Chapter Seventy-Three: The Shark's Interview

O’Neal’s bulky frame was truly eye-catching. Many Magic fans lingering courtside couldn’t help but stop and watch, curious what the Big Shaq was planning to do with a microphone in hand.

The big man strode at an unhurried pace; by the time he reached the Magic bench, most of the players had already made their way toward the tunnel. Luckily, the person he wanted to interview was still there, gathering his things.

“Michael Wu!” O’Neal spotted his target through the crowd and took a deep breath. “Hey, young man, it’s not easy to get an interview with you!”

“Shaquille O’Neal?” Wu Rui, who had just been about to stand up from the bench, turned at the sound of his name. He leaped to his feet in astonishment. “Whoa, is this for real? Am I seeing Shaquille O’Neal? The Big Shaq?”

It was only after saying this that Wu Rui realized how silly he sounded. Even at his own height of 6’7”, he had to look up at the giant before him, who was at least 6’11” tall—no doubt it was O’Neal!

But as a lifelong basketball fan, meeting one of the NBA’s all-time greatest players in person was a thrill like no other.

“Of course I’m real, Michael. I’m Shaquille O’Neal, the genuine Shaq.” O’Neal hadn’t expected Wu Rui’s reaction; the wide-eyed fan before him was a far cry from the fierce competitor who’d battled Westbrook for rebounds earlier.

Even though he was sure it was really Shaq, Wu Rui still felt as if he were dreaming. O’Neal got straight to the point. “Michael, I’m just a courtside reporter for TNT tonight. I hope you’ll agree to a post-game interview.”

“Oh man, this is unbelievable, Shaq! You know, I’ve always been a huge fan of Shaqtin’ A Fool!”

“Huh? Shaqtin’ A Fool?”

O’Neal had expected Wu Rui to say he was a fan of his playing days, so he was momentarily taken aback. Then, as Wu Rui grinned at him, O’Neal realized this Chinese rookie was just joking.

“Good one, Michael. Trust me, you’ll make it onto Shaqtin’ A Fool someday,” O’Neal replied, before guiding the conversation back on track. “Okay, enough small talk. TNT didn’t send me here just to joke around.”

“Michael, congratulations on your home win tonight. What do you have to say about the game?” O’Neal asked professionally, handing the microphone to Wu Rui. “Come on, young man, let’s hear it.”

“Uh… sure, no problem.” Wu Rui took the mic, still somewhat at a loss. “Today we won… yes, we won…”

“Come on, Michael, relax! Just say whatever comes to mind!”

“Yeah, Michael, speak your mind—you’re the winner tonight!”

From the sidelines, some Magic fans who hadn’t yet left called out encouragement to Wu Rui, clearly seeing how nervous he was.

Wu Rui’s nerves were understandable; not only was this his first post-game sideline interview of his professional career, but being interviewed by Shaquille “the Big Shaq” O’Neal in person would be enough to rattle anyone.

“O…kay, first I want to thank everyone,” Wu Rui exhaled lightly and waved to the fans by the court. “The team’s progress is always built on the support of our fans…”

“Yeah!” The fans erupted before Wu Rui could finish, their cheers clearly a response to his words.

Wu Rui smiled at them and continued, “Secondly, I want to say that this was a team effort. Whether it’s my teammates or Coach Frank, everyone gave their best. That’s the key to winning.”

“That’s a pretty lame answer,” O’Neal said, taking back the mic and tilting his head. “Next question: Russell Westbrook was one rebound short of a triple-double tonight. Everyone who watched the game knows he could’ve had it in the third quarter. What do you have to say about that?”

O’Neal was a master of loaded questions. He didn’t spell it out, but everyone knew exactly who had kept Westbrook from his triple-double.

“What do I have to say?” Wu Rui relaxed visibly at this. “I just want to say, ‘Michael Wu, well done!’”

“I said before the game that Russell would only get a double-double tonight—and I delivered. So this feels amazing!” Wu Rui was getting into it. “Of course, I can imagine the number of Westbrook fans online who are about to start flaming me.”

“But so what?” Wu Rui shook his head at the camera. “Russell didn’t get his triple-double tonight, and that’s enough for me!”

He looked directly into the camera, visibly elated. Indeed, he’d made good on his pre-game promise. But just as he’d anticipated, as soon as the Thunder-Magic game ended, basketball forums across America exploded with chatter.

“Three consecutive offensive rebounds—Michael Wu snuffs out an MVP’s triple-double dream!”

“Promise fulfilled: Chinese rookie defeats MVP!”

Thread after thread with similar headlines shot to the top of the forums; as soon as one was merged, new ones sprang up.

“Incredible—Russell Westbrook put up a near triple-double with 40+15+9 tonight, but lost the rebounding battle to a rookie?”

“If Michael Wu had missed just one rebound, Russell would have had a 40+ triple-double tonight. What a shame!”

“But I respect Michael Wu’s decision. He said before the game that Russell wouldn’t get a triple-double, and he stuck to his word. Nothing’s cooler than that!”

“Is Michael Wu too unfriendly? He spoiled a historic stat line!”

Naturally, American fans split into two camps. Some felt Wu Rui did nothing wrong—after all, no one wants to see an opponent notch a triple-double on their home court, especially when he already had 40 points.

Others accused Wu Rui of spoiling a historic moment, unleashing a torrent of criticism.

Such division among fans was to be expected, and Wu Rui’s post-game interview only added fuel to the fire, making Westbrook’s missed triple-double the hottest NBA topic of the day.

Perhaps even Westbrook himself hadn’t expected that news of his near triple-double would generate more buzz than news of him actually getting one.

Back in his Orlando apartment, Wu Rui lay on his bed and turned on his phone, only to have seven or eight unread messages pop up at once.

“Well done, Michael!”

“You’re our Dennis Rodman!”

Clearly, these were messages from his teammates. Since Wu Rui had stayed behind for O’Neal’s interview, they’d left first, and sent their locker room words to him by text.

“These guys…” Wu Rui felt a warm glow inside. He was just about to reply to each one when his phone suddenly rang.