Champion Rules

Chapter 160, Section 156: Let Mira ride on your shoulders and watch the champagne rain down (Seeking monthly votes!)
Back in New York, Lynch found the city ready to celebrate the championship.

New York fans chanted "Back2Back" to celebrate the title defense, and they have dubbed the start of Game 6 "Championship Day."

City Hall has contacted the Knicks to discuss the route and planning for this year's championship parade.

From the starting point of the revelry at Rockefeller Center to the champagne fountain at the end of Central Park, every detail proclaims the city's determination to claim the crown.

287 media outlets from 36 countries set up positions at Madison Square Garden, their telephoto lenses like hawks aiming at their prey, waiting to capture the epic moment when Lynch's fingertips touched the golden cup.

Every inch of air in this steel jungle is filled with restless energy.

This demonstrates Lynch's immense influence.

This overwhelming expectation transformed into invisible pressure, enveloping Lynch in an even more suffocating encirclement than the Spurs' defense.

Because these surging roars can be both the salute of a coronation ceremony and, in the instant of defeat, a tsunami that could overthrow a dynasty.

If Game 6 fails to end the series, all the glory we have now will turn into a raging inferno.

Lynch certainly wouldn't complain about these pressures; as a superstar, these are things he should bear.

And sometimes, when I think about how LBJ could withstand the pressure and announce his decision on live television, and how he could so confidently say during his first appearance in Miami that there were more than one or two, Lynch suddenly felt that all the pressure he was facing was nothing.

You have to admit, in some ways, LBJ is indeed a pillar of strength for star players.

The Knicks were considered strong contenders for the Game 6 trophy, but the team, fresh from their return to New York, received devastating news.

After a thorough examination and evaluation, the Knicks confirmed that Grant Hill had suffered a severe ankle sprain.

Grant Hill, who went to Canada for expert evaluation after being sidelined for the rest of last season due to injury, already knew very well that the only way for him to play healthy games was to strictly control his playing time.

Grant Hill has spent 90% of the season as a substitute, so he is very healthy.

However, in the past five games, Grant Hill has played an important role in the team, playing more than 35 minutes in each game.

This caused his fragile ankles to begin to bear the strain.

With only two games left in the season, Grant Hill will definitely have to wait until next season to continue playing.

After learning of Grant Hill's test results, Lynch immediately called him. Of course, he wouldn't ask him to force a comeback, but simply comforted him, saying, "Remember to prepare your most handsome suit. You can't lose to those lads at the championship parade."

Grant Hill on the other end of the phone gave a wry smile: "I'd rather be on the court in a sweat-soaked jersey."

After hanging up the phone, Grant Hill sat on the sofa, staring blankly at the screen of his phone, which was now completely dark.

He knew that Lynch only said that because he didn't want to put pressure on his teammates or make them feel guilty.

Attending the awards ceremony? The Spurs aren't that easy to deal with.

One thing Grant Hill can be sure of is that if he is unable to play, the Spurs' wings can provide unrestricted help defense and interference against Lynch.

This will significantly reduce the Knicks' offensive efficiency.

Grant Hill doesn't consider himself a particularly great guy, and he's not saying the Knicks definitely can't win a championship without him. It's just that Lynch would certainly have an easier time on offense if he were there.

Since they can't clear the wing for Lynch, the Knicks will have to compete with the Spurs on defense if they want to win.

Although the defending champions' ironclad defense is equally reliable, when the match becomes a defensive battle where every inch of ground is contested, every round could be the straw that breaks the camel's back.

Lin Qi didn't have to fight so hard.

He was under immense pressure; if he couldn't win G6, public opinion would ruin him.

This was not what Grant Hill wanted; he didn't want to leave when Lynch needed him most.

Grant Hill looked up and glanced at the championship-signed ball.

He was thinking about something, something of utmost importance.

As dusk fell, Tamia Hill, who was six months pregnant, insisted on putting on an apron and cooking a comforting meal for her husband in the kitchen.

She hoped he would feel better; since the medical report ruled Hill out for the season, he had been sitting silently by the window all day.

Looking at the steaming creamy shrimp and maple syrup ribs on the table, he finally relaxed his furrowed brow.

Tamia smiled, proving that her efforts had not been in vain.

“Don’t bother, darling,” he said, gently stroking his wife’s slightly protruding belly and helping her to sit down in the candlelit dining chair. “I just need to process this fact. You don’t need to worry about me like this.”

“Not at all tired, your smile is better than anything, Grant.”

Their conversation didn't sound like that of an old married couple at all.

It didn't resemble the kind of conversation one would expect between a Black basketball star and his wife.

He and his wife have always had a good relationship, and since they met in 1999, there have been almost no unpleasant news reports about them.

They got along very well, resonated deeply on a spiritual level, and shared the same interests.

When the singer's wife hummed impromptu, the husband's long, slender fingers danced across the black and white piano keys, automatically creating a perfect harmony.

This resonance is enough to show that life isn't something you can just spend time with anyone.

But the symphony of destiny is not just about brilliant movements, and their relationship is not solely based on shared interests.

As is widely known, Grant Hill suffered a fatal wound infection after undergoing his fourth ankle surgery in March 2003, which flared up with staphylococcal infection. Tamia turned down all work to care for her husband, even having a falling out with her record company. Tamia, however, remained unfazed, stating that family always came first in her heart.

The following summer, a diagnosis of multiple muscular sclerosis abruptly reversed his roles. Grant Hill, who had just recovered from a sports injury, transformed into the most professional nurse. His figure, studying medical literature, was often seen on the hospital room wall at three in the morning, and his hands massaging his wife were even gentler than when he was pitching a ball.

Under Hill's meticulous care, Tamia also recovered her health. They were a truly exemplary couple, truly sharing weal and woe.

At this moment, the silver cutlery on the table reflects two faces that are no longer young. Time has long since tempered their youthful love into a bond that needs no words.

Tamia placed her palm on the back of her husband's hand. They knew that, just as they had overcome life-or-death trials before, they would eventually reach the other side of light by supporting each other.

“It’s nothing, Grant,” Tamia reassured the man in front of him. “You’ve done enough this season. Lynch won’t blame you, and the New York fans won’t blame you. Besides, you have to believe in your teammates. You will win the championship.”

Grant Hill's five-year-old daughter tugged at her father's hand: "Daddy, when are we going to have the championship parade? Can you get Lynch to stand on the double-decker bus and carry me high on his shoulders again? When he did that last year, it felt like I could go all over New York!"

At that moment, the news on television, oblivious to the sentimentality, shattered this heartwarming moment.

Stephen A. Smith's voice echoed through the living room: "Losing Grant is a huge loss for the Knicks. The Knicks have never been favored by Lady Luck. We've lost two important wings since the start of the Conference Finals! Trevor and Grant are both on the injury list right now, so the next game will be tough. Of course I believe in Lynch, and I just hope that if he doesn't finish the game in Game 6, people won't blame him."

Tamia picked up the remote and turned off the TV. Grant Hill's smile gradually froze. He squeezed his wife's hand and stroked his eldest daughter's head and the unborn second child in his wife's belly.

"Honey, there's something I want to discuss with you."

"what's up?"

“I plan to retire after this season,” Grant Hill said, unconsciously looking up at the living room light.

Are you sure? What made you make this decision?

“I can’t keep going like this, constantly wallowing in injuries. It hurts the team, it hurts myself, and it makes you all worry all the time. When I was in a coma in 03, I know you cried and read the Book of Job to me every day. Honestly, I don’t want to keep you all living in fear. I think it’s better if we spend more time together in the future.”

Since joining the Magic in 2000, Grant Hill has only played two relatively healthy seasons up to 2007.

It's only relatively healthy.

His first healthy season was in 04-05. He was released by the Magic and joined the rebuilding Big Apple, where he met the number 20 who would change his career.

But at that time, in the Eastern Conference Finals, Grant Hill was unable to help Lynch go any further.

The Knicks finally won the championship last season, but Grant Hill's role in the game was no longer as prominent.

In this season's Finals, he finally had the ability to help Lynch lift the trophy, but then he suffered an injury.

Lynch kept saying he was very grateful to him, but looking back over the past three years, Grant Hill didn't feel that he had helped Lynch much.

This time, no matter what, he was going to help Lin Qi.

His wife nodded: "Whatever decision you make, Grant, I will support you."

“Me too, Dad!” Mira Grace Hill replied earnestly.

Grant Hill smiled with satisfaction, but his gaze quickly returned to his wife's eyes.

"Before I retire, there is one last thing I have to do."

"what's up?"

"I have to play in Game 6 of the Finals! I can't abandon my teammates! I can't. I absolutely can't abandon Lynch!"

Tamia's eyes revealed astonishment. She knew that ever since her husband's injury-plagued career with the Pistons led to his rapid decline and eventual abandonment by the team, never playing while injured had become his bottom line.

Even last season, Grant Hill didn't cross that line.
Therefore, she was surprised by her husband's decision.

Grant Hill gave a reassuring smile: "This is different from what happened in Detroit. This time, no one will abandon me. This time, I will become part of the New York legend!"

Tamia watched as her husband's battered body was supported by something more eternal—not tendons or bones, but the dome of trust that he and Number 20 had built together over the past three years.
-
The following day, at the Greenburg training center, Lynch's silver Porsche 911 appeared on time in its designated parking spot.

He greeted all the staff, pushed open the locker room door, and prepared to begin a new day of training.

But to Lynch's surprise, Grant Hill was also there.

"Grant?"

As a player already out for the season, Grant Hill doesn't need to come to practice because even if he did, he wouldn't be able to do anything.

Good morning, Lynch.

"Good morning? What are you doing here?"

Stephen Mab stood up with a grave expression: "Lynch, Grant is preparing..."

“Stephen!” Grant Hill interrupted Marbury. “I’ll tell him myself.”

Stephon Marbury nodded and said nothing more.

Lynch could roughly guess what it was about. Sure enough, Grant Hill spoke up: "I plan to play in Game 6 with painkillers. My season isn't over yet."

“I disagree,” Lynch’s voice was like a blade chilled by ice. His decisive answer was exactly what everyone expected. “I told Trevor to rest and recover properly, and you’re playing with an injury? What kind of bullshit decision do you think that is? Besides, you know the cost of painkillers. You know how the Detroit Pistons treated you back then.”

"It doesn't matter, this is my last season. Trevor, that kid has a long career ahead of him, of course he needs to rest. But it's different for me, I'm not playing next season, I have absolutely no need to rest. There won't be a number 33 jersey in the locker room next season, but the second championship banner of the new century must be hung under the dome of Madison Square Garden!"

"What did you say!?"

Grant Hill swore that this was the first time in three years he had seen such a look of astonishment on Lynch's face.

"I'm not playing next season. This is my last season. I don't want to quit halfway through. I don't want to have any regrets. Damn it, let me finish this Finals standing up! The infection in 2003 didn't kill me, and neither can the San Antonio Spurs!"

Grant Hill's gaze was unwavering. After a few seconds of silence, he smiled and patted Lynch on the shoulder, his palm leaving a warm imprint of promise on Lynch's shoulder.

"Can you promise me one thing? On the day of the championship parade, let Mila ride on your shoulders to watch the champagne rain, just for a little while. That girl always says that on the double-decker bus during the championship parade, only by riding on Uncle Lynch's shoulders can you see the most beautiful scenery in all of New York."

(End of this chapter)