject of trade rumors involving a superstar like Shaquille O'Neal before even entering the league did not disappoint.

The roaring noise in the Amway Center froze in an instant, as if someone had hit the mute button on the giant arena. Although Lynch was incredibly famous, this was, after all, the home court of the Orlando Magic. Just forty-eight hours ago, the city’s star, Tracy McGrady, had been traded to Houston, making Dwight Howard the new king whom Orlando fans had personally crowned.

Countless eyes in the stands burned with anticipation, eager to witness this local talent crush the European myth with his iron-like arms. Their expectations were not entirely unrealistic; international players crossing the ocean usually went through a long, painful period of adjustment to the rhythm of American basketball. Even in a Summer League filled with fresh faces, international players needed time to adapt. Here, the game was faster, rougher, more terrifying, and the individual abilities of the players were superior. Look at what Yao Ming was like when he first landed in the NBA; who could have imagined that the big, clumsy guy who was easily crossed over by Stephon Marbury would become an NBA All-Star?

But Howard had pure American basketball genes flowing through his veins. His explosive tendons had shattered countless high school backboards, and he was accustomed to this rhythm and atmosphere. Perhaps he could topple Lynch in this battle.

Instead, Lynch tore apart the script the Orlando fans had imagined just eight seconds after the opening whistle. Amidst the thunderous sound of a steel-like collision, Dwight Howard staggered back beyond the baseline. This golden boy, who had run rampant with his beastly physique since high school, was now clutching his numbed wrist in disbelief. He had never experienced such terrifying power from an eighteen-year-old peer.

If Lynch were a product of the NCAA, his strength might be understandable. But Lynch and Howard were the same age! Both were eighteen, yet Lynch’s physicality was already a level above Howard’s. This was a credit to the polishing of professional basketball and the persistent weight-gain regimen Lynch had followed. During his pre-draft workout with the Knicks, measurements showed Lynch stood at 208 centimeters and weighed 122 kilograms—roughly equivalent to a bulked-up Giannis Antetokounmpo. This allowed Lynch to easily crush the rookie Howard in physical contests. Being able to put on muscle is a talent, but being able to do so without sacrificing agility is an even greater one. The perfect fusion of A.C. Green’s injury-resistant constitution and Moses Malone’s physical attributes had gifted Lynch this unexpected ability to pack on muscle.

Howard stopped smiling; his mind was now entirely focused on getting back at Lynch. He was a cheerful kid, but he was no fool, and he possessed a basic sense of pride. The Magic were on offense, and Dwight Howard aggressively fought for position in the paint. Although his height was similar to Lynch’s and he had started his basketball journey as a point guard, Dwight Howard’s current style was more interior-oriented. He tried to establish position in the post and attack the basket after receiving the ball. Truth be told, Lynch didn’t understand why Dwight Howard had been so obsessed with playing in the post since his rookie season. He lacked low-post technique; even his back-to-the-basket turn was less fluid than Lynch’s. If he were willing to set screens and roll to the rim, his offense would be much easier.

Lynch did not shy away from Howard on the defensive end. He constantly engaged him physically, and the intense muscle collisions left Howard unable to maintain his position. With Lynch’s frame and strength, as long as he didn’t just stand there with his hands on his hips, Howard had no chance. His raw post skills led to repeated failures, and his disadvantage in strength caused him to crumble completely.

Eventually, Howard complained in frustration and even gave up on resisting Lynch. It looked as if Dwight Howard were the one who had come from Europe. The heat of the Orlando summer night could not melt the wall of steel that stood before the genius. The Magic’s offense didn't even get the ball into Howard’s hands, and after a missed shot, Howard had no ability to fight Lynch for the offensive rebound. His toughness was far inferior to Lynch’s; Lynch only needed one elbow to knock him out of the rebounding area.

As the game continued, Lynch did not hold the ball this time. Instead, like a forward version of Reggie Miller, he wove through the Magic’s defense without the ball. To be honest, Lynch felt this defense was far looser than in Europe. In the Summer League, winning wasn't the priority; individual performance was. Consequently, many players fixated on their own assignments without regard for help defense, leaving the Summer League without any defensive system or cooperation. Therefore, when Lynch easily shook off Andrew DeClercq, the Magic’s defense, lacking rotation chemistry, left no one to help, watching as the No. 10 jersey received the ball calmly behind the three-point line.

Lynch caught the ball and fired directly from beyond the arc.

"Will the NBA three-point distance be a problem for Lynch?"

Before the commentator's question had even settled, the net rippled.

"Bucket! Well, ignore what I just said!"

This long-range shot didn't just pierce the hoop; it shattered all doubts regarding the shooting adaptability of international players. The live commentators no longer held any illusions about Howard. Lynch was too mature. Look at his movement, look at his understanding of the game—this was simply not something Dwight Howard could compare to.

5-0. Lynch was already widening the gap between himself and Howard. Over the next few possessions, Lynch displayed the techniques he had honed in Europe at will. He wove traps in the mid-range area: when DeClercq backed off, wary of his accurate jumper, he immediately attacked the defender’s front foot to drive to the hoop; if the opponent risked a tight closeout, his stationary mid-range jumper became an unstoppable weapon. His screen-and-roll play completely broke the Magic’s defense. When he rolled to the basket, he was a heavy hammer; when he popped out to the three-point line, he became a crossbow. The Magic’s defensive formation, shredded time and again, made New York fans start dreaming of his fantasy pick-and-roll synergy with Marbury.

He could cut without the ball and catch-and-shoot from a set position. Compared to Howard’s monotonous post-up game, Lynch’s arsenal was magnificent. Of course, the defensive end was where Lynch was truly lethal. He held Dwight Howard scoreless in the first quarter; the new Magic king came up empty in the intense physical battle, and every attempt at a back-to-the-basket move felt like hitting a concrete wall.

After the first quarter, fans across the country knew just how large the gap was between the first and second picks. Lynch didn’t look like a rookie; he looked like a superstar who had stumbled into a Summer League game. Halfway through the second quarter, Howard still hadn't scored a field goal. His offense was as stagnant as the frozen surface of an Orlando lake, and his measly 3 points from free throws looked particularly jarring on the stat sheet. The golden boy swallowed his frustration, and finally, in the seventh minute of the second quarter, he sensed a chance to break the ice.

On this play, Howard didn't fight Lynch in the low post. Instead, he pulled out to the high post to set a screen for this year's 20th overall pick, Jameer Nelson. Nelson broke through immediately. This NCAA star, who had led Saint Joseph's University to a 27-0 regular season and reached the Elite Eight, and who had already graced the cover of *Sports Illustrated*, possessed incredible speed and easily tore through the defense. Lynch rotated to help, but Nelson didn't go for the layup. At the last second, he flicked his wrist, and the ball flew in a deceptive arc toward the shadows on the side.

The long-dormant "Superman" finally bared his fangs. Howard surged upward, his vein-popping hands hoisting the orange ball high, every muscle fiber roaring to crush the European myth before him. This was his best scoring opportunity of the day! The top talent of American soil finally seemed ready to rise!

Everyone held their breath, waiting for the outcome. Lynch, however, watched Howard catch the ball calmly and jumped at the perfect time and the perfect spot. After acquiring the shot-blocking instincts of Theo Ratliff, Lynch had been practicing constantly. He knew better than anyone that one couldn't rely solely on raw talent in the NBA. Fortunately, Lynch now possessed excellent defensive intuition.

The two god-like bodies collided in mid-air with a boom, the violent impact causing front-row spectators to instinctively lean back. As Howard slammed both arms toward the rim, Lynch’s powerful right palm sealed off the light like a judge’s verdict. Accompanied by the dull thud of leather meeting flesh, the orange trajectory stopped dead three centimeters from the rim.

"Lynch actually blocked Dwight Howard’s alley-oop! He can protect the rim, he can help on defense, he can shoot, he can drive, he can ravage the basket, and he can hit from deep. I don’t know what Lynch *can't* do... The Summer League isn't for Lynch to adapt to the NBA; it's for the NBA to adapt to Lynch!"

This was a moment of despair, for Howard would not get a better chance than this for the rest of the game. Sure enough, Howard failed to score a single field goal throughout the game. After the second quarter, Knicks coach Mike Malone, who was leading the Summer League team, told Lynch, "To hell with it, you don't need to play in the second half."

"Why?"

"Why? This damn game is completely meaningless for you! It’s like having Michael Jordan play high school basketball!"

In the second half, Dwight Howard scored some points and showed off his explosive physical gifts. But whenever they thought of the gap between him and Lynch, the Orlando fans couldn't smile. In the end, the New York Knicks easily defeated the Magic on the road. Lynch finished with 16 points, 8 rebounds, and 4 blocks in just half a game, while Howard finished the night with 12 points, 7 rebounds, and 2 blocks. The nationally televised Summer League game ended with an outcome that dropped jaws across the country.

Stephon Marbury watched Lynch being interviewed on TV and called his agent.

"Get me that kid’s phone number."

"What do you want to do? Prepare a welcome party? You’d better find some busty Asian girls then."

"No," the "Starbury" laughed confidently, "I want to send him a few tickets to the Athens Olympics. It’s time for the rookie to see a real world-class stage and watch how his big brother plays the game. When he’s struggling in the Olympics and I’m wearing the gold medal, next season’s work will be much easier."

Stephon Marbury certainly knew that the addition of a powerful newcomer would change the locker room dynamic. He intended to manage all of this before the season even began.

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This is why Lynch could be the subject of trade rumors involving Shaquille O'Neal a few days ago; he is already a superstar. — ESPN post-game summary.

Does Dwight Howard deserve the second overall pick? Make your choice. — *The Orlando Sentinel* started a new round of voting.

"Hello, Lynch. The news that you decided to participate in the 2004 Athens Olympics has made Chinese fans very excited. What kind of results do you think you can achieve?"

"It’s my first time in the Olympics. I just want to do my best; I’m not thinking too much about the results for now."

"Then, how did it feel to face legendary NBA players and top American talent for the first time tonight?"

Lynch smiled and blinked: "The Americans are just okay; my calves are a little sore."

— Lynch, in an interview with a CCTV5 reporter on-site.