Champion Rules

Chapter 286, Part 282: Ever touched the Western Conference Finals floor? Useless! (Seeking monthly votes!)

While Sam Presti and James Dolan were discussing the $4200 gamble.

When Sam Presti sent a text message to Clippers general manager Neil Olshey expressing his desire for further negotiations.

(PS: Elgin Baylor is so iconic that I forgot he's no longer the Clippers' general manager; this has been corrected in the previous text.)
Chris Paul is yelling on the court:

"Lynch, give it a rest. You know you'll never surpass Michael, because you've never won a three-peat. You missed it last time, and I don't think you'll miss it this year either. Please, stop trying to emulate Michael. He's a real idol for us American kids, someone you can't compare to."

Chris Paul was having such a good time, and as a skilled ventriloquist, he would never remain silent in a situation like this.

His signature "winning strategy" involves using trash talk to apply pressure when he has the upper hand.

But Lynch is very good at dealing with ventriloquists.

Many young models tried everything to win over Lin Qi, but to no avail.

For anyone, regardless of gender, to think they can conquer the King of New York with their silver tongue is nothing short of a pipe dream.

Lynch never liked CP3. He had too many dirty tricks on the court, talked too much nonsense, and especially liked to flop.

Clearly, this behavior cannot be explained by the idea that "smaller players always have to use special means to protect themselves."

However, the New Orleans Hornets have been uncompetitive for many years, and Lynch has had no interest in the team.

Especially when Lynch learned that New Orleans didn't even sell New Orleans chicken wings, his interest in the city and the team waned even further.

Therefore, Lynch and CP3 have been practically strangers for the past few years.

However, today, their relationship is destined to take a dramatic turn.

Lynch chuckled and pointed to the stands: "What? Did you revoke the American citizenship of all these fans wearing my jerseys? Why isn't anyone wearing Michael's jersey?"

CP3 didn't respond; he needed to focus on defense.

After crossing half-court, Steve Nash passed the ball to DeMar DeRozan, who had a clear advantage over Italian defender Marco Belinelli.

After several fatal crotch-shaking movements, he suddenly pulled up and threw the ball backward like a precision-guided missile, which pierced the net!

Chris Paul immediately spread his hands and raised his voice at Lynch on the other end: "I fucking thought the King of New York was a tough guy who got things done, but it turns out he's just all talk and no action?"

CP3 mocked Lynch for not taking any action after he had just spouted trash talk.

But soon, CP3's smile froze.

When he called for another pick-and-roll from Amar'e Stoudemire, Lynch came over to guard him.

He switched with DeAndre Jordan on defense, and then he took over the pick-and-roll defense himself.

Chris Paul intended to wave Amar'e Stoudemire away and have David West run the pick-and-roll to avoid Lynch.

But men are creatures that cannot withstand provocation.

Lynch's whisper was like a venomous thorn piercing his eardrum, causing him to change his mind:

"You're not thinking of getting around me, are you, Chris?"

Chris Paul instantly abandoned the idea of ​​retreating. Without hesitation, he broke through after getting past Amar'e Stoudemire's screen.

But Lynch's defensive switch was indeed faster than DeAndre Jordan's, and he quickly blocked Chris Paul's jump shot space and driving route.

But CP3 isn't the kind of player who gets easily carried away.

Even if it's a bit embarrassing to not be able to score on Lynch himself, he won't choose to take a reckless shot.

Seeing Lynch come to block him, CP3 immediately passed the ball, and Amar'e Stoudemire, like a roaring tank, dribbled down the court and crushed into the penalty area.

But DeAndre Jordan quickly returned to the paint. Amar'e Stoudemire isn't the kind of player with wide passing vision, so he couldn't find David West immediately. Instead, he chose to smash a dunk over DeAndre Jordan!

At this time, Amar'e Stoudemire had not yet suffered his second major injury and was still the little tyrant who could split the mountain six times in three days.

He was confident that he could crush any defender who dared to stand in his way with a thunderous dunk.

But DeAndre Jordan is no longer the naive young man he once was; his defensive positioning and timing of his jumps are now impeccable.

In the air, two enormous figures collided like two runaway comets, the muffled thud of muscles and bones sounding like thunder rolling across the stadium!

"boom!--"

In the end, DeAndre Jordan failed to block the shot, but despite the fierce aerial confrontation, the little king's seemingly inevitable dunk slammed into the front of the rim and bounced out in a sorry state!
Lynch chased back into the paint, grabbed the ball, handed it to Steve Nash, and immediately helped up DeAndre Jordan, who had fallen: "Defense like this!"

The two immediately joined the attack. As Lynch passed by CP3, he spread his hands and said, "I thought you were a pragmatist too."

This time, Lynch did not back down.

He shook off David West with an off-the-ball movement and received a pass from the Wind Child on the right side of the mid-range.

The moment he received the ball, Trevor Ariza had already come to help defend.

The Hornets were willing to expose Italian Marco Belinelli to DeMar DeRozan's firepower precisely for this moment—to free up Trevor Ariza's sharp chain and bind Lynch tightly!

Trevor Ariza's defense remained excellent as always, with perfectly timed help defense.

Lynch's best course of action would have been to pass the ball to Wilson Chandler, but he didn't.

Facing David West, who was about to return, Lynch started to the left. Just as Trevor Ariza was about to make a steal, Lynch quickly pulled the ball to the right and turned and leaned back.

Trevor Ariza was too late to regain his balance and contest the shot, while David West was out of reach. Lynch created a chance for himself in the confined space, turning and sank a fadeaway jumper to tie the game!
Lynch slammed his powerful fist into his chest and roared at the Hornets' number 3: "Now, tell me, Chris, who the fucking braggart is?"

CP3 has fallen silent.

But those burning eyes silently proclaimed that his fighting spirit had not been extinguished; he was not the kind of person whose confidence was easily shaken.

In this round, he first passed the ball to Marco Belinelli, but Demar De Rozan stuck to him and didn't give the Italian cannon a chance to aim.

Left with no other option, the Italians passed the ball back to CP3.

CP3 passed the ball to David West in the low post, and the most cultured player in the NBA today used a beautiful back turn to break past DeAndre Jordan, but Jordan's footwork was faster than he expected.

DeAndre Jordan played with incredible energy tonight; he could feel his blood boiling like magma in his veins.

Tyson Chandler is gone; he doesn't see it as a victory.

He just felt he had to prove he deserved that starting position.

If Tyson Chandler can be a championship center, then I can be too. That's what a real victory is.

His desire to win has never been stronger than this season, as he strives to achieve his dream: "At least, to become a decent NBA starter."

Under the basket, David West used every trick in the book, employing footwork to feint and shake off defenders.

But DeAndre Jordan didn't budge an inch and didn't lose his position.

Patrick Ewing pumped his fist on the sidelines: "That's it, shut him down, he's done for!"

David West was a smart man, and he certainly knew that if he forced his way in, he would become a bloody victim.

So he passed the ball back to Chris Paul.

CP3 spreads out, preparing to take on Steve Nash one-on-one.

With a lightning-fast crossover dribble, Steve Nash was already torn apart and left behind.

Chris Paul stopped abruptly and took a shot.

Just as the ball was about to leave his hand, the owner of the number 20 jersey arrived in time once again, completely blocking his shooting vision and space!

Chris Paul had no choice but to switch from shooting to passing, tossing the ball in mid-air to Amar'e Stoudemire.

Just as the little tyrant was about to get the basketball, Wilson Chandler suddenly appeared in the passing lane and caught the ball!

Just now, CP3's passing intentions were so blatantly obvious!

The Hornets' offense failed again, and Lynch deliberately clapped loudly in front of CP3: "What a coward, he even lost his ball when facing the defense?"

"Shut up, Lynch!"

"Shut up? What right do you have? What can you do to me? Do you think you'd resort to dirty tactics like you did in college to attack my genitals? Wake up, Chris! Even if you jumped, you might not be able to hit me that high!"

This precise humiliation was like a steel needle soaked in hot oil, piercing CP3's most sensitive nerve.

Veins bulged on his forehead, and blood rushed to the top of his head in an instant.

He wanted to kill that bastard!

The Hornets' offense was repeatedly thwarted, while the Knicks' offense became highly efficient after Lynch stepped up his game.

In this possession, Lynch drew Trevor Ariza's double team and promptly passed the ball to Wilson Chandler, not leaving him stranded for too long.

Although Lynch is eager to crush CP3's pride with a scoring spree, some things cannot be rushed.

Like a skilled chess player, at this moment, one needs to first place living pieces and cultivate a killing momentum.

Lynch plans to get Wilson Chandler into a rhythm first, so he can keep his old friend Trevor Ariza occupied.

Once Trevor Ariza's help defense and double-teaming become less decisive, how many points Lynch scores tonight will depend entirely on his own mood. Wilson Chandler did not disappoint Lynch; the lure of a big contract made him cherish every opportunity like gold.

The basketball traced a decisive arc—

"Shh!"

The crisp sound of the net swishing through the net announced the three-pointer's success. Wilson Chandler shrugged slightly at Trevor Ariza, who used to keep him firmly on the bench: "Trevor, I'm way more accurate than you now."

The Hornets are down by 3 points, and Chris Paul now has to find a way to stop the slide.

As a leader, he had to step forward.

He gestured for David West to set a screen again—a choice that silently admitted he was deliberately avoiding Lynch's defense.

But a true man can bend and stretch; Chris Paul would rather lose face temporarily than lose face completely after losing the game.

After getting past the screen, CP3 didn't choose to drive, but instead made a clever step-back, retreating to the three-point line and taking a three-pointer!
Without hesitation, DeAndre Jordan lunged forward, allowing David West to cut in.

Chris Paul was about to pass the ball in the air, but he saw that Steve Nash had already blocked the passing lane.

He has no one left to pass on his legacy.

CP3 cleverly pretended to drop the ball in mid-air, then pretended to catch it after landing, before jumping up to shoot again.

But the referee's whistle blew immediately.

Chris Paul, clearly annoyed, shrugged and yelled, "What now?!"

The referee is innocent.

You shoot a basket and both feet leave the ground, then land and leave the ground again, and you ask me what happened?
No wonder you and LeBron James are so close! Your understanding of footwork is extraordinary!

No matter how strong Chris Paul's individual scoring ability is, he is destined to have the same problem as all his predecessors as point guards: "insufficient ceiling for leading a team".

At 183 cm tall, no matter how strong his individual firepower is, he can't outperform a 198 cm tall guard or a 208 cm tall forward.

He is destined to rely on passing at certain times.

Once his pass is blocked, it becomes difficult for him to save the team with timely hard breaks.

The Hornets' morale plummeted like a punctured balloon; their repeated attacks failed to achieve anything, causing the team's confidence to waver.

In the next offensive possession, Lynch once again assisted Wilson Chandler, who drove to the basket and scored.

The Hornets' weakest point is their rim protection; it's practically non-existent.

David West is a power forward who is good at help defense; rim protection is not his specialty.

Their center, Amar'e Stoudemire, has three undefendable positions.

The defenders don't defend because they can't keep up.

The forwards don't defend because they can't see through the feints.

Don't defend the center, because he'll jump as soon as you fake him out.

The coach can defend, but the coach doesn't play.

Wilson Chandler cut in and faked a powerful shot, sending Amar'e Stoudemire flying like a puppet. He fell to the ground and could only watch helplessly as Wilson Chandler casually placed the ball into the basket.

The formidable Amar'e Stoudemire made a fatal mistake in this round.

Defensive stalwart Trevor Ariza's breathing became heavy; he couldn't possibly contain both Wilson Chandler and Lynch at the same time!

Although Hornets head coach Monty Williams has not given the order, Trevor Ariza has already begun to be wary of Wilson Chandler's offense.

He knew that the center behind him couldn't clean up anyone's mess.

Continuing to allow Wilson Chandler to score is very dangerous.

But letting Lynch play one-on-one would be very dangerous.

Trevor Ariza was like a prisoner trapped in a crevice, his thoughts clashing violently in contradiction, desperately longing for a timeout so that head coach Monty Williams could personally untangle the knot in his mind.

But the game continued, and the defending champions were not going to give the injured Hornet a moment's respite!
Chris Paul's mid-range jump shot was blocked by Lynch's fingertips. When he jumped to shoot, he was still in a safe range, with only a shaky Steve Nash in front of him.

But just as he was about to make his move, Lin Qi reappeared.

It's Lynch again!

He seemed to blend into the air of the stadium; even when his sight was temporarily lost, his presence could penetrate every crack and be everywhere!

The basketball passed Steve Nash's palm, but not Lynch's fingertips.

Lynch took the basketball and dribbled it across half-court himself.

Lin Qi now possesses the ability to dribble and push the fast break, and he will take the initiative to attack whenever he has the opportunity.

He used a behind-the-back dribble to shake off David West, who was trying to block him. Facing Trevor Ariza's block at the three-point line, Lynch stepped down with his left foot, protected the ball with his right arm, and used his signature large Euro step to forcefully brush Ariza behind him, leaving no obstacle in front of him!
It rose from the ground and swung its battle axe in a wide arc!
"哐——!"

The rim groaned under the strain as Lynch slammed home a one-handed dunk, sending the powerful impact crashing into the heart of the basket!
Monty Williams called a timeout, and the Hornets were thoroughly outmatched.

Lynch landed, stood proudly, and pointed his right arm straight to the sky!

His icy, disdainful gaze locked precisely on Chris Paul, who stood on the sidelines, hands on hips, panting.

"I will surpass Michael! Kobe can't stop me! LeBron can't stop me! Melo can't stop me! Your senior, Tsim? He can't stop me either! As for you—"

"You don't even deserve to stand in front of me and challenge me!"

"Even touched the Western Conference Finals floor? Trash!"

Inside the VIP box, James Dolan's gaze couldn't penetrate the noise to catch Lynch's specific words, but witnessing the domineering presence of number 20 on the court, he couldn't help but clap his hands loudly.

That was awesome! So awesome!

This was truly a great show, more spectacular than any Broadway performance.

That's why the New York Knicks are the league's leading team in revenue.

But it's clear that Lynch is now taking on more and more of the responsibility from the very first quarter of the game.

James Dolan doesn't understand basketball, but he knows this is definitely not normal.

He glanced at Sam Presti beside him, whose fingers were flying across the screen, almost glued to his phone.

The Knicks' general manager finally looked up from the screen, glanced at the scoreboard and the cheering crowd, and whistled briefly: "They've taken the lead so quickly? Damn, I thought CP3 could hold on a little longer."

"What about that deal? How did it go?" James Dolan knew what Sam Presti had been busy with.

"It's almost done. There are just a few more calls to confirm the details, but it's pretty much finalized. After all, not many teams in the league are willing to spend a fortune on an uncertain possibility like you have. The Clippers really like this trade, and we both get what we need."

“Hey,” James Dolan put down his glass, his eyes gleaming, “It’s not a matter of uncertainty. I told you, we need to ensure the plan succeeds as much as possible! You can treat $4200 million like paper, but you can’t gamble with Lynch’s prime!”

"Of course, of course."

Sam Presti then looked down again and continued fiddling with his phone.

A few seconds later, Tyson Chandler, who was watching a movie at home, received a text message.

Upon seeing that the text message was from Sam Presti, he immediately knew that his next destination had been decided.

"Tyson, get ready, you're going to Los Angeles."

We've reached a trade agreement with the Los Angeles Clippers, sending you and a second-round pick in exchange for Baron Davis, who has a massively overpaid contract, and the Clippers' 2011 first-round draft pick. It's clear they want you to provide the same protection they gave to their new cornerstone, Blake Griffin, just as they protected Lynch.

Good luck, Tyson.

Los Angeles, the bustling City of Angels, is a destination that Tyson Chandler had imagined, but the next stop was even better.

Meanwhile, Baron Davis, who was at home in Los Angeles, received a brief notification text message from General Manager Neil Olshey at almost the same time.

He frowned, immediately asked his agent for Sam Presti's phone number, and then dialed it right away.

"Sam, is the deal real?" Byron Davis's voice was urgent and reluctant on the phone.

"We're just waiting for the league's approval."

"Listen! I still have gas! I have three years left on my contract, I need to play! How are you going to guarantee me playing time? I need that guaranteed!"
I know you won't get rid of my contract so easily. I still have $4200 million left, so I'll stay for at least three years. So, give me playing time. Listen, I'm going to fight for it. I don't want to be the villain who ruins the locker room, don't force me to do that!

His slightly threatening tone sounded ridiculous to Sam Presti.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” Sam Presti’s voice came through the radio, calm to the point of being ruthless, “to be honest, I haven’t even considered this question.”

"What!?"

“I said, I haven’t considered this issue. We’ll waive you before the start of next season,” Sam Presti said, shaking his head and marveling at the capriciousness of the wealthy. “Mr. James Dolan doesn’t care about your contract, no matter how big it is. He’ll just waive it. To put it bluntly—”

"He spent $4200 million to buy a draft pick."

(End of this chapter)