Chapter 132: The Deciding Move
At Chen Yilun’s words, a spark of hope flickered back into Malone’s eyes.
“Really?” Malone asked cautiously.
“Why don’t you try it yourself and find out?” Chen Yilun casually wiped the wine stains from his hands onto his suit. “You get back to work. I’m heading out for another drink.”
With that, Chen Yilun staggered out of the locker room.
“How much has he had to drink?” Malone asked, staring at Chen Yilun’s already tipsy figure.
“Five or six glasses, maybe. He hasn’t stopped since the game began,” Peja replied, standing beside Malone, sounding a little guilty.
“Ridiculous!”
Malone jumped at the number. “What kind of assistant are you? How could you let him drink that much?”
“How should I know?” Peja said helplessly. “He insisted. Said it was to mess with the other team.”
“Mess with the other team???”
Malone froze, then scratched his head in confusion. “How does drinking mess with the other team?”
...
Meanwhile, inside the Spurs’ locker room.
Popovich stared at the still-blank whiteboard, silent for over a minute.
“What’s wrong with Coach?”
David West, new to the team this year, nudged Tony Parker with his elbow and whispered.
He’d been with the team nearly a year, but he had never seen Popovich like this before.
“Shh!”
Parker quickly signaled West to keep quiet. He sneaked a glance at Popovich, and when he was sure the old man wasn’t paying attention, he lowered his voice.
“The old man’s like a volcano about to erupt. Whoever steps up is getting burned.”
“Why?”
West kept his voice so low only the two of them could hear. “Aren’t we leading?”
“Being up at halftime doesn’t mean anything.”
Parker gave West’s thigh a light pat.
“First, the Kings forced Coach to burn through all his plays. And second…”
Parker swallowed, lowering his voice even more.
“You know Yilun, right? The Kings’ GM.”
“I know. Wasn’t he the old man’s protégé?”
“He’s been playing mind games all night.”
Parker shuddered as he spoke. “From the very start, he ordered a drink and just kept smiling at the old man.”
“Every time their eyes met, he’d raise his glass in a toast and drain it in one go.”
Parker shook his head, still unsettled. “That little bastard actually dared to tease the old man. Nearly rattled him to pieces in the first half.”
At that, West nodded knowingly and fell silent.
Having fought on the court for decades, Popovich had few weaknesses—but as his direct disciple, Chen Yilun knew them well.
Such off-court tricks might be disgraceful, even shameless, but they worked.
In this tense atmosphere, Popovich finally gave a brief outline for the second half as halftime came to an end.
“Not much of a change, huh.”
Malone crossed his arms, murmuring as he studied the Spurs’ formation.
“What change could he even make? Hic!” Chen Yilun hiccupped, smacked his lips, and muttered, “The only thing is letting Tim Duncan rest a little longer.”
“The decisive moment is coming.”
Just as Chen Yilun had said, both coaches had exhausted their tactical options in the first half. The second half would come down to pure strength—fist to fist, body to body.
And that was exactly what Malone and Chen Yilun wanted.
When it came to tactics, no matter how much they trained, they couldn’t outmatch Popovich. Their only chance was to drag the Spurs into the mud.
“Run motion!”
That was Popovich’s last instruction before halftime ended.
“Motion” meant abandoning rigid plays, giving players freedom to read and react. It demanded exceptional chemistry and high basketball IQ.
And right now, the Spurs had no shortage of high-IQ players, making the motion system second nature to them.
(Side note: If you don’t know what “motion” looks like, search for the Spurs’ five-man passing play against the Timberwolves—it’s the perfect example of the system in action.)
Sure enough, once they switched systems, the Spurs’ offense started flowing again. Meanwhile, the Kings once more found themselves in danger.
“This motion offense is really tough.”
Malone bit his left thumb, eyes locked on the ever-changing court.
“Jimmy, see if you can break them down,” Gay whispered to Butler, equally frustrated.
“I’ll try.”
Butler’s eyes sharpened as he fixed his gaze on the Spurs.
Gay’s point was clear: the Spurs’ greatest weapon was their flawless team system, but their biggest weakness was the lack of a true alpha.
After all, this year’s Leonard wasn’t yet the unstoppable force he would one day become.
That was why the Spurs always struggled against peak Kobe Bryant or Shaquille O’Neal. Against an absolute superstar, even perfect team basketball looked fragile.
Now, someone on the Kings had to step up and become that savior.
Butler stared coldly at the Spurs players, his body trembling ever so slightly with anticipation.
“Is it today?”
He whispered the words to himself, as if asking some unseen presence above.
All his weakness and compromises had been left behind in the cold autumn winds of his thirteenth year.
His mother’s abandonment, the world’s rejection—those had forced him to harden himself again and again.
But today was different.
Butler raised his head to the glaring spotlights above AT&T Center, his eyes burning with near-mad obsession.
“Today’s the day!”
He snapped his gaze back down, caught the pass, and began driving forward step by step.
It’s you. I’ll tear you apart and use your bones as my ladder to climb higher!
I am the deciding move!
Author's Note
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