Some male spectators, not exactly Lian Dao fans, glared with barely concealed jealousy. Their thoughts boiled down to two impulses: either smash that infuriatingly charming face or trade places with him. Every dragon-slaying boy, it seems, dreams of becoming the dragon.
Curry overheard the bold declarations of female fans on the sidelines, and a pang of envy hit him. Sure, he'd never betray Ayesha, but who doesn't crave a little adoration? High-quality fans cheering your name? That's the kind of clout you brag about. But with his baby face, Curry felt like female fans saw him as a little brother, not a star. It irked him so much he was half-tempted to prove a point—show them he wasn't that little.
Shaking it off, Curry steadied himself, signaled he was ready, and stepped up for the three-point final.
At the first position, he shockingly missed the opening shot. I was just praising your mentality, man, Lian Dao thought, wincing. Curry adjusted, sinking the next four shots, including the flower ball, for four points. The second position was nearly as good, earning four more, but at the third, nerves got the better of him. He missed shot after shot, finishing all five positions with just 17 points—well short of the championship.
The "elementary schooler" could only shrug, frustration etched on his face.
As Lian Dao took the court, Curry extended a handshake and a hug. "Go get that trophy, man. I know you've got this."
Lian Dao raised an eyebrow, half-expecting a jinx, but Curry's earnest expression told him otherwise. This was genuine.
"Don't worry," Lian Dao replied, patting Curry's shoulder before striding onto the court.
He took a deep breath and signaled he was ready. The one-minute clock started.
First shot—swish. The ball didn't even graze the rim, slicing cleanly through the net. The second, third, and fourth followed suit, all perfect at the first position. The second position? Flawless again. At the third, he dropped one regular shot but stayed composed. The fourth was another clean sweep.
By the fifth position, the crowd was already roaring. Lian Dao had 23 points with one rack left. His rhythm faltered briefly, and the first shot missed. No panic—he had plenty of time, thanks to his quick shooting earlier. After a slight adjustment, he sank the second, third, and fourth shots. For the final flower ball, he fired with confidence. The moment it left his hand, he turned his back to the basket, placed his left hand behind him, and swept his right across his chest in a gentlemanly bow.
The ball dropped—swish—and the arena exploded. Lian Dao's flair pushed the crowd to a fever pitch.
Yao Ming, watching from the sidelines, grinned with a mix of pride and amusement. "Xiaodao's got way too many tricks up his sleeve."
"Congrats, Yao. China's got a sharpshooter," Kobe said, clapping as he marveled at Lian Dao's performance, missing only two regular shots. He remembered spotting that No. 1 red jersey back at USC—a steal the Lakers never had a chance to snag. "Kid's growing too fast."
Yao beamed, no trace of his usual humility. "He's something special."
Curry, meanwhile, stared at Lian Dao with open envy. Sickle's got all the flair. Should I come up with a cool celebration move too?
Lian Dao finished with 28 points, clinching the 2010 Three-Point Contest title and shattering Larry Bird's record of 24 points. He raised the trophy triumphantly after a brief acceptance speech, then fielded media questions before shifting focus to the dunk contest.
Truth be told, this year's slam dunk contest was shaping up to be a snooze without Lian Dao. LeBron James bailed again, and Dwight Howard opted out, leaving the event star-starved. Fans online were clamoring for Lian Dao—whose free-throw-line dunks and windmill slams in the regular season had gone viral—more than they wanted James. It was no wonder Stern pushed for his participation.
Lian Dao's dunks were heavily inspired by future contests, particularly the 2016 showdown between Aaron Gordon and Zach LaVine, which delivered iconic moments. Why reinvent the wheel when proven classics were there for the taking? Gordon and LaVine hadn't even entered the NBA yet, so Lian Dao borrowed freely.
He wasn't among the three main contestants, as he hadn't committed when the initial lineup—announced January 19—was set. To earn his spot, he had to outshine DeMar DeRozan and Eric Gordon in the qualifiers. His weapon? A move straight from Gordon's 2016 playbook: a 360-degree spin, catching the ball mid-air, and dunking while tapping his head. When he landed it, DeMar and Gordon exchanged stunned glances.
You're burning that move in the qualifiers? their looks seemed to say. Who does that?
The five judges' jaws dropped, and they unanimously raised 10-point cards. Lian Dao's explosive qualifier set the bar sky-high for the main event, where he'd face Lakers' Shannon Brown, Bobcats' Gerald Wallace, and teammate Nate Robinson, a former dunk champion.
In the first round, Lian Dao went first. He chose another Zach LaVine classic: a self-tossed, 360-degree spinning dunk. It demanded elite leaping ability, flexibility, and coordination. As he soared, completing the mid-air twist and slamming it home, the crowd leaped to their feet, mouths agape. Curry, watching from the sidelines, was practically drooling. Golden State's Dunkless King could only shake his head, muttering, "How does he do that?"
The judges validated the dunk, and all five flashed 10s. Lian Dao had expected it—LaVine's move was a future legend for a reason. The score piled pressure on Shannon Brown, up next.
Brown attempted a 360-degree dunk from inside the free-throw line but botched it. His bounce was solid, but his flexibility, coordination, and core strength couldn't match the move's demands. On his second try, he scrapped the spin for a simpler free-throw-line, hand-switching dunk. Even then, poor coordination led to a shaky finish, earning just 37 points.
Gerald Wallace, the third dunker, fared little better. At 26, past his physical peak, he lacked the core strength for complex aerial moves. His attempt—a 180-degree spin with a two-handed reverse dunk—lacked polish, scoring 38 points due to its incomplete execution. The league's later rule requiring dunk contestants to be in their first three NBA years made sense in hindsight.