Mike Malone stood with his arms crossed, deep lines etched across his brow.
He had expected a tough battle going in, but the way the Spurs were dismantling them had gone far beyond anything he'd anticipated.
Out of the corner of his eye, Malone spotted movement on the Spurs' bench—a balding guard stood up without a hint of emotion, peeled off his warm-up pants, and stepped to the scorer's table to check in.
So soon?
Malone drew in a sharp breath.
It was still the first quarter, and Popovich was already sending in Ginobili. Was he planning to put the game away this early?
Exchanging a quick glance with Chen Yilun, Malone turned toward his own bench.
"Zach LaVine, Nikola Jokić—get ready, you're going in!"
If the current lineup couldn't handle the Spurs' offense, then they might as well fire back with everything they had.
A dead ball came quickly. Ginobili replaced Parker, while LaVine and Jokić came in for Ben McLemore and DeMarcus Cousins.
Cousins trudged to the bench, head down, draping a towel over himself—but his eyes stayed locked on the court.
"I should've been stronger," he muttered so quietly no one else could hear. Since the start of the season, the team had been reducing his touches, shifting more shots to the perimeter shooters. For someone as straightforward as Cousins, it stung.
If he were stronger, the team wouldn't be so passive. He wouldn't have been pulled so early.
LaVine stretched as he stepped in, flashing a subtle hand signal to CJ McCollum.
CJ caught it instantly. A few exchanged glances between teammates, and the Kings began humming like a well-oiled machine.
"Oh? Changing the look?" Popovich murmured from the sideline, watching the Kings' shifting movement patterns.
He took a sip from the thermos at his side. "Finally, a little fun. If they let me win this easily, that'd be embarrassing."
Malone's adjustment was clear—push the pace, keep the ball moving, and create space with constant off-ball movement.
The plan targeted the aging Spurs core, hoping to sap their stamina. Leonard might have been taking on more responsibility, but he was still playing under the shadow of the Big Three.
But it was a double-edged sword—constant running would burn out his own starters just as fast.
So he's going to trade pieces with me? Popovich read Malone's intent immediately.
If so, he wants to decide this with the bench.
Sure enough, just as Pop anticipated—Ginobili fed Leonard for a strong finish inside, and LaVine answered by blowing past Ginobili for a thunderous dunk.
From there, they traded scores.
Even with Ginobili and Duncan orchestrating from the paint, the Kings' CJ and Jokić—both sharp passers—kept answering.
By the end of the first quarter, it was 35–23.
The Spurs held a 12-point lead. In the broadcast booth, the commentators shifted tone, now praising San Antonio.
"I said it—sure, the Kings are the hot new team, but against the savvy Spurs there's still a big gap. Not just in talent, but in system, execution, and experience," one said.
"But Coach Malone's substitutions late in the first have me puzzled," Kenny Smith said from the booth. "Looks like he's trying to match Popovich in a battle of depth. But isn't that playing right into San Antonio's hands? Everyone knows they have the deepest roster in the league."
"Could the Kings still have a hidden card on the bench?"
With years of league experience, Smith quickly pieced it together. "If so, this could get interesting."
Over the past few weeks, the Kings had shocked fans again and again. Chen Yilun and Mike Malone were like tireless magicians, always pulling out new tricks. But it was already November—Christmas was just over a month away. At this stage, could they really still be holding something back?
As Smith pondered, the camera cut to the Kings' bench. At the very end sat a towering figure, quietly watching every play unfold.
...
After the short break, the second quarter began. Popovich kept his lineup intact—Big Three plus Leonard—clearly aiming to put the game away with his strongest unit.
But Malone stayed calm, showing no sign of bringing Cousins back in.
"This kid's got guts," Popovich chuckled coldly. "He's trying to cut Cousins' influence."
With all of the opponent's stars on the floor, benching his own franchise player was clearly a ploy by Malone and Chen Yilun to quietly lower Cousins' role.
The Kings kept rolling with their three-man core of Jokić, CJ, and LaVine. With Jokić and CJ's sharp passing and LaVine's spacing beyond the arc, the Spurs couldn't find an immediate answer.
"Then double him. What, are you all going to need extra practice because a bunch of rookies have you stumped?" Pop barked.
The Silver and Black machine roared back to life. Jokić caught the ball near the free-throw line—and immediately Splitter and Duncan closed in from both sides like twin mountains.
Still a rookie, Jokić was too green for that kind of pressure. Panic set in instantly.
Smack!
Duncan cleanly stripped the ball away. Leonard, already tracking the play from the three-point line, saw it loose, abandoned his man, and snatched it into his chest.
Parker and Ginobili were already sprinting upcourt.
Even with Casspi and LaVine hustling to recover, it was a three-on-two.
Parker caught the ball and didn't dribble—he swung it to Ginobili, who immediately sent it back to Parker, who then hit the trailing Leonard. Leonard took three long strides and finished with an easy layup.
It took under five seconds from the steal to the bucket. More astonishing—the ball changed hands three times, and not a single dribble was used.
"That's straight out of the textbook," Malone muttered, rubbing his bald head.
No coach could dislike that—scoring on a fast break in the most efficient way possible.
Everyone knows passing beats dribbling for speed, but in real games, most breaks are led by one guy dribbling with the rest trailing.
Game situations are full of unpredictable variables that cloud decision-making—but the Spurs, built on system and discipline, were the exception.
Under Popovich's strict structure, any player could be molded into the perfect teammate—maybe not a wild Sakuragi-type from the '90s.
That one sequence seemed to light the Spurs' offensive fuse. Smooth ball movement, perfectly timed rotations, and suffocating help defense left the young Kings scrambling.
By halftime, San Antonio led 66–42—a commanding 24-point gap.
...
"So this is the pressure of a defending champion?" Malone stroked the stubble on his chin, glancing at his weary players in the locker room.
"We'll have to change it up in the second half, or we won't have a chance."
At some point, Chen Yilun had appeared at his side, arms folded, brow furrowed tight.
Malone blinked—he'd worked with Chen for months, and this was the first time he'd seen him deadly serious. Normally the guy carried himself like a laid-back playboy.
"How do you want to change it?" Malone asked cautiously. Coming from the Spurs system, Chen knew exactly how they operated.
"In the second half, they'll put Diaw in to run half-court sets and control the tempo while giving the starters rest. That's our one opening. If we disrupt their rhythm, we can claw back."
Chen turned, locking eyes with Malone.
"Put Oden in."