Chapter 388: The Final Showdown Between Protégé and Mentor (2)
“This is how we’ll handle the second half.”
In the locker room during halftime, Popovich sketched and scribbled on the tactic board.
“We’ll try our best to drag them into a half-court grind. Slow the Kings down. Take control of the tempo.”
To be honest, Popovich’s adjustment wasn’t anything ingenious.
It was all familiar, well-worn stuff.
But that, in itself, showed just how few answers Popovich had against this Kings team.
With Leonard gone, the Spurs’ proud motion offense could no longer function.
The core of motion offense is having all five players on the floor possess extremely high basketball IQ and flawless chemistry.
Now that the Spurs had changed their leader, all that chemistry had to be rebuilt from scratch. As a result, they had already lost the smooth, flowing coordination that once defined them.
“We’ll push the pace even harder later!”
In the Kings’ locker room on the other side, Malone looked far more relaxed.
“Those old bones can’t hold up anymore. By the end of the second quarter, they were already struggling to withstand our pressure. Once the third quarter starts, we’ll pour on more fuel!”
As he spoke, Malone casually tossed the tactic board in his hand aside.
“When you play against these seasoned old foxes, there’s only one rule: don’t give them a chance to slow down. The moment you let them catch their breath, they’ll bite back hard.”
Malone’s plan was simple—purely a test of stamina.
We’ll run faster than you. Jump higher than you.
Without Leonard as their defensive anchor, the Spurs’ once-vaunted defensive system collapsed on its own.
Once the second half began, the Kings raised the tempo yet again.
Under the Kings’ rainstorm-like offensive barrage, the Spurs quickly fell apart.
By the end of the third quarter, the gap had already stretched to more than twenty points.
When the fourth quarter started, Popovich made only a token attempt to resist for the first few minutes before effectively conceding defeat.
“You’re even better than I imagined!”
After the final buzzer sounded, Popovich shook hands with Malone, then immediately sought out Chen Yilun in the crowd. Smiling, he pulled him into a hug as he spoke.
“Not at all!”
Caught off guard by the sudden praise, Chen Yilun felt a little flustered and waved his hands repeatedly.
“It’s all thanks to you and my mentor!”
“Good kid!”
Popovich gave Chen Yilun a firm pat on the shoulder, his expression solemn.
“Both your mentor and I are old now. These past couple of years, we’ve felt more and more that we just don’t have the strength anymore.”
“I never imagined you’d accomplish something that neither your mentor nor I ever did.”
“Now’s really not the time to say that!”
If it weren’t for the old man’s status and reputation, Chen Yilun would have rushed over to cover his mouth.
In that instant, Chen Yilun felt like a giant target had just been painted on his back.
“It wasn’t me! Not me!”
Chen Yilun clenched the prayer beads his mother had gotten for him, muttering under his breath.
“I didn’t say anything!”
“If something goes wrong, blame that old geezer! It has nothing to do with me!”
“What are you doing, kid?”
Watching Chen Yilun act all spooky, Popovich felt his head start to ache.
But then he suddenly remembered a rumor circulating within the league. His aged yet sharp eyes instantly filled with visible alarm.
That ridiculous-sounding rumor… could it actually be true? Could this little protégé of his really possess some mysterious sorcery?
At the thought, Popovich discreetly took two steps back, putting some distance between himself and Chen Yilun.
It looked like Chen Yilun was in the middle of some kind of ritual. Better to stay farther away and avoid getting caught in the blast radius of his “magic.”
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“Is Popovich really that useless?”
In a conference room in Oakland, Green muttered in dissatisfaction as he watched the Kings rout the Spurs.
There was no Warriors game that day, so the team’s core members had gathered together to watch.
“I told you, you were being too optimistic.”
Kerr casually turned off the television and folded his arms.
“As the junior, Chen Yilun was treated like a treasure by those two old guys back when he was with the Spurs.”
“Now the Spurs are clearly on the decline. This year’s playoffs are basically just the last flickers of that glorious dynasty. The old man probably doesn’t have much drive left to fight for the throne.”
“If it were me, I’d also be willing to give Chen Yilun a push and let him go compete on a bigger stage.”
Hearing Kerr’s words, Curry—who had been silent all this time—stretched and straightened up.
“We really underestimated things before.”
“The first step of the plan has already failed. All we can do now is pin our hopes on what comes next.”
Listening to Curry, Kerr let out a cold chuckle inwardly.
Deep down, Kerr had never truly accepted this plan.
Given the current situation, the Kings standing alone at the top was already a foregone conclusion. Even with this alliance in place, unless a key Kings player suffered a major injury, Kerr genuinely couldn’t see any way to stop their march forward.
Thinking of this, Kerr cast a meaningful glance at Green, who still looked unwilling to accept it.
Kerr was a man forged through the old era and had always been tolerant of dirty work on the court.
Whether it was Rodman during his Bulls days or Bowen during his time with the Spurs, Kerr had always accepted it.
That was why he mostly turned a blind eye to having a player like Green on his roster now.
If it really came down to it…
He could always let Green go to work.
Kerr took a deep breath as the thought crossed his mind.
Chen Yilun’s success had always been a thorn in Kerr’s side.
The small-ball era had clearly been pioneered by him and the Warriors, yet the sweetest cream of that era’s rewards had been eaten clean by Chen Yilun and the Kings.
Now, watching the Kings on the verge of building a dynasty, how could he possibly accept it?
“What’s done is done. There’s no point dwelling on it.”
Kerr clapped his hands, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Now all we can hope is that the old man gives the Kings a bit of trouble in the upcoming games. Otherwise, the rest of these playoffs will be painful for everyone.”
As he spoke, Kerr stared straight at the now-dark television screen.
“I doubt the old man wants to leave the stage of history in such an ugly state. In the next games, he’ll probably show some real skill.”
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