After a news conference on a preseason trip to his hometown of Shanghai, Yao Ming asked me a question on our drive back to the hotel: Would I like to see where he grew up?

“Absolutely,” I told him.

This was October of 2003. As the new head coach of the Houston Rockets, I had only been on the job for a few months. Along with Tracy McGrady, Yao was our franchise cornerstone, a No. 1 overall pick in the 2002 NBA draft who, at 7-foot-6, had the skill and drive and temperament to be an MVP candidate every season.

At this time, we were still in the early stages to building a relationship. For starters, this preseason trip to China educated me quickly about the responsibility and pressure that he carried from the Far East. People rocked our bus outside the arenas. Everywhere we went in the country, they flooded us. What I noticed immediately, though: Yao was never flustered. He never lost his poise or his patience. The public Yao was the private Yao: To his core, there was an unmistakable peace to him.

So the driver of the van steered us to Yao’s elementary school, and he and I walked onto the playground. “Right there,” he told me, pointing to the ground. “That’s the dot where I stood for attendance every day.”

We drove to his childhood home, a modest walk-up of seven or eight floors. His old neighbors rushed toward him, young and old. To watch Yao, especially with the elderly folks there, the way he engaged them, is an image that never left me. There was such a warm, mutual caring between them. He wasn’t Yao Ming, the superstar basketball player. He was Yao Ming, the young kid that they had helped raise together.

As great of a player as Yao was, he was kind and patient with everybody. He wasn’t trying to feed an image, or cultivate a brand, or manipulate a public persona. There is a goodness about Yao that is unique, that never left him through all the pain and injuries and disappointments that accompanied his unprecedented accomplishments and successes.

I have heard some people disparaging Yao’s credentials for enshrinement into the Hall of Fame, and it bothers me. Yes, I know there are important factors beyond his shortened playing career – the bridge he built to the Far East for the NBA, the massive impact he’s had on growing the game’s popularity and finances. That’s all part of the induction, yes, but no one should lose sight of this fact: Outside of Shaq, Yao Ming was the best center in the world.

Yao Ming boxes out Chris Webber during Yao’s rookie season. (Getty) More

The difference between Shaq and Yao was much smaller than the gap that Yao created between himself and the next best center, Dwight Howard. Go back and watch those games, study the stats: It was complete and utter domination.

This isn’t to knock Howard, who has had a tremendous career. But Yao was clearly better. Yao’s size, his post game, his free-throw shooting made him nearly impossible to guard – and Howard was a three-time NBA Defensive Player of the Year.

Yao was getting a bad whistle on a nightly basis too, which was often overlooked. When Yao had a major knee injury in the 2006-07 season, I believe he was on his way to becoming the regular-season MVP. He was averaging 26.8 points, 9.7 rebounds and 2.3 blocks. Truth be told, Yao Ming was toying with the league.

Sometimes, people forget how difficult walking into the NBA had been for Yao. All around the NBA, there was resentment toward him. Maybe it was the hype. Maybe it was something else. But plenty of people openly mocked and ridiculed him and it could’ve broken a lesser spirit. Even within his own Rockets locker room, Yao’s arrival wasn’t met with completely open arms. Some of the best players on the team had openly lobbied for the Rockets to draft [someone else].

Before long, though, Yao won over the locker room with his personality, his talent and his work ethic.

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