Brave Dragons by Jim Yardley

Author:Jim Yardley [Yardley, Jim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-95770-2
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2012-02-13T16:00:00+00:00

Li Yuanwei, commissioner of the league, arrived about fifteen minutes before tipoff and took a seat in the coal millionaire section. Bespectacled and professorial, Li was the mystery guest, a visitation akin to David Stern showing up at the last minute for a Minnesota Timberwolves game. Li visited a different game every week and had put Taiyuan on his schedule for the debut of the great Bangqi Weiersi, as the sporting press had dubbed Bonzi Wells. That Wells was not debuting was a bit of an inconvenience.

Wells was already seated in what had become his customary place, one of the chairs at the end of the scorer’s table, near the Brave Dragons bench. This section had gradually mutated into a penalty box for the banished: Rick Turner had a regular seat, along with Big Calves Tian, who no longer dressed for games, and, on this night, Big Sun. He had been demoted for the game after Boss Wang screamed at him for being too soft.

Donta had trotted onto the court, looking a little dazed, and melded into the layup line. Up on press row, every seat was taken. Television crews had set up a row of camera tripods and the number of newspaper writers had doubled, everyone anticipating that Wells would finally play. The San Jin City News had placed that day’s edition over every seat on press row to highlight an article by Journalist Li comparing Donta and Bonzi.

“Wells or Smith?” Journalist Li wrote. “That is the question.” He concluded that keeping Smith would be the safe, practical choice. Going with Wells would be daring, romantic but risky. He fretted that the season hung in the balance.

Wells was bent over in his seat, bobbing to the beat of his iPhone. The deejay, Ren Hongbing, blasted music and the Brave Dragons cheerleaders ran onto the court in camouflage army pants and sequined halter tops. When the team was announced, the crowd signaled its choice, or at least its respect, by giving Donta the biggest ovation. He was now the hometown boy. The Chinese national anthem was played. No one sang. Bonzi bobbed to his headset. Coach Liu had a final word with the starters and then Donta walked over for a solidarity shake and shoulder bash with Bonzi.

Then the game began. As in Peking Opera, the symbolism and gestures told the story. The first quarter opened with the quandary of the protagonist. Donta started sluggishly, distracted and not yet immersed in the game, perhaps weighing summer in Australia versus winter in Taiyuan. The crowd madly cheered everything he did, having assumed that this was his final game, even as public fascination deepened about his brooding replacement sitting offstage. At one point, a television crew walked onto the court and pushed a camera toward Bonzi’s face for a close-up. He glared and waved them away.

The second quarter introduced the drama’s supporting players. Olumide missed a foul shot and fell back gasping, shaking, and hopping in what could be called his frustration dance.

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