Chapter Five: Dissing O'Neal

On December 7, 2005, the Clippers were on the road, facing the Miami Heat.

Before warm-ups, Shaquille O'Neal approached Xinghui He. “Hey, I heard you talked a lot of trash to Kobe, mocking him for missing the playoffs last season?”

There are few secrets on an NBA court, with so many people eager to gossip. The trash talk Xinghui He directed at Kobe two days earlier had already been decoded by lip-reading experts and detailed by the likes of Livingston; by now, everyone knew.

O'Neal clearly appreciated Xinghui He's jibes, as the big man himself was not exactly fond of Kobe during this period—after all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.

“I didn't say that. I told Kobe you only won those championships because of him.”

Xinghui He smiled inwardly, having prepared quite a treat for O'Neal. In his previous life, he'd seen a video of the rap artist Ken Jeong roasting O'Neal, and in a rap battle, Ken had absolutely gone in on Shaq.

Now, benefiting from that inherited talent for rap, Xinghui He wasn't about to waste the opportunity. He'd spent the last two days practicing, ready to fire up Shaq tonight.

O'Neal was taken aback, as this didn’t match the information he’d received.

At that moment, Xinghui He launched into his performance.

“If you want to beat me, go ahead and try,
Without Kobe’s help, your banners won’t fly.
You want to match up with me, but just can’t compete,
Maybe work on your free throws before you admit defeat.”

As he rapped, Xinghui He busted out a swaggering, almost obnoxious dance. The players nearby were stunned, with a few quick-witted ones snickering under their breath.

Everyone knew O'Neal loved rap, but here was Xinghui He, roasting him in his own language—calling out that his titles were thanks to Kobe, and poking fun at his free-throw woes.

O'Neal was frustrated, because what Xinghui He said was true. He was loath to admit his championships came courtesy of Kobe, but who would believe otherwise, unless he won one without him?

This rookie was brazen, daring to mock the great Shaquille O'Neal.

Shaq resolved to teach Xinghui He a lesson, but to his chagrin, he couldn't come up with a good retort on the spot.

Xinghui He pressed on:

“Dropping an album doesn’t mean you’ve got skills,
You’re a diabetic giant with no more thrills,
You used to be a star, now you’re just trash,
Goodbye, O’Neal, you little punk—outclassed!”

“Ohhhhh...”

On the Clippers’ bench, Livingston and others whooped and egged him on.

If O'Neal didn’t respond, he’d be losing face.

Some fans courtside, having caught Xinghui He's rap, were left speechless. In many minds, rap was the exclusive domain of Black players, but here was a Chinese guy, flowing so smoothly, shattering expectations.

What truly stunned them was the content—bold, even excessive. A more thin-skinned man would surely bear a grudge.

Fortunately, O'Neal wasn’t that type, and as a rapper himself, he mustered his wit for a comeback.

“Hey, I can’t even see you from up here,
This stage is for grown men—my rival’s Yao Ming, that’s clear…”

Shaq mocked Xinghui He’s size and fame—a decent response.

“Oh, Shaquille is rapping with the Chinese kid from the Clippers. Looks like they’re having a good time,” remarked Brown, surprised, at the commentary desk.

With his exclamation, many viewers tuning in noticed the rookie.

“He’s He, from the University of Michigan. Seems he’s fitting in well, rapping with O'Neal. And this little guy scored eleven points against the Lakers last game—not a bad player,” Brown continued, quickly scanning his notes to inform the audience.

With a single rap, Xinghui He made a name for himself in Miami. Many fans remembered the guy who traded bars with Shaq.

When the game began, Xinghui He sat on the bench, awaiting his opportunity.

For the Heat, the starting five were O’Neal, Haslem, James Posey, Wade, and Jason Williams.

For the Clippers: Chris Kaman, Elton Brand, Corey Maggette, Cuttino Mobley, and Sam Cassell.

Last season, with O’Neal on board, the Heat had won fifty-nine games, leading the East. The Clippers, meanwhile, had missed the playoffs for the eighth straight year.

Over the summer, the Heat added Gary Payton, further strengthening their roster. On paper, the Heat were in control.

Chris Kaman, facing a still-potent O’Neal, was bullied mercilessly.

Especially now, with O’Neal running pick-and-rolls with Wade. When Shaq rolled out to screen for Wade, Kaman found himself having to defend Wade in his prime—a mismatch. Kaman’s lateral movement was a disaster, forcing teammates to scramble in help.

As Wade blew by Kaman, Maggette leapt over to help, but this only left Posey wide open.

Wade dished, and Posey fired a wide-open three.

Posey’s scoring wasn’t high, but his efficiency was, and this season, he led the Heat in three-point percentage. Leaving him open was a grave mistake.

Sure enough, the shot went in.

Coach Dunleavy grimaced on the sideline. He’d known the Heat would run pick-and-rolls, but in the thick of the game, solutions were hard to come by.

In truth, the best way to guard the pick-and-roll was to switch, but that required players who could keep up. Clearly, if Kaman switched onto Wade, it was a lost cause.

On offense, the Clippers had the ball, and Wade found himself frustrated trying to guard Cassell.

The “Alien” used his deadly backside, backing Wade down. While Wade wasn’t helpless, he wasn’t very effective, either.

Cassell scored with a post-up—two points.

After eight minutes of back-and-forth in the first quarter, the score stood at 18–15, Heat in front.

Then the Heat rotated, subbing out O’Neal and Williams for Gary Payton and Alonzo Mourning.

These two names still carried weight, though their best days were behind them. Against the Clippers’ bench, it was an even matchup.

“He, get in there and take on Payton.”

Coach Dunleavy had seen Quentin Ross get bullied by Payton for two straight possessions and, disappointed, could only hope Xinghui He could work some magic again, as he had the previous game.

At last, it was his turn—and against Payton, no less.

Xinghui He was excited. Just the previous game he’d faced Kobe; now it was Payton—both legends.

Before checking in, he focused his mind and entered the system shop, ready to buy some temporary abilities.

Even though Payton was past his prime, it would be all too easy for him to crush a benchwarmer like Xinghui He.

Not wanting to lose the coach’s trust by getting torched, Xinghui He gritted his teeth and spent his rage points.

The system store was full of options: shot cards, drive cards, dunk cards, block cards, all with different grades.

For example, a Stephen Curry three-point shooting card was an S-level item—one hundred rage points bought only three minutes. But a James Posey three-point card was A-level, a hundred points for ten minutes.

Since he was going in early and would likely play more minutes, he chose Posey’s card.

In this era, with the three-point shot not yet predominant, open looks were plentiful, and A-level shooting was more than enough.

“Kid, your trash talk is like toilet paper—soft and totally harmless.”

No sooner had Xinghui He checked in than Payton started running his mouth.

Payton, self-proclaimed king of trash talk, had heard about the rookie’s reputation and wasn’t about to let it slide. He was going to show Xinghui He that, in this league, trash talk was still his domain.