In the first quarter, the Glory Team used defensive strategy, plus Kobe's recklessness, to seize control of the score.

Angered by Kobe's elbow, Gan Guoyang scored in succession and opened up a small gap, but Kobe gradually found his rhythm and led the Trail Blazers' counterattack.

After the tentative shootout in the first quarter, both sides gradually settled into the game.

In the second quarter, the Trail Blazers' bench unit played better and they regained the advantage.

Gan Guoyang's "last legacy," Michael Redd, has already made great progress this season.

From a nobody who averaged 3 points a game last season, this year he has suddenly become an 11-points-per-game key scorer off the bench, an excellent perimeter shooter at the two and three spots.

This season his three-point percentage has reached 44%. His quick, precise left-handed three-point release makes Portland fans easily think of Chris Mullin.

The Glory Team's starters are young, but their bench is too old. Once they got into December, the veterans started entering their loafing phase again—because Christmas is coming.

Fortunately, the young players have not yet hit the rookie wall, but the constant travel back and forth is rapidly draining their stamina and form.

The Trail Blazers used the stretch between lineups to overtake the score; when Gan Guoyang checked back in, the Trail Blazers were up 26–22, leading the Glory Team by 4.

Both teams' point totals were quite low; the pace of the game was heavily suppressed and both sides' shooting percentages weren't high.

Once the starters returned, the two teams traded baskets, the score twisting and turning.

Gan Guoyang and Kobe were both playing very smart and restrained, secretly competing yet focusing more on their teams.

At the end of the second quarter, the Trail Blazers led the Glory Team 45–42, up by 3. This game probably won't be a high-scoring one for either side.

When Gan Guoyang went to the bench to rest and walked through the players' tunnel, the fans erupted again, some even showering him with flower petals.

The Trail Blazers fans on site felt both delighted and emotionally conflicted about Gan Guoyang's return.

The more seasoned fans, however, noticed that Gan Guoyang's playing style had changed a lot.

To put it simply, Ah Gan's on-court presence had diminished.

When he played for the Trail Blazers, fans simply couldn't take their eyes off Ah Gan.

Not just because of his skin color and looks, but because of his omnipresent, omnipotent impact at both ends, along with his explosive, ferocious playing style—especially early on, when he was a born spotlight, the brightest guy on the stage.

On TV screens whose resolution still wasn't very high at the time, Ah Gan was always the most eye-catching one, so he fully deserved the title "God of Ratings."

But in the first half of this game, even though Gan Guoyang put up 15 points, 8 rebounds, and 4 assists, the fans clearly felt that Ah Gan wasn't that dazzling anymore.

He hid himself more within the Glory Team's collective, playing as a team guy—passing, cutting, facilitating.

He cut down on low-post isolations, shortened his time on the ball, and no longer forced attacks through two or three defenders.

His offensive rhythm was softer and more even, rather than like a raging storm flipping the opponent's boat in a short burst.

Even his dunk over Ben Wallace seemed rather gentle—because he's no longer that 270-plus-pound strongman of the NBA.

At halftime, on Turner Television, commentator Charles Barkley summed up Gan Guoyang's performance and said, "I'll tell you, Sonny right now doesn't play much like his old self. At 37 he looks way softer! Way too soft. In the first quarter Kobe elbowed him and he didn't even knock Kobe's teeth out with one punch! Time has made Sonny weak! Now he looks just like Larry Bird—maybe just a tiny bit tougher than Larry."

Since Gan Guoyang couldn't hear him anyway, Barkley went bold on the mic, and Turner Television's ratings soared thanks to his commentary.

This Glory vs. Trail Blazers matchup was a marquee game, so Turner Television had to send the outspoken Barkley into battle.

Ever since 1981, when Gan Guoyang played in the California high school league, his games have always been in a ratings tier of their own.

To the point that later, when broadcasters, event organizers, and sponsors discussed contracts, Ah Gan's games had to be separated out and calculated on their own.

These days Kobe is already an undisputed megastar—when he goes to McDonald's to eat, tons of people rush up just to shake his hand—but his influence is still not on the same level as Ah Gan's.

During halftime in the locker room, Gan Guoyang and Tomjanovich discussed the team's offensive issues.

Tomjanovich suggested that Gan Guoyang operate more along both baselines, an area he rarely went to in the past.

He started out as a mid-lane War God, then extended to the 45-degree areas, and then out to the top of the arc and beyond the three-point line.

The two corners were usually where role players parked themselves, and apart from a stretch (1988–1992) when Gan Guoyang heavily used the zero-degree midrange as a go-to weapon, he spent little time there.

Tomjanovich's suggestion was based on two reasons: first, it could conserve his energy while exploiting his deadly midrange; second, it would leave more of the front for the young players to work, to gain experience.

Take Brad Miller for example—he's very good at facilitating from the high post.

And Arenas and Gerald Wallace—they can all use those spots up front to learn how to break down defenses, organize, and control the game.

Gan Guoyang agreed with Tomjanovich's idea; since he'd said he wanted to develop the youngsters, he couldn't just pay lip service.

But Gan Guoyang added, "Tonight I'm back home—can you give me a few more chances in that corner, swing the ball to me more?"

Tomjanovich said, "Oh, of course, Sonny. I know—you've got to teach that Kobe kid a little lesson."