Chapter 374: The Night of His Career
Back on the court, Rose took a deep breath and glanced at the game clock with a complicated look.
The fourth quarter had only just begun. There was still plenty of time left.
Yet, strangely, at the very moment he was about to break his own scoring record, he hesitated.
Humans really were contradictory creatures.
Because of his injuries, Rose had sunk into despair for a long time, spending years forcing himself to accept the reality that he would never return to who he once was.
And now, all of a sudden, an opportunity like this had appeared right in front of him.
Rose wasn’t naive enough to think that one incredible night meant he could go back to his MVP days.
But in life, the most terrifying thing isn’t despair—it’s sudden hope.
Rose didn’t dare imagine it. If this game stirred everything up again, did that mean he’d have to relive all that pain once more?
Just as he was tangled in those thoughts, a shout rang out.
“Don’t zone out! Run the offense!”
Rose turned toward the voice. Butler was standing on the sideline, wildly waving a towel in his hand.
Just like back when he was still a raw rookie.
Seeing the excitement burning in Butler’s eyes, Rose froze for a moment.
Yeah. What the hell was he scared of?
He was Derrick Rose.
How could he possibly shrink back at a time like this?
Once that thought settled in, Rose’s gaze hardened.
Facing Fournier’s defense, Rose motioned for a screen. He drove to around the free-throw line, stopped on a dime through contact, and rose up for a pull-up jumper.
Swish.
The ball slipped cleanly through the net.
“Forty-two points!”
Some fans covered their mouths, desperately holding back the surge of emotion inside them.
It felt like watching a dream come back to life.
The once-unstoppable Rose was back—wearing a black-and-purple No. 25 jersey, sprinting across the court.
“This is unreal,” an older fan murmured to himself.
“Can something like this really happen?”
“No idea,” his friend said, shaking his head. “But no matter what, this game is really something special.”
As they spoke, Rose attacked the paint again, pump-faked Markkanen into the air, and finished another layup.
“Forty-four points!”
Rose had officially set a new career-high. Every point from here on out would be uncharted territory.
“Timeout! Timeout!”
Magic head coach Steve Clifford called his second-to-last timeout.
Because the Kings had been deliberately feeding Rose all game, the score had stayed within a range the Magic could still chase.
That gave Clifford a sliver of hope.
“Lock onto Derrick Rose,” Clifford said in a low voice, looking at Fournier and Harris.
“I know emotions are running high, but a game is a game. The Kings are definitely going to keep running their offense through Rose. Just do your jobs, guys.”
The instant the timeout was called, Rose lowered his head and walked straight toward the bench.
He grabbed the towel a teammate handed him and pressed it tightly over his face. In front of everyone, he broke down and started crying.
Seeing Rose like that, the entire Kings team was shaken.
Gay opened his mouth, but no words came out.
In a moment like this, anything you could say felt meaningless.
When the timeout ended, Rose returned to the floor, his eyes still red.
“Watch the baseline,” Gay whispered as he grabbed Butler, who was about to check in.
“I got it,” Butler said, nodding hard.
Since tonight was Rose’s career night, Butler wasn’t about to let anything interfere.
The scoreboard read Kings 106, Magic 99—a seven-point lead.
The Magic still had time to make a push.
After checking in, Butler caught a pass from Rose and immediately drilled a three-pointer.
The lead jumped to double digits.
“I’ve got my eyes on you!”
As he backpedaled on defense, Butler locked onto Markkanen and spoke with a vicious edge.
The threat was obvious.
“That’s way too arrogant!” the young Markkanen protested, clearly rattled.
“Alright, alright,” Aaron Gordon said quietly, trying to calm him down. “It’s Derrick’s night. And Butler was brought up by Derrick—he’s bound to be emotional.”
With Gordon giving him an out, Markkanen let it go.
He really had been angry just now, but actually squaring up with Butler? That was another story.
“I’m just giving Derrick some respect,” Markkanen muttered. “It’s not like I’m scared of Jimmy Butler.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Gordon replied, holding back a laugh at Markkanen’s bluster.
As the seconds ticked away, the arena grew restless.
“Here it comes!”
Rose drove for a layup, but Gordon got a hand on the play, throwing off his shooting motion. The ball slammed off the rim—just as the whistle blew.
Gordon didn’t bother arguing. He raised his hand immediately to acknowledge the foul.
Rose slowly walked to the free-throw line. Tears were already streaming down his face, and the Golden 1 Center erupted in a unified chant of “MVP! MVP!”
Swish. Swish.
Both free throws were good.
Rose’s total climbed to 50 points.
After that, the Magic had only a few seconds left, and the Kings still held a comfortable double-digit lead.
The result was no longer in doubt.
Backup point guard Elfrid Payton dribbled past half court and tossed up a symbolic three-pointer that clanged off the rim.
The buzzer roared, ending the game.
The entire Golden 1 Center exploded. Fans leapt to their feet, cheering as one for Rose.
Jokić rose high, snatched the rebound, and pulled the ball tightly into his chest.
He was keeping it safe for Rose. This ball was his prize.
Butler rushed over like a madman and wrapped Rose in a hug. All the players crowded around him, celebrating together.
As a respected veteran on the team, Rose had everyone’s genuine happiness.
Yet at the very center of it all, Rose stood silently, tears streaking down his face, clutching the basketball Jokić had handed him.
He held it so tightly, as if he wanted to press it into his very body.
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