Chapter 128: Semifinal 1
Inside the AT&T Center, the Spurs’ home court.
Chen Yilun sat on the bench, his eyes fixed on the five banners hanging from the rafters—symbols of the franchise’s glorious past.
This was the arena he knew best. Every plank of the hardwood floor was etched into his memory.
Yet today, a strange sense of unfamiliarity crept over him.
Maybe it was because he had gone from being one of this arena’s masters to a challenger from afar.
“So this is what it feels like sitting on the visitors’ side.”
Chen Yilun glanced around curiously, only to lock eyes with Buford across the court.
With his trademark brown-tinted glasses, Buford shot him a thumbs-up and broke into hearty laughter.
...
Meanwhile, in the visitors’ locker room, Coach Malone was exploding in anger.
“They’re walking all over us! Do you know what Popovich said to me and Yilun?”
Spittle flew as Malone shouted. “He told us to play hard so he wouldn’t get bored!”
To drive the point home, Malone slammed his fist against the whiteboard. “They’re insulting us to our faces! So what the hell are we gonna do about it?!”
“Fuck them!”
Ben’s mocking voice rang out from a corner of the room.
The atmosphere froze for a split second before everyone roared back in unison.
“Fuck them!”
“Yeah!”
Seizing the momentum, Malone barked, “The Spurs look down on us? Fine! We’ll make them respect us with pure strength. Grab your gear—we’re going up there to fuck them up!”
...
Popovich watched as the Kings stormed out of the tunnel, a sly grin spreading across his wrinkled face.
“Good. That’s the spirit.”
On the bench, the Spurs sat motionless, their expressions unreadable as they stared at the fiery Kings.
The contrast was striking—stillness on one side, raw energy on the other.
“This is shaping up to be a clash of fire and ice,”
the commentator observed from the Kyoto broadcast booth.
“Exactly,”
his partner added. “Two completely different extremes.”
“The Kings thrive on youth and relentless, fire-like offense. The Spurs, under Popovich, embody cold, methodical precision.”
“Tonight, we’re about to see two distinct styles collide head-on!”
“Oh, and here we go—the game’s underway!”
...
The Kings rolled out the same starting lineup from the last round.
The Spurs, despite giving off an air of indifference, showed through their lineup just how seriously Popovich was taking this matchup.
The Spurs’ starters:
Point Guard – Tony Parker
Shooting Guard – Danny Green
Small Forward – Kawhi Leonard
Power Forward – LaMarcus Aldridge
Center – Tim Duncan
A lineup terrifying in any era.
As the five expressionless Spurs took the court for the tip-off, Coach Malone, unnoticed by anyone else, swallowed hard.
Did his team really have a chance against this group?
Compared to Malone’s nerves, Chen Yilun remained calm in the corner.
No one knew the current Spurs better than him. They looked imposing, but they were far from the juggernaut the world believed them to be.
The pillar that had carried the Silver and Black for nearly two decades was now crumbling.
Take out that cornerstone, and the rest would collapse.
With that thought, Chen Yilun’s gaze hardened, fixing mercilessly on the tall figure standing on the court.
...
The Kings had the first possession.
“Run it at coach’s pace.”
CJ McCollum dribbled slowly upcourt after signaling with his hand.
“Hm?”
Popovich immediately sensed something was off.
Too slow!
Normally, the Kings attacked at breakneck speed—the moment the ball touched hands, everyone was already in motion. Their style was simple: We’re young, we’re strong, and we’ll run you into the ground.
But on this first play, the Spurs’ defense was fully set before the Kings even began moving.
Was it nerves?
Popovich glanced toward the Kings’ bench.
Yet Malone showed no hint of anger. He simply sat, eyes locked on the court.
Something’s wrong...
Before Popovich could piece it together, the Kings made their move.
Butler caught the ball on the weak side. Jokic stepped up for a screen, but instead of driving inside, Butler pulled back off the screen.
In an instant, his defender switched from Leonard to Duncan!
“What’s this?”
The commentator’s voice rose in surprise. His thoughts raced, but before he could sort them out, the situation shifted again.
Butler went straight at Duncan one-on-one.
Facing the youngster’s challenge, Duncan’s face remained calm, unreadable. Even in the twilight of his career, his defense was still among the league’s best.
Butler drove hard to the rim, but Duncan shut him down completely.
“Great defense!”
Parker grabbed the rebound and was already sprinting upcourt before the words were out.
But the moment Parker took off, two purple streaks of lightning burst forward alongside him.
CJ McCollum and Devin Booker cut off the Spurs’ fast-break lanes, one on the left and one on the right.
“This is strange,”
the commentator muttered during the lull.
“By our pre-game analysis, the Kings should be the ones pushing the pace, and the Spurs the ones slowing it down. But look—it’s the opposite! The Kings are playing slow, and the Spurs are running!”
Something about the Kings tonight didn’t add up.
Mike Malone seemed determined to grind out a half-court game, swinging the ball around to create isolation opportunities for Butler.
Some possessions dragged all the way to the final ten seconds before a shot went up.
On the Spurs’ bench, Popovich’s frown deepened. His eyes narrowed into a glare aimed at the Kings’ sideline.
“Mike Malone, you little bastard... you’re playing dirty with me, huh?”
Author's Note
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