Dominate the Super Bowl

Chapter 444: 443 a friend Chapter 444: 443 a friend “Who are you?”

For a moment, Li Wei strongly doubted whether he still had a case of prosopagnosia, because none of the three people in front of him were James Dolan.

Unless Dolan had sneaked off to Los Angeles for a head transplant, Li Wei was very certain and sure that none of the three people in the VIP room was Dolan.

On the alert immediately—

An ambush?

This didn’t make sense.

Why would Dolan ambush him?

Why would the New York Knicks ambush him?

Why would a professional basketball team ambush a football player?

And why choose a time when there were crowds of people outside?

However, Li Wei still sounded the alarm.

But that was only for a brief second.

The moment Li Wei entered the VIP room, one of the three men, dressed in a crisp black three-piece suit, came forward and displayed a welcoming smile.

In such a setting, the lower the status and the less confidence one had, the more likely they were to focus on abiding by the rules of dress and meticulously presenting a perfect posture, trying to arm their dignity with brand names or designer labels.

In contrast, those with true confidence and strength appeared casually at ease, unconcerned about their standing even if they wore only a T-shirt and jeans.

Of course, if one ascended to an even higher level, into the world of nobility where position, tradition, and glory could not be bought with money, the situation would again be reversed, telling a different story.

The one dressed most smartly, most expensively, and most strikingly stepped forward first.

“Li Wei, we finally meet…”

Blah blah blah.

Followed by a string of self-introductions, along with a generous amount of compliments and praise; but Li Wei’s attention had already shifted to the other two men.

The middle-aged man who stood slightly to the front appeared more relaxed and at ease.

If Li Wei was not mistaken, he was probably the one holding the real power .

He appeared to be past fifty, but the wrinkles on his forehead and the corners of his eyes didn’t make him look old.

Instead, they added a touch of scholarly elegance.

Paired with gold-rimmed glasses, he wouldn’t be out of place being called a university professor.

His light brown short hair was soft and neatly combed backward.

Despite a receding hairline, the dense and well-arranged strands still bespoke a temperament mellowed by years.

Compared with the other two, even though he too was dressed in a suit and shirt, he seemed much more relaxed.

His tie wasn’t tied tightly, his coat and waistcoat buttons were undone, his cheeks were slightly flushed with complete ease, and the muscles in his shoulders and arms bore no hint of tension.

Becoming aware of Li Wei’s scrutinizing gaze, the elegant man didn’t mind at all, raising his champagne glass in a gesture and the smile gently curling at his lips.

This scene, observed by the New York Knicks’ public relations man in front, didn’t seem to bother him either.

He exchanged natural pleasantries for a moment before shifting the subject.

“Li Wei, this is John, a friend of mine.”

Li Wei’s eyebrows raised slightly:

John?

Just that?

No last name, no title, no other additional introductions.

So, what game was James Dolan playing?

The man named John still had a poised demeanor, signaling with a smile, “Li Wei, welcome home.

Ha, I must not be the first New Yorker to welcome you back.”

One detail:

He claimed to be a New Yorker, not a New York citizen.

For a long period, Li Wei had thought that New Yorkers called themselves New Yorkers, a trendy and fashionable term that should be a source of pride, even a magazine called “The New Yorker” was continuously in high demand.

It was only after genuinely crossing over and integrating the original host’s memories that Li Wei understood the truth:

New Yorkers didn’t like to be called “New Yorkers” and might even say they detested the term.

“New Yorker” carried an air of artistic, romantic fantasy, a transient title for outsiders who stayed briefly in New York, painting those unrealistic, wonderful fantasies in the city as though it were the breeding ground for dreams, akin to the “American Dream.”

But real New Yorkers, either natives or those who have put down roots in the city for a long time, know that “New Yorker” is more like a fiction and a mockery of the city, and no one would actually call themselves a New Yorker.

A single word can distinguish the identity and position of this resident living in New York.

However, Li Wei didn’t let it show.

He spread his hands in imitation of a rapper’s pose, “Love, the world is full of love.”

A casually thrown quip easily lightened the atmosphere.

A smile appeared in John’s eyes, but his words were edged with unintended sharpness, “So, is that why you high-fived your enemy during the game?”

The mood tensed up in an instant.

Li Wei hadn’t expected his little incident with Curry to have a follow-up, unaware if the media and netizens would continue to make a fuss about it.

Li Wei stayed cool, “Enemy?” He shook his head gently, “For the weak, sports are about winning or losing, anything that hinders one’s victory is an enemy; but for the strong, sports are about challenges and breaking through, the only enemy is oneself.

It’s not that simple and crude.”

Whether it was netizens or John, Li Wei wasn’t worried about their provocative attacks, to him, these topics were merely water off a duck’s back.

However, not everyone was like Li Wei.

As soon as the words were spoken, the two beside him tensed up, immediately looking at John with anxious hesitation and sweaty palms, knees weak.

Clearly, Li Wei’s words were a dig at John being “the weak.”

This wasn’t good, really not good.

Instead, John, as the subject in question, showed an excited expression, “You do know that such a view won’t sell tickets, right?@@novelbin@@

Victory is the only way to sell tickets.”

“Haha.” Li Wei laughed out loud.

John, “Oh, you don’t agree?”

Li Wei waved his hand, “My viewpoint is, New York never needs to worry about attendance.

NBA, NFL, NHL, MLB—there’s never a lack of market in New York.

New York could build a Galactic Battleship like Real Madrid, but the city has never tried doing so.

Do you know why?”

John refused to speak, instead looking at Li Wei and waiting patiently for the answer.

Li Wei didn’t play coy, “Because New York is not some nouveau riche.”

Just like John refuses to call himself a New Yorker, obviously he isn’t a nouveau riche either.

“Victory is important, but a team’s culture, heritage, and spirit are more important.

These things that have been passed down for a century have become a brand.”

“The Dallas Cowboys last won two consecutive playoff games back in 1995, but that doesn’t stop them from still being the team with the most fans on the North American continent, even globally they are near the top.”

“I believe Jerry Jones has never been worried about selling tickets.”

Jerry Jones, the owner of the Dallas Cowboys, is also the most self-willed, infamously unreasonable owner in the league.

Without a doubt.

Light, simple, yet it hit the bullseye.

As expected, John revealed a curious expression.

He didn’t respond immediately, pondering for a moment as the tense atmosphere quietly relaxed.

However, just when it was about to ease, John launched another probing question, looking at Li Wei with curiosity plastered all over his face.

“So, are you comparing me to Jerry Jones?”

“And, you think I’m not as good as him?”