Chapter 400: Battle for the Throne (3)
“Dejounte Murray drives hard to the rim! Davis swats him down—but wait, the whistle has already blown! Murray draws the foul on Anthony Davis and will head to the free-throw line!”
As the call rang out, a wave of cheers—neither thunderous nor subdued—rose from Golden One Arena.
“The Kings are playing with real resolve tonight!”
In the domestic broadcast studio, Mike Breen rubbed his slightly dry eyes and sighed with emotion.
“The Kings tonight look nothing like they did last game. If the previous matchup felt like a group of young players still struggling to adapt to the pressure brought by the Lakers’ Big Three, then tonight, the Kings have fully found their footing.”
“Even players like Murray—someone the Kings have deliberately developed as a ball-handler—are now actively hunting James or Davis to draw contact.”
“It’s like a pack of young hyenas facing a lion—finally baring their fangs!”
“These young Kings are genuinely playing well tonight!”
Beside him, Jeff Van Gundy nodded in agreement.
“In our discussion after Game 1, we talked about how the Kings’ young forward group couldn’t really limit James’ offense.”
“But judging from today’s game, the Kings have clearly made adjustments—and the results have been pretty good.”
The Kings’ defensive strategy today was actually very simple.
Whether it was Anunoby, Siakam, or even Booker.
As long as the Lakers cleared out space for James to isolate, the defender matched up with him would immediately play straight-up one-on-one.
They weren’t trying to shut James down completely—just cut off his driving lanes.
James’ physical condition has begun to decline, and his style of play has gradually evolved with time.
This season, his most lethal weapon has been using his ability to penetrate and his elite court vision to run inside-out passing actions with his teammates.
In theory, this approach maximizes the shooting ability of the team’s shooters.
The Kings’ response to James’ three-pronged attack was to have every defender drop back half a step. Even in isolation coverage, there was always a help defender lurking behind, ready to disrupt James’ passing lanes.
And even if James broke into the paint, that was fine—there was still a do-it-all presence like Jokić waiting inside to grind him down.
So while James could still force his way to points with pure ability, that kind of scoring came at a heavy physical cost.
By the third quarter, signs of fatigue were already creeping in.
“We can’t keep playing like this. Go in there and grind out a few buckets so I can catch my breath!”
James sat on the bench, taking small sips from his water bottle.
“But don’t blow all your energy at once—we still need you in the fourth!”
“I know.”
Davis nodded.
But Davis himself wasn’t having a comfortable night either.
As one of the league’s hottest big men, Davis’ biggest selling points were his terrifying mobility and reliable outside touch.
Yet against the Kings, this usually unstoppable toolkit seemed to lose its edge.
Right now, the Kings’ tempo controller was Jokić, stationed firmly in the paint.
After Butler went down with injury, Durant had to shoulder the scoring load, leaving the job of controlling the game squarely in Jokić’s hands.
That shift instantly unlocked his potential.
Ball movement in Jokić’s hands became pure artistry. He could speed the game up or slow it down at will. This smooth, flowing system locked Davis firmly inside the paint.
With no room to roam or slide laterally, much of Davis’ skill set was immediately neutralized.
As for trying to bully Jokić on the block—going to war with that slab of mass was no joke.
After leaning into him for ages without budging him an inch, Davis finally realized that in close-quarters combat, pure muscle sometimes just couldn’t beat sheer bulk.
And so, after battling for most of the game, the Lakers ultimately came up short.
“Honestly… they’re not that scary.”
The series score had moved to 2–0. The Kings, who had been a little tense earlier, were already halfway relaxed.
“All that hype about the Lakers’ Big Three—I thought they’d be terrifying. Looking at it now, they’re not nearly as scary as advertised.”
Jokić, with two massive ice packs strapped to his legs, reclined in his chair and spoke with casual indifference.
“You’re getting cocky, kid.”
Gay, sitting across from him, laughed and grabbed a towel, tossing it over.
“There are still two games left. Don’t loosen up. Even if their resistance isn’t as strong as we expected, that’s no reason to let our guard down. Got it?”
Malone reminded him with a smile.
To be honest, this Lakers series felt less intense to Malone than the one against the Warriors.
“Because of the system.”
Assistant coach Ham spoke casually.
“The Warriors have a system. Whether you credit Kerr or Curry, there’s no denying they have a complete offensive and defensive framework. So even if Kerr isn’t there, or Curry isn’t there, as long as everyone buys into that system, the Warriors are still the Warriors.”
“But the Lakers are different. They don’t really have a system—or rather, their system isn’t a conventional one.”
“Everything they do on offense and defense revolves around LeBron James. You could say that every team LeBron has ever been on works this way. LeBron is the system, and naturally, everyone else’s presence gets diminished.”
“That kind of system can be strong, but it can also be fragile. We’re just lucky that our current roster happens to counter LeBron well, which makes it look easier than it really is.”
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While the locker room buzzed with laughter and banter, Chen Yilun was already humming a tune as he made his way to the parking lot, getting ready to head home.
As he searched for his car, a slightly youthful voice rang out behind him.
“That was incredible. So this is the level of the Western Conference Finals!”
“Exactly! After watching that game, I was completely stunned. It felt like they weren’t even playing the same sport as us. We’ve still got a long road ahead.”
“So what do you think? Want to find a court and play a bit more? I’m fired up right now!”
“Let’s go, let’s go!”
Hearing the chatter behind him, Chen Yilun turned around curiously to see where the voices were coming from.
Two young men in basketball hoodies were walking toward him.
“You are…?”
Chen Yilun frowned slightly as he studied them. One of them had a wild, curly afro that looked strangely familiar.
The two teenagers froze as well when they saw Chen Yilun in his suit and stopped in their tracks.
“Y-you’re… Chen Yilun?”
Clearly still students, both of them blurted out excitedly after recognizing him.
“We’re high school league players. We’re aiming for the NCAA!”
Running into a major figure from the league left the two of them visibly thrilled.
“Have we met before?”
Chen Yilun looked at the young man with the afro, asking with some uncertainty.
“Once!”
The kid nodded hard. “I went to high school in Sacramento for a while. Back then, you brought your team to our school for a community event.”
“Oh, right.”
Chen Yilun nodded casually.
“No wonder you looked familiar. What was your name again?”
“Jalen!”
The afro-haired kid answered emphatically.
“Jaylen Wells!”
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