The next morning, the film room smelled like burnt toast—someone had forgotten the toaster in the break room. Lin Mo didn't care. He was staring at Game 1's tape, his own mistakes glowing on the screen: Lunged at Doncic's crossover (4:12 Q2); Missed the pass to Kleber (7:38 Q3); Fouled on a shot fake (2:11 Q4).
"Stop torturing yourself," LeBron said, sliding a coffee next to him. "He's good. But he's not perfect."
Lin Mo rewound to Doncic's 3-pointer over Davis in the third quarter. "Look at his left knee. He's favoring it when he lands. Tired." He fast-forwarded to the fourth quarter: Doncic's step-back was slower, his crossover less sharp. "He plays 38 minutes. We make him play 40, he'll wear down."
LeBron nodded. "So we push. Run every rebound, every turnover. Make him sprint."
Lin Mo flipped to Doncic's defense—lazy, hands down, leaning on screens. "And when he's on D? Attack. I'll take him off the dribble, force him to chase. Wear him out."
He jotted in his notebook: Q1: Force him left, use LeBron in help. Q2: Push pace, make him run. Q3: Double-team on screens—force others to beat us. Q4: Iso him—he's tired, legs heavy.
Russell appeared in the doorway, holding a stat sheet. "Doncic's turnover rate spikes when teams double him in the fourth. 3.2 per game, up from 1.8."
Lin Mo smiled. A weak spot in the fabric.
That afternoon, they practiced the new game plan: Lin Mo pushing the pace, Davis setting hard screens to free Russell, LeBron rotating to help when Doncic drove left. By dusk, Lin Mo's lungs burned, but his notebook was full of checks: Pace: 10 seconds or less per possession. Double-teams: timed to force bad passes. Iso: Lin Mo 8/10 on drives against Gabe (Doncic).
He left the gym, the thimble warm in his pocket. Unpicking the first stitch hurt, but redoing it? That's where the strength came from.