from the golden generation

Chapter 122 Best Rookie
US time, April 4.

Today is an important day, the end of the regular season of the NBA1996-97 season.

This means that the best person of each data has come to win the award.

Today, Yan Song, like all players, hopes to see himself on the list of winners.

And today is also the first time Yan Song has checked his various values.

Name: Yan Song.

Knicks shooting guard.

11 number.

Height 202cm, weight 209 lbs.

Points per game: 25.5 points.

Yan Song played a total of 96 games throughout the 97-72 season and scored a total of 1836 points.

"Huh, it's okay."

Yan Song wiped off the sweat from his forehead, the scoring average was very good and met his expectations.

When Yan Song saw Jordan's scoring average, he was surprised again.

"30.38 points!"

In other words, Jordan averaged 30 points per game.

This kind of record is not scary, it is interesting to have such a player.

After reading the scoring list, Yan Song continued to look at the next page.

The next page is the list of assists. This time the assist leader exceeded Yan Song's expectations. Stukerton, who has won 9 assists in a row, did not rank first this time.

And No.1 is Mark Jackson, with 11.4 assists per game.

What kind of concept is this, Yan Song will not be ignorant.

Houston watched Yan Song sitting on the stool and covering his head, wondering if Yan Song was stimulated.

The fact is really like this. Yan Song saw that he averaged only 4.7 assists per game. Compared with others, he was really a heaven and a earth.

Of the five statistics, Yan Song has read two of them and has nothing to do with him.

"It's not as good as Jordan in scoring, and it's not as good as Jackson in assists."

Yan Song laughed at himself, then returned to his original demeanor, still looking forward to the next page.

The next page is the list of rebounding champions, Yan Song knows who is the first.

"Dennis Rodman averaged 16.1 rebounds per game!"

So terrifying.

Yan Song took a few deep breaths, he really has never seen the world, he is so worthless.

But his rebounding average is 4.3
Not even one-third of the big bug.

But thinking of this, Yan Song suddenly thought of his good brother, Iverson.

I don't know if the best rookie of this year will give it to me. If Iverson has a better record, I'm afraid it will be embarrassing.

Thinking about it, Yan Song has already taken out the list that David helped him organize.

Yan Song looked at Iverson's name and read out Iverson's first three statistics.

Alan Iverson.

Averaged 23.5 points per game.

Averaged 4.1 rebounds per game.

Averaged 7.5 assists per game.

After reading these three statistics, Yan Song was relieved, he was ahead of Iverson in two.

Iverson scored a total of 1787 points this season, 49 points less than Yan Song.

The reason for the point difference between the two may be because Yan Song missed 10 games. If there were no missing 10 games, Yan Song's total score should be [-] to [-] points higher than Iverson's.

Wanting to, Yan Song also lost the desire to continue looking down.

It is impossible for him to win the block leader or the steal leader, but it is good to have the best rookie.

Yan Song shook his head and was about to get up, when Houston saw this and said.

"It's over so soon?"

"Steals and blocks didn't look."

Yan Song was a little disappointed, but Houston comforted him.

"You are already very strong, although you can't get those honors now."

"However, with your character, I believe it won't take many years for your name to appear at the top of the list."

Houston repeatedly comforted Yan Song, and Yan Song was slightly moved.

He sat down impatiently and took out the remaining two lists.

Mookie Blaylock, the No.1 name appeared in Yan Song's eyes. Unlike other lists this time, Yan Song's name was higher.

In 72 games, Yan Song scored 180 steals and averaged 2.5 assists per game.

He is only 1 away from No.0.2.

"I'll go, Alan, take a look, I'm almost the king of steals."

Yan Song rode directly on Houston's body, pasting the list on the opponent's face.

Houston was very resistant and ran around the house.

It's over, Yan Song went crazy, if he knew he would be like this, he would ignore this kid, and now he is being ridden as a horse.

After a while, Houston threw Yan Song down and ran out of the lounge in fright.

Yan Song was lying on the ground, this was the first time he was close to a big honor, and the closest time.

Yan Song felt that he could do it, and immediately took out the block list.

"The king of blocked shots, Sean Bradley, averaged 3.4 blocks per game."

Yan Song muttered a few words, this time he found his name again within a few seconds.

"Yan Song, averaged 2 blocks per game."

In 72 games, Yan Song contributed a total of 144 powerful blocks.

He didn't win the scoring, assists or rebounding titles.

But Yan Song really felt that he had made a great contribution.

At least I don't have "partial subjects", and I have very good grades in every subject.

His own efforts are definitely worthy of the reputation of the last best rookie.

When Yan Song was proud, his cell phone also beeped twice.

Yan Song took out his mobile phone happily and said with a smile.

"Hey, who are you looking for?"

"Ok?"

The person on the other end of the phone clearly heard something wrong with Yan Song's words.

"Hello, it's me!"

Iverson yelled, Yan Song swished, and said in embarrassment.

"So it's AI, what's the matter?"

Saying that, Yan Song picked up the list of best rookies and looked at it again.

Iverson seemed to sense Yan Song's complacent face through the phone, not in a good manner.

"I'm here to congratulate you, you won the best rookie!"

The voice was loud and harsh, but Yan Song was more comfortable listening to it than hearing good words.

Think about how a few months ago, I was hanged and beaten by Iverson.

But now, I can definitely sit on an equal footing with him, and my strength can even crush Iverson.

Yan Song kept putting the phone on his face and grinning, Iverson couldn't take it anymore, so he hung up the phone.

"Hey, this feeling is more comfortable than winning the scoring title."

Yan Song stayed happily in Houston, and Houston's urging sound came from outside the house not long after.

Yan Song scratched his neck and responded hastily.

"Got it, I'll be right out."

After finishing speaking, Yan Song tidied up the materials, dusted off the non-existent dust on the jersey, and walked out of the lounge.

He needs to continue to fight and fight for more honors on the NBA stage.

"In the playoffs, the battle must be won!"

Yan Song engraved these six words in his heart, and waited until he left the lounge.

The people who had been waiting for him for a long time waved their hands, signaling Yan Song to come over quickly.

"Okay everyone, everyone is here, today I want to say something to everyone."

Van Gundy took off his coat, blinked a few times and continued.

"Now that the playoffs are approaching, we have worked hard for a season, fought hard for a season, and defeated countless opponents."

"Those bad teams won't cry because they lose, but we will. I hope you keep your tears until the moment you lift the championship trophy."

Speaking of which, Van Gundy glanced at everyone.

Everyone is silent, but they think a lot in their hearts.

The last laugher is the winner, if they lose they lose everything.

No one will remember the losers, the winners are always the main ones.

The original smiles on the corners of everyone's mouths disappeared, and there was a trace of firmness and ruthlessness...

　I have almost adapted to the evening class, but not quite.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)