This was hands-down the most serious Kwame Brown had ever been preparing for a game.
Despite Andrew Bynum's pre-game trash talk as the "Baby Shark," Brown acted like he didn't care on the surface. But behind the scenes, he'd been grinding through two extra days of strength training.
Zack noticed that to prep for this matchup against the Grizzlies, Brown even went out of his way to get recent game tapes from assistant coach Hollins.
Zack didn't want to discourage Brown, who was clearly putting in the work.
But with Brown now fully transitioned into a hustle-and-cleanup center, Zack knew one thing for sure: if Bynum got deep position in the paint during the actual game, Brown was in for a one-sided beatdown.
Bynum was a legit seven-footer.
In Zack's memory, Bynum was an All-Star big man at his peak, with a massive frame and a playing weight hovering around 285 pounds. Putting aside Bynum's questionable character, aside from Yao Ming and a few others, his three-pronged attack in the post was something most centers couldn't handle.
So, before the game, after discussing tactics with head coach Malone, Zack found Brown and said, "In this game against the Grizzlies, I'm taking on that loudmouth 'Baby Shark' myself."
Brown got heated. "No way! He's been running his mouth, humiliating me. I've gotta prove myself out there."
Zack patted Brown's shoulder. "With me and Steve feeding you the ball, you'll have plenty of chances to show what you've got on offense."
Brown looked deflated. "But if I don't guard him, people will say I'm scared to match up with him."
"Who cares what fans think?" Zack said with a slight smile, speaking like a veteran. "Trust me, if your stat line looks better than that cocky 'Baby Shark's' by the end of the game, everyone will say you owned him."
Zack knew how much this game meant to Brown.
He wanted to help his only real frontcourt partner prove himself on the court.
But Brown needed to play smart and avoid Bynum's strengths to compete.
Did it matter if Brown actually guarded Bynum one-on-one?
Not really.
In past games, Zack didn't always match up directly with LeBron James every single play either. Yet now, whenever fans brought up their head-to-head record, most assumed Zack had James' number, treating him like a toy to be played with.
Plus, Zack remembered that during this era, Bynum's dirty plays—like elbows and chokeholds—ended the careers of several players. Take Gerald Wallace, for example, whose peak was cut short after Bynum's elbow collapsed his lung.
In Zack's eyes, this "Baby Shark" who loved to play dirty needed to be dealt with personally.
To avoid any risks, Zack even suggested to Malone that Wallace sit this one out, with Matt Barnes starting instead.
No choice—Zack had to consider if this season was his one shot to chase the Bulls' 72-win record. Any threat to this Warriors team had to be eliminated without mercy.
---
Memphis, FedExForum
A smug Andrew Bynum was ready to feast on Kwame Brown in the upcoming game.
Bynum had every reason to be cocky at this point.
Though he'd been in the league for five years, he was still just 22 years old. With the progress he'd made, he felt he was on the cusp of becoming a star center.
And in his eyes, this Grizzlies roster was pretty solid.
The hardworking Serge Ibaka took on all the dirty work, making Bynum's life way easier than Shaq's ever was. Shaq never had a teammate like Ibaka, a top-tier big man.
At 6'10" in shoes, Ibaka could punish sagging defenses with mid-range jumpers, feast on lobs at the rim, and dominate defensively. His quick feet let him cover from the paint to the three-point line, and with a 7'6" wingspan and a 36-inch vertical, he was a natural rim protector.
In Zack's memory, Ibaka was a two-time blocks leader and three-time All-Defensive First Team member. In 2014, Sports Illustrated ranked him seventh among the world's most athletic athletes.
Even Zack was jealous of Ibaka's physical gifts.
Only someone who played in the paint could truly appreciate how awesome it was to have a teammate like Ibaka.
After warm-ups, the Grizzlies' starting five took the court: Bynum, Ibaka, Rudy Gay, Corey Maggette, and Mike Conley.
This season, Grizzlies coach Dave Joerger preferred starting Maggette alongside Gay for some positional flexibility, with O.J. Mayo as the sixth man.
Mayo, who thought his talent rivaled Kobe's, grumbled privately about Joerger's decision. But Joerger firmly believed Mayo's ceiling was more like Ben Gordon than Kobe.
Joerger wouldn't say Jerry West missed the mark, but in his view, Mayo lacked the height, speed, and flexibility to be the next Kobe. Sure, Mayo had a deep bag of offensive moves and solid skills, but against high-intensity defenses, his efficiency tanked.
Joerger saw Mayo thriving as a sixth man, dominating the ball during second-unit minutes and unleashing his scoring flair.
Looking at Mayo's eventual career arc, Joerger's take was spot-on.
But no matter how right the advice was, it couldn't tame Mayo's sky-high ego. Who'd choose to be Pippen when they could dream of being Jordan?
---
At center court, the tip-off kicked things off.
Bynum won the jump over Brown.
Purely on talent, the "Baby Shark" had the makings of a superstar center. At 7'0" with a near 7'7" wingspan, his athleticism and frame were elite. His natural bulk made him perfect for adding weight to dominate the paint, unlike others who bulked up unnaturally.
Some later claimed Bynum's weight gain wrecked his career.
Not true.
Zack recalled a Lakers assistant coach saying Bynum's lack of discipline led to off-season binges, ballooning his weight past 330 pounds—way beyond what his body could handle. At 285 pounds, his frame was fine. It was his inability to control his diet that did him in.
On the court, as Conley brought the ball up, Bynum sensed something was off.
He was ready to school Brown in the post, but instead, he ran smack into the freakishly strong Zack.
Bynum's clumsy post-up moves were no match for Zack, who, with the ref's silent approval, used his elbow to secure position and shoved Bynum out of the paint.
Bynum was pissed.
But the psychological shadow Zack cast over him kept him from lashing out.
Seeing this, Conley switched to a high pick-and-roll with Ibaka, hitting a long two.
Honestly, Zack thought Conley didn't even need the screen. Against Steve Nash's defense, Conley could've blown by him without all the extra steps.
On the other end, as Bynum jogged back, he spotted Brown—who hadn't dared to guard him—and found his punching bag. "I knew you were just a chihuahua hiding behind your teammates!" he taunted.
Brown, burning inside, didn't bite back.
At the top, after setting a screen for Zack, Brown rolled hard to the rim. Young Ibaka, tasked with locking in on Zack, couldn't help Bynum slow Brown's cut.
Bynum, acting like he had Shaq's aura without the game to back it up, watched helplessly as Brown blew past him.
Zack fired a perfect pass, setting Brown up to show off his athleticism.
In the Grizzlies' paint, Brown, who always had a thing for highlight dunks, threw down a two-handed alley-oop slam!
"Big deal if I'm a lapdog! Big deal if I'm scrapping for crumbs!" Brown roared at Bynum after landing. "I can still dunk on your sorry ass, you trash!"
The Grizzlies' next possession was more of the same.
Bynum couldn't get an inch against Zack in the post.
Maggette took the initiative, driving hard from the wing past Bell, trying to draw contact to break the ice for Memphis.
But when Zack rotated over, no matter how much Maggette sold the foul, the refs, abiding by the "Zack Rule," wouldn't blow the whistle.
Under Zack's clean pressure, Maggette lost balance and missed the layup.
Zack could've grabbed the rebound himself but kindly boxed out for Brown.
With tears in his eyes, Brown snagged the board.
"What's wrong with being a lapdog? I freaking love being Messiah's sidekick!" Brown bellowed.
His shout sparked a fire in the Warriors' bench.
"What's wrong with being a dog?" Dunleavy piped up from the sideline. "If Messiah wants, I'll be his dog for life!"
Then, Nash pushed the pace in transition.
Racing to the free-throw line, Nash held the ball a beat longer than usual.
No doubt about it—tonight, with two elite passers feeding him, Brown was getting the kind of service even Shaq would've envied.
On the court, Brown showed off the ball-handling that once fooled Jordan, cutting through the lane like a small forward and finishing with a reverse layup.
"Trash, you think you can keep up with me?" Brown yelled at Bynum again. "I'm not some slow, dumb idiot like you!"
Bynum was rattled.
To him, Brown was just riding Zack's coattails.
But as Bynum opened his mouth to challenge Brown to a low-post duel, the last figure he wanted to see stepped in front of him again.
Fuming, Bynum's post-up moves got sloppier and more aggressive.
Zack, never one to take a backseat in physicality, answered with two sharp elbows—warning shots.
Since the "Zack Rule" came into play, he didn't mind opponents banging with him or even using some non-basketball moves. But Bynum's reckless elbow-swinging at faces? That crossed a line.
On the court, the bully-who-only-picked-on-the-weak Bynum got pushed out of the post again.
Too scared to snap at Zack, he turned his frustration on his teammates.
After Gay's three-point attempt clanged off, Bynum screamed at Ibaka during the retreat, "You damn hick, can't you at least set a screen for me?"
Ibaka, thinking, "What's your failure to post up got to do with me?" looked as wronged as could be.
This wasn't Bynum's first time chewing out Ibaka this season.
On or off the court, Bynum took every chance to haze him. Once, during a game, Bynum untied his shoe and stuck his foot in Ibaka's face, demanding he tie it. Then, unhappy with Ibaka's knot, he chucked the shoe at Ibaka's face in the locker room, sneering, "You backwoods nobody, you can't even tie a shoe right!"
Carrying bags, shining shoes, taking verbal abuse—it was all routine for Bynum.
He relished humiliating Ibaka, believing it was Ibaka's job to serve him.
Even when Ibaka covered for Bynum's defensive lapses and got posterized, Bynum would mock him on the court: "Look at this idiot getting dunked on again!"
That was Andrew Bynum.
Historically, he'd laughed behind Pau Gasol's back after a poster dunk and cursed Kobe for pushing him in practice, wishing "that damn old dog would break his leg."
Later, after being cut by the Lakers, he got cozy with a team assistant coach's wife. By 2013, the Cavs had enough and suspended him indefinitely.
Zack couldn't find a word harsh enough for Bynum. "Brain-dead" almost felt too kind.
On the court, it was the Warriors' turn.
Maybe Brown's constant taunting got under Bynum's skin, and bullying Ibaka wasn't cutting it anymore.
After venting at Ibaka, Bynum turned his cold glare to the rest of the Warriors.
Nash, using a Zack screen, leaned toward Brown's side to set up a play.
But as Nash went to pass, Bynum blindsided him with a non-basketball shove, sending him and the ball flying several feet.
Smirking, Bynum gloated, "I barely touched him. He's just too soft."
In that moment, Bynum proved why "brain-dead" didn't even begin to cover his pathetic mindset.
Zack never went easy on animals like that.
Pulling back a teammate ready to confront Bynum, Zack said calmly, "Leave him to me."
The game resumed.
Bynum, hit with just a common foul, felt like he'd finally let off some steam.
But when he demanded the ball and got a switch onto Zack via a screen, Zack showed him what a real body blow looked like.
On the wing, the moment he caught the ball, Zack morphed into an NFL wide receiver, charging at Bynum with a lowered elbow!
BOOM!
The FedExForum shook as Bynum hit the deck, clutching his chest in agony.
Zack was ready to argue his case with the Grizzlies players, expecting pushback.
But to his shock, the other Grizzlies—long fed up with Bynum—looked at him like they were thinking, "Good riddance."
Over the past two years, Ibaka wasn't the only one Bynum had tormented.
Mike Conley never forgot his rookie year, when Bynum retaliated for a missed pick-and-roll pass by intentionally stepping under him during practice, sidelining Conley for nearly six weeks.
Yes, over one pass, Bynum was vile enough to injure a teammate in practice.
Rudy Gay couldn't forget last season's game against Portland, when Bynum targeted his close friend Jeff Green.
Gay had been hyped for that matchup, even showing off a photo of him and Green to his teammates. "Jeff's my best friend. We made a pact—if we ever faced off in the NBA, we'd go all out."
Then Bynum, that despicable jerk, broke Green's ribs with an elbow and bragged afterward, "Too bad, Rudy. Guess you'll have to wait till next season to face your buddy."
Gay was 100% sure Bynum did it on purpose.
Even Corey Maggette, new to the team, was done with Bynum. Whenever Maggette fought for contact in the paint, Bynum would snipe, "If every player got calls like Corey, we'd all be Michael Jordan."
As the Grizzlies' players shot Zack looks of respect, he suddenly felt he'd gone too easy on Bynum.
"Kwame, looks like I stole your career night," Zack said, glancing at Bynum being helped off by the Grizzlies' staff, charged with an offensive foul.
Brown grinned. "A clown like that? I don't even think about him. Just wait—we'll face them again, and next time, I'll end his career myself!"
…