"Run faster! Faster!"
Inside the Kings' practice facility, Malone stood with his arms crossed, looking troubled as he watched the players go through drills.
"Don't be so impatient. What can they really accomplish in just two days? If you ask me, it'd be better to give them a break and let them rest," came Chen Yilun's voice from behind.
Coach Malone turned around and instantly felt his blood pressure rise.
"Look at yourself! Is that how a professional manager should dress?"
Chen Yilun was wearing oversized beach shorts, a brightly colored floral shirt, and was leisurely sipping a cup of coffee.
"You here on vacation or what!"
"Relax, don't be so uptight," Chen Yilun said, patting Malone's shoulder. "It doesn't really matter. Aside from Gay, this is basically everyone's first time in the playoffs. We'll have plenty of chances in the future."
"This year, let's just stay calm and go as far as we can. Don't forget, I'm still here." He thumped his chest casually.
"Just wait until this summer—I'll blind you with my moves."
"We're heading into the playoffs! Don't say things that could hurt team morale!" Malone quickly covered Chen Yilun's mouth before he could say more.
Even so, thanks to Chen Yilun's antics, some of Malone's tension eased. With a colleague this absurd, it was impossible to stay serious...
...
"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the Toyota Center!"
The DJ's booming, excited voice echoed under the towering dome of the arena.
The Rockets' home court was packed to the brim, every fan dressed in matching red shirts. From above, the Toyota Center looked like a roaring sea of red.
But within that ocean of fire, a small patch of purple stood stubbornly against the tide. The few Kings fans, clad in team gear, waved their flags and shouted with all their might.
"Bro, I'm kinda nervous," CJ admitted to Gay in the player tunnel, his voice trembling.
He technically had playoff experience, but back then he was just a benchwarmer who only saw garbage time. This was his first time stepping onto the floor as a core player.
"Don't be nervous. Just treat it like a regular season game," Gay replied, laid-back as ever.
Cousins, on the other hand, was practically bouncing with excitement.
"Watch me tear them apart today!"
The role players trailing behind, like LaVine, looked at the three stars leading the way—one overly excited, one overly nervous, and one completely carefree.
"Are we really okay like this?" Ben, hanging back, couldn't help but feel uncertain.
The Kings hadn't rolled out their regular-season lineup. Instead, they benched Casspi, shifted Cousins to power forward, and started Oden at center.
It wasn't by choice—it was necessity.
The Rockets this year already showed signs of becoming that future offensive juggernaut. If it came down to a shootout, the Kings likely couldn't keep up. So they fielded this unusual lineup.
Meanwhile, the Rockets stuck with their standard starters: James Harden and Jason "Jet" Terry in the backcourt, Trevor "Switchblade" Ariza and Terrence Jones on the wings, and Dwight "Superman" Howard anchoring the paint.
As soon as both teams hit the floor, the Rockets' fans cranked up the noise, so loud it felt like the roof might blow off the arena.
At tip-off, Howard outjumped Cousins, sending the ball to Harden.
Even at this stage, Harden was already flashing his potential as a scoring machine. After dribbling to the top of the arc, Howard faked a screen. Just as CJ brushed past, Harden suddenly accelerated and attacked the rim.
The Kings were in a 2-1-2 zone, designed to protect the boards and ignite fast breaks. As Harden slashed inside, the defense collapsed to cut off his space. But with his incredible court vision, Harden threaded a pass between two defenders.
The ball zipped straight to Terry in the corner.
But Gay, who had been near the wing, had already turned and sprinted toward him. If it had just been a simple drive-and-kick, the play would have failed.
Yet Terry didn't hesitate—before Gay could close out, he put the ball on the floor. Instead of driving baseline, which would've been the natural route, he spun and cut at a 30-degree angle to the left.
Seeing Terry's line, Ben, stationed around the 45, quickly rotated to help. That one defensive move cost them.
The ball was already out of Terry's hands—whipped straight to the 45 on the arc.
Ariza caught it cleanly and, with Ben still scrambling, rose for a smooth pull-up.
"Swish!" The net snapped as the shot dropped.
"They're trying to use the two guards to break the zone," Malone muttered on the sideline. As expected of a veteran coach like McHale.
Many modern Rockets fans don't have the best impression of him, thinking the old man had no tactics. But honestly, it wasn't his fault.
The real issue was the lack of chemistry between Harden and Howard. Harden wanted a center who could set solid screens, protect the rim, and roll hard for easy finishes. But Howard's screens were weak, and he was too proud to play second fiddle.
That's why, later on, after Howard was traded and Capela took his place—a big who set better screens even if he couldn't score much—the Rockets actually improved.
The camera then swung back to the Kings' offense. With Cousins and Oden forming a Twin Towers lineup, the pace slowed dramatically. They had no choice but to grind it out in the half court.
The setup was tailor-made to counter Houston. Aside from Howard, the Rockets' tallest player was Jones at 6'9", only a bit taller than Gay. The Kings' plan was simple: Cousins and Oden both had reliable mid-range shots, and Cousins could even stretch to three. Pull Howard away from the paint, and Oden would go to work inside.
Sure enough, Oden scored on Jones in the post.
But then the Beard went to work. Harden drilled a three off a screen, then drove to the free-throw line and floated one in.
The perimeter defense was simply too soft.
Watching Harden pick on CJ and Ben possession after possession, Chen Yilun, sitting with the front office staff, shook his head helplessly.
True, Ben had made real progress this season. Back in his comfort zone, he was slowly evolving toward his model, Ray Allen.
But as a newcomer still learning the craft, how could he possibly stand up to Harden?
The game began slipping out of control!
...
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