Champion Rules

Chapter 264: We've arrived! (Seeking monthly votes!)
The Detroit Pistons' century-defining defeat, which dominated global headlines, will become one of the biggest jokes in NBA history.

From the three giants' frenzied celebration under the spotlight like gods descending, to their arrogant declarations that it wasn't just one or two.

This "super battleship" has touted itself as a winner since the very beginning.

In addition, the hostility of the media and fans towards the Pistons has reached an unprecedented level.

Apart from their predecessors, the Bad Boys of the 80s, no team has ever been so disliked by outsiders.

Aside from a small but loyal Detroit native, they are seen by fans around the world as the ultimate shadow in the basketball universe that must be condemned.

Therefore, when they collapse, the impact is enormous.

This even creates a sense of unrealistic expectation that "the season is already over."

After all, the biggest villains have already been defeated.

But the New York Knicks themselves cannot have this idea; they must crush this fatal sense of complacency in its cradle.

As Stephen A. Smith said on ESPN:

"For New York, the Pistons, their arch-rival, is a competitor with huge traffic."

Its corpse is enough to nourish all the media, but it can't get the Knicks to raise the championship banner at Madison Square Garden.

The Los Angeles Lakers are the toughest opponent.

The Lakers are more like a team than the Pistons.

The Lakers are closer to the championship than the Pistons.

They may no longer be so young, but they are a killing machine, driven by Kobe Bryant's iron will, its gears meshed perfectly.

Yes, it's not over yet; Lynch still has an even stronger opponent to face.

As for the Detroit Pistons...

Before their next challenge against Lynch, they may experience a major upheaval within their organization.

The day after the Eastern Conference Finals, in the hospital, LeBron James looked on in disbelief at the league fining him.

He habitually spread his hands out:

"I got beaten up and ended up in the hospital, and now I have to pay a fine? Damn Reebok Alliance!"

Standing to the side, Rich Paul looked at LBJ, unsure of what to say.

He can't exactly say, "Your fine has nothing to do with Reebok; it's purely because you went too far."

Why did he stand on his tiptoes?
Why deliberately play so badly?
Why give up on yourself?

As a friend and close business partner, Rich Paul didn't want to upset LeBron James.

He's already had it bad enough.

So he kept all these questions to himself.

He decided to change the subject for now: "LeBron, what are your plans for this summer? Are we going to opt out of our contracts? Are we going to re-sign with the Detroit Pistons? If we're going to leave, where are we going? I have a few options, but I'd like to hear your thoughts."

LeBron James propped himself up and sat up in bed.

"We opt out of the contract and then sign a 1+1 contract with the Detroit Pistons, keeping the initiative in our hands forever."

He was very confident, but Rich Paul had no idea where his confidence came from.

"LeBron, I want you to know. This time, we blew it."

“Yes,” LBJ said with an unexpectedly relaxed expression, “We messed up this time, but that’s why the Detroit Pistons have to make changes. From management to coaches to the locker room, they all have to revolve around me!”

Rich Paul paused for a moment.

Five points in a single game, with you as the core player?
That's it, he's done for. LBJ didn't get his brains splattered, but he definitely lost a lot of his IQ!

LBJ doesn't expect Rich Paul to understand his moves; the idea of ​​releasing five points of power is, after all, a brilliant but overly advanced concept.

He didn't want to explain too much right now, because thinking too much would bring on that nauseating dizziness.

He waved his hand: "I want to rest, Paul. Anyway, let's talk like I said, let's talk like I said."

Just like in the original timeline, LeBron James hopes to force Carmelo Anthony to relinquish his power through what he believes to be a clever approach.

No matter how time and space change, no matter how the basketball world is restructured, LeBron James will always be LeBron James.

But with two championships under his belt, and having forged an iron will in Detroit, Carmelo Anthony may not be the same as Dwyane Wade.

After all, Dwyane Wade's mental processing speed is truly exceptional, a once-in-a-century phenomenon.

Not everyone is as good as him.

Meanwhile, the Western Conference Finals are still raging.

Trailing 1-3, the San Antonio Spurs rallied at Staples Center to snatch a victory in Game 6 from the jaws of defeat.

Manu Ginobili, who scored 16 points, was the Spurs' fourth-best player. Like a demonic sword that was tempered and unsheathed at the end of the night, he scored 12 points in the final quarter, carving a bloody abyss into the heart of the Lakers.

With 18 points and 11 rebounds, Yao Ming was the Spurs' third-best player. His consistent output and defense in the low post laid an indestructible foundation for the Spurs.

Tim Duncan, with 22 points, 8 rebounds, and 7 assists, was the Spurs' second-best player. His all-around performance and skillful high-post playmaking revitalized the entire team.

The Spurs' best player is a point guard.

That's right, it's Tony Parker.

His counterpart is Jason Kidd.

In this do-or-die game, he broke a historical record for the Spurs—becoming the first player in NBA history to play more than 30 minutes in the Western Conference Finals without scoring 0 points.

His key performance was a major reason why the Spurs were able to defeat Staples Center.

With the series score now 3-2, the Spurs have brought the suspense back to the AT&T Center.

In an interview, Yao Ming reiterated: "We haven't reached the finish line yet. I did say that if I could beat Lynch and win the championship, I would retire immediately. So, that's our finish line. We still have to keep going."

On the other side of the court, Jason Kidd silently glanced at the Spurs players' volcanic eruption of ecstasy and sighed.

His performance today, judging from advanced stats, wasn't actually that bad. He perfectly fulfilled his defensive duties and made no mistakes in playmaking.

He scored 0 points, not only because he missed the shot, but also because he only took 4 shots the entire game.

He still felt guilty, though, because if he had just capitalized on those two open three-pointers, the Lakers would have advanced to the Finals.

Kobe Bryant walked over to him, without blaming him, but simply patted his bald head in comfort.

"Sorry, man, I messed up." Jason Kidd took the blame.

"No, Jason, you didn't mess anything up. Everyone has their responsibilities on this team. Your responsibility is defense, and to help us with your experience."

And in those respects, you did a great job tonight. Every defensive play, every pass you made brought us closer to the championship.”

"Damn, that's the truth!" Kevin Garnett chimed in, his rough arms wrapping around both of their shoulders at the same time.

He grinned, as if the Lakers had won tonight: "It doesn't matter. In the scumbags' lair of San Antonio, right under their own noses, we'll plant the tombstone of victory in the AT&T Center floor. I guarantee it'll taste a million times sweeter than honey!"

The shadow of defeat did not cast a rift of suspicion and blame among the Lakers' Big Three.

They chose to use their unwavering unity, like ironclad armor, to tear apart the dark curtain of defeat.

Yes, they may no longer possess the vibrant youth of the former super Pistons.

Yes, their record isn't as impressive as the Pistons'.

This season, only Kobe Bryant was selected to the All-NBA Team.

But as Stephen A. Smith said, they are a better team.

In Game 6 of the Western Conference Finals, Kevin Garnett achieved his goal, driving the tombstone of victory deep into the floor of the AT&T Center.

Jason Kidd bounced back strongly tonight, combining with Kobe and KG for 70 points!
Kobe Bryant played 38 minutes and scored 34 points.

Kevin Garnett scored 28 points in 35 minutes of play.

Jason Kidd played 28 minutes and scored 1680 seconds.

Despite this, Jason Kidd managed to shut down Manu Ginobili in the fourth quarter.

Gregg Popovich got angry as Manu Ginobili missed several jump shots in a row.

Gregg Popovich was devastated when he saw Manu Ginobili's bounce pass hit Tayshaun Prince in the backside!
I told you to bounce the ball, not to pass it by hitting your butt!

Jason Kidd used his outstanding defense, which surpassed the statistics, to stifle any possibility of Manu Ginobili launching a comeback in the fourth quarter.

The game ended with the Los Angeles Lakers narrowly defeating their old rivals, the Spurs, and advancing to the NBA Finals for the third consecutive season.

Yao Ming, unusually angry, smashed a bottle of water that a staff member handed him.

Manu Ginobili's eyes were glazed over; this season has been far too difficult for him.

Tony Parker wiped his sweat; he felt they still had a chance, and this wasn't the end.

Tim Duncan quietly stepped off the court, hoping for a comeback.

Kevin Garnett, like an old warrior leaning on his sword on a battlefield strewn with corpses, stood alone with his arms on his hips on the scorched earth of the AT&T Center, where the smoke of battle had not yet cleared.

His gaze swept over the gray crowd in the stands, soaked in despair, but deep down he felt no surge of the revenge he had expected, nor did he taste a sweetness a thousand times greater than honey.

It's not that victory isn't sweet enough, but that true victory is yet to come.

The marks of time at 34 years old, like rust, are quietly eroding his strong frame.

This season, injuries have started to plague him more and more frequently.

His scoring average dropped to 14.3 points, his rebounds dropped to only 7.3 per game, and his blocks dropped to 0.8 per game.

These are all his lowest values ​​since his rookie season—his blocks are even fewer than in his rookie season.

He was more clear-headed than anyone else. The remaining strength in his body at this moment was on a completely different level compared to the warrior who stood proudly at the peak two years ago, kissing the Larry O'Brien Trophy amidst a shower of confetti.

A cruel realization, like an ice pick piercing his bone: his championship window is slowly closing with every heavy breath he takes. Because it's not just him who's aging, but also Kidd, Kobe, and even Phil Jackson.

Everyone is etched with the sighs of time.

This is a team that is already in its twilight years, so how can a fierce breakthrough in the Western Conference Finals irrigate a true fountain of joy?

They must seize every opportunity to win the championship.

After all, I'm this age now.

You never know if this will be your last chance.

They beat the San Antonio Spurs and took down the league's most suffocating legendary twin towers.

But the true ultimate purgatory has only just begun to tear open the entrance to the burning inferno.

Next, they must defeat the New York Knicks.

Defeat that contemporary myth that scatters its invincible light across the heavens!

Kevin Garnett is unsure if this is his last chance to challenge Lynch.

Therefore, he had no choice but to give it his all every second.

A CCTV reporter walked up to him and spoke to him in fluent English.

"Kevin, you're about to challenge the New York Knicks. What would you like to say to your good friend Lynch?"

Kevin Garnett leans closer to the camera, the last trace of gentleness in his eyes instantly replaced by savage bestiality:
"Sorry, Chinese fans, I love you all very much. But until the Finals are over and the Larry O'Brien Trophy is decided, Lynch and I are not friends."
-
Minneapolis, 2002.

On a snowy winter night, the cold was biting.

26-year-old Kevin Garnett sat like a statue on the iron chair in the very center of the target center, his fists clenched.

His unfocused gaze fell on the opposite half of the field, which was 14.32 meters long and 15.24 meters wide.

No one has ever been able to single-handedly guard that enormous rectangle that determines destiny.

Even he, a young man considered a super genius, could not do it.

So they kept losing.

They lost 1-3 to the Spurs in the first round of last season's playoffs, and another number 21 made him a sacrifice.

After regrouping, he thought this year would be better. But six months ago, they were swept 3-0 by another Texas team, the Dallas Mavericks, whose number 41 from Würzburg, Germany, humiliated him.

A profound sense of frustration permeated the empty arena like a black fog, enveloping him layer by layer.

Across from him, Georgetown University's legendary coach, now a reporter for TNT, John Thompson, was seriously asking him:
"Tear off the mask, Kevin. How is your health really? How sore are your muscles? Just how exhausted are you?"

At that moment, they were conducting an interview inside the Target Center. The two of them, in an empty stadium, with a camera, John Thompson facing Kevin Garnett.

Facing a veteran coach known for his toughness, who had nurtured players like Patrick Ewing, Dikembe Mutombo, and Alonzo Mourning, Kevin Garnett tried his best to project a tough-guy image:

"I'm exhausted, John. I'm exhausted. I'm exhausted."

He said the word three times in a row, as if he had exhausted all his strength but could not find a more accurate word to describe this double ruin of soul and body.

John Thompson continued, "You were double-teamed, triple-teamed. Every possession you were tackled, entangled, and there was no one to relieve the pressure on you. Tell me honestly, facing this desperate onslaught and this ineffective team, didn't you ever think about surrendering?"

"Every night, every time I fight, every time I go into battle, the wounds, the pain—all of these plague me."

John Thompson chuckled and made his judgment about the guy in front of him—he was a coward, just like most people thought he was.

Look at him, listen to these cries!

I had only asked casually, but he started complaining and wailing everywhere.

He'll definitely cry.

John Thompson had a feeling that this softie, who was in a slump, would definitely cry his eyes out on camera tonight.

But then, the young man suddenly changed his tone, his voice rising abruptly:

"But none of that matters! Whether I'm 100% healthy or 30% healthy, those are just bullshit numbers to me!"

What matters is my heart. As long as I can still crawl into this battlefield, I will fight to the last drop of my heart. This is something that numbers cannot measure.

But I kept losing, kept suffering defeats.

As Kevin Garnett spoke, he suddenly looked up, the blinding flash of the spotlight scorching the bewilderment deep in his eyes.

Then, as if having exhausted his last bit of courage to fight the light, he slumped down and buried his head deep in the ground.

"This isn't golf, nor is it a Wimbledon tennis match. Victory is never about individual statistics, but about our entire team."

The point isn't my data; I'm just doing my part.

But aside from the data, I couldn't do anything else. I couldn't lead the team to victory; I wasn't a good leader.

You know, we also have many good rebounders and good guards, no worse than any championship contender.

But I... simply because I'm not good enough.

Damn it, I…

As Kevin Garnett spoke, he made a throat-slitting gesture towards the camera.

It means to cut this part out.

Because then, just as John Thompson had predicted, Kevin Garnett cried.

Lava, brimming with humiliation, resentment, anger, and guilt, burst forth from Kevin Garnett's tightly closed eyes.

He tried hard to hold back, but tears still streamed down his face.

He tried to control his emotions: "No. I don't like to show my emotions; it makes you look weak."

John Thompson looked at the weeping young man before him, his earlier contempt vanishing.

Yes, the lone wolf was indeed moved to tears.

But I didn't cry because "I don't have good teammates," nor because "Look, I've put in so much effort but I still can't win."

He didn't complain like a nagging, complaining woman.

He was more like an angry god trapped in a transparent cage, repeatedly cutting his own not-so-sharp wings with his tear-stained blade.

The only target of his vehement criticism was himself, even though his shoulders had long been crushed and bleeding from the heavy burden.

John Thompson's hands, heavy as cast iron, pressed down on KG's trembling shoulders! His gaze, once filled with disdain, had vanished.
"Child, do you think that showing scars in the face of blood and fire is weakness? No, it is actually a sign of strength!"

You're demonstrating your courage, and that really impressed me.

These are not the tears of a loser, but the tears of your respect for victory.

If you want to vent your emotions, we can have a fight right here.

"It's alright, you don't need to worry about this old man getting hurt. I can get Patrick to take the punch for me with just one phone call."

Kevin Garnett was amused, and the two chatted for a long time afterward. KG talked about why he was willing to stay in Minneapolis and why he felt heartbroken over every defeat.

Finally, John Thompson gave a summary to the camera.

“Starting tonight, I must respect KG. I admit that prejudice led me to misjudge his true nature. But in fact, he is a tougher person than people imagine.”

He just doesn't like to lose; he's just afraid of failure.

But he was a true man, a saint who knew how to build a temple of victory with the blood and flesh of his team.

One day, this heart, tempered in the crucible of setbacks, will surely be forged into the soul of an outstanding leader.

I believe he can, I absolutely believe it.

Before Kevin Garnett's eyes, the heavy figure of John Thompson began to ripple.

Then, like an exposed film, it fades and dissolves.

He instinctively reached out to grab it, but the entire target center seemed to go dark as if the power had been cut off. Boundless, viscous darkness poured in like ink, instantly engulfing the entire world.

Immediately afterwards, he heard someone calling his name.

"Kevin, hey Kevin!"

Kevin Garnett suddenly opened his eyes.

The remnants of the 2002 blizzard have long since evaporated, and now it is the eve of the fierce battle for the 2010 finals.

He was no longer the green wolf king trapped in the Minnesota ice field; now, he was a locker room leader, adorned in purple and gold glory and forged through a thousand soul temperings.

This place is no longer the target center, but rather—

The King of New York, an impregnable fortress that has buried the bones of countless challengers!

His gaze pierced through the thick airplane window, every inch of the New York air burning with Lynch's supreme power.

The massive posters plastered all over the airport and the staff's eye-catching blue and orange number 20 jerseys were all silently shouting the same name, the same belief.

This guy, who was physiologically idiotic about failure and would cry because of it, took a deep breath.

A voice kept echoing in his mind: "We must not lose, we must not lose. Even if we are shattered to pieces, even if we sweat our last drop of sweat, we must not lose!"

Kobe Bryant, bringing him back to reality, slowly removed the Beats headphones covering his ears.

His gaze was unwavering, and not just his, but the entire Los Angeles Lakers team's gaze was unwavering.

You could tell from everyone's eyes that this was definitely not an easy opponent to deal with.

Kobe stared at Lynch's poster outside the window, then nudged KG's shoulder with his fist.

"Get ready to burn out completely, brother."

We've arrived!

(End of this chapter)