บท 47: Chapter 47: Merry Christmas
The looming presence of the Denver Nuggets was hard to ignore. Even during the Rockets' regular coaching meetings, the assistants couldn't help but worry. The upcoming schedule was grueling, with two games against the Nuggets packed into one week right after Christmas.
"Well, guys, give your minds a break. Christmas is just around the corner," Andrew said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair.
His relaxed demeanor seemed to have a calming effect on the room. The coaches were reminded of why they trusted Andrew—he had led this team beyond anyone's expectations. With him at the helm, nothing seemed impossible.
After the meeting, the coaches were dismissed, enjoying a rare moment of respite before the holiday chaos ensued. Christmas in the U.S. carried a similar warmth and significance as Chinese New Year did back home.
"Andrew, are you spending Christmas alone?" Thibodeau asked, rising from his seat.
Andrew shook his head with a grin. "Nah, heading over to my aunt's place. Haven't been there in what feels like forever."
"Good, good," Thibodeau said, almost as if he was relieved that Andrew wasn't going to spend the holiday isolated. "Are you ready for Christmas?" he asked, concerned Andrew might be unfamiliar with some American traditions.
Andrew chuckled. "All set. Just waiting for Santa to knock on the door."
Thibodeau laughed heartily and gave Andrew a playful clap on the shoulder. "Merry Christmas, man," he said before heading out.
Andrew tidied up his things, ready to leave, but as he stepped outside, he spotted Yao Ming chatting with Thibodeau by the entrance. The towering center spotted Andrew and made his way over.
"Coach, Merry Christmas," Yao said with his signature easygoing smile.
"Merry Christmas, big fella," Andrew replied, matching his enthusiasm.
"Coach, got any plans for lunch? I'm inviting the whole team and staff to Yao Restaurant. Thought we could all enjoy a good meal together." Yao's eyes twinkled with excitement.
"Count me in," Andrew said.
Yao Restaurant was a fan-favorite, especially since it was co-owned by Yao's parents. On Christmas Eve, the lines were already snaking outside the door, but Yao being Yao, had reserved the best seats in the house for his team. As soon as they arrived, they were escorted straight into the restaurant's largest private room.
Soon after they sat down, an array of traditional Chinese dishes flooded the table. Braised prawns, chicken roasted shredded meat, crabmeat lion's head, spiced smoked fish, brine shrimp, and Feng Ba Ba duck—this feast had it all.
For many of the team members, this was their first time experiencing authentic Chinese food. Naturally, hilarity ensued as they attempted to wield chopsticks, Spanoulis being the worst offender, eventually giving up and grabbing a fork. The team roared with laughter, the bond between them growing stronger with every bite.
Midway through the meal, Yao Ming himself carried out a large platter filled with over twenty bowls of wonton soup. "This is my mother's recipe," he said proudly. "She made these herself, and I added a little something special for everyone to try."
The players erupted in cheers at the announcement. There was something uniquely heartwarming about the gesture, and the team dug into the homemade wontons with gusto. Even Andrew, who hadn't had wonton soup since arriving in the States, found it a comforting taste of home, though the subtle seasoning suggested Yao's mother had a few secret tricks up her sleeve.
After the meal, McGrady winked at Millsap, who quickly dashed to the next room and returned with two enormous boxes.
"Hey, guys, I've got something for you," McGrady said, pulling out a sleek pair of headphones from one of the boxes. "Skullcandy's newest model. I've tried them myself, and the sound quality is incredible."
Skullcandy was a popular brand among NBA players. Though still new, it had built a reputation. The price tag on these headphones wasn't cheap either, around $200, but McGrady had generously bought one for each of his teammates. The team cheered as they received their gifts, their bond strengthened by the spirit of giving.
After the gift exchange, more players took turns presenting their own gifts, creating an atmosphere of camaraderie. Andrew couldn't help but feel proud of the team. There was something special about this group, something destined for greatness.
After the party, Andrew headed back to his aunt's house. She was practically family to him, treating him like a son ever since he arrived in the U.S. Though he hadn't seen her in half a year, the warmth in her welcome was as strong as ever.
"Oh my, you've lost weight! Is coaching in the NBA that hard?" she exclaimed, fussing over him the moment he stepped inside.
"Look at all that hair! You're going to end up like Jeff Van Gundy if you don't take better care of yourself!" she teased.
Andrew chuckled, savoring the familiarity of her nagging. He hadn't realized how much he missed this—being fussed over, feeling like he belonged somewhere. This was his family now.
That evening, the dining table was filled with Christmas favorites—roast turkey, salmon, prosciutto, gingerbread, and glasses of rich red wine. Andrew helped his aunt prepare everything, enjoying the process more than he expected. It wasn't just about eating; it was about creating those moments, those memories that made life sweet.
Later that night, they stood together on the balcony, watching as the city of Houston sparkled under the glow of Christmas lights.
"I haven't seen my parents this happy in a long time," Hathaway said softly, her gaze lingering on her family inside.
"Is that so?" Andrew responded, his voice gentle. He didn't know much about this family's past, but he was happy to be part of their present.
She nodded, her smile warm. "You've really changed, Andrew."
"People change. It's inevitable," Andrew replied, though he felt a twinge of guilt. She had no idea just how much he had changed—literally.
"You've become... better," she said, her words carrying more weight than she intended.
Just then, the sound of carolers drift
through the air, drawing their attention. A group of twenty or thirty people strolled down the street, singing Christmas carols as they knocked on doors, spreading holiday cheer. Two children burst from one of the houses, joining the carolers with infectious excitement.
Andrew and Hathaway watched in silence for a while, both lost in the moment. The warmth of the evening and the soft glow of the lights made Houston feel magical that night. For Andrew, it was a reminder of how far he'd come—not just as a coach, but as a person.
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