Chapter 387: The Final Showdown Between Protégé and Mentor (1)
“Ladies and gentlemen! The playoffs are here!”
As the arena DJ roared, the atmosphere inside the stadium surged to its peak.
“It’s time, guys!”
In the players’ tunnel, Gay spoke with barely contained excitement. “This is our first playoff game—we have to get off to a strong start!”
“Obviously!”
Beside him, Butler cracked his knuckles, eager to go. “San Antonio’s been a toothless tiger for the past couple of years. They’re not worth making a fuss over.”
“Don’t say that.”
Seeing Butler’s confidence, Gay sighed and still offered a word of caution.
“Popovich isn’t someone you can take lightly. We can’t get careless.”
“Follow me.”
Durant twisted his shoulders and stepped to the very front of the line.
“Isn’t that a bit unusual?”
Seeing Durant take the lead, Gay paused, clearly puzzled.
By Kings tradition, Butler—the team’s second-in-command—should go out first, with Durant coming last to anchor the entrance.
But today, Durant was insisting on leading.
“It’s just an entrance order. What’s there to argue about?”
Durant shrugged casually.
“I’ll go first. You guys follow me. Let’s go get this opening win clean and decisive.”
“This won’t be an easy game.”
On the sideline, Popovich watched the Kings players run out one by one, his expression heavy.
“They’re here to finish us.”
“What’s there to be afraid of?”
Ginobili walked over, dressed in a silver-gray warm-up.
With age catching up to him, Ginobili was clearly in the final stretch of his career. Yet after shaving his head, the veteran oddly looked younger than before.
“Back then, we had too many things to worry about. Now it’s our turn to go all in with nothing left to lose. You haven’t adjusted yet?”
“You little punk.”
Popovich burst out laughing.
Only a protégé who had been by his side for over a decade would dare joke with him like that.
Ever since Leonard left, Popovich had visibly aged.
The player he had once pinned all his hopes on after Duncan’s retirement had failed to shoulder the responsibility—and eventually walked away.
Right or wrong no longer mattered to the old coach.
What was clear was that after Leonard’s departure, the silver-and-black carriage that had been rolling for twenty years was inevitably approaching the end of the road.
As a stopgap, DeRozan was simply not on the same level as Leonard, whether in defensive impact or scoring versatility.
The DeRozan–Aldridge pairing looked passable on paper, but both clearly lacked floor-spacing ability.
Anyone who had watched them play knew that neither treated the three-point shot as a regular weapon.
So whenever DeRozan and Aldridge were on the floor together, the Spurs’ offensive spacing became extremely cramped.
That was why, even though the Spurs still looked lively on the surface, anyone with a trained eye could see it clearly—the glory days of San Antonio were never coming back.
“Still feels a bit awkward.”
Sitting courtside, Chen Yilun watched Murray warming up and muttered softly in Popovich’s direction.
If Chen Yilun hadn’t appeared, the Spurs wouldn’t have ended up without a single young player worth developing.
In that bleak future timeline, Murray had been San Antonio’s crown prince, carrying the city’s hopes for revival on his shoulders.
His eventual trade had also brought the Spurs a massive haul of future assets.
Now, without Murray, it was hard to say where San Antonio’s future lay.
Once the game started, the Kings immediately seized control of the tempo.
The Spurs’ primary offensive options were DeRozan’s ball-dominant mid-range isolations and Aldridge’s post-ups inside.
Aldridge’s situation was particularly unfortunate. When he first joined the Spurs, the team had promised not to force him into positions he was uncomfortable with.
And early on, they had kept him out of the paint.
But after Duncan retired, no one was left to anchor the interior.
Aldridge was forced to take over down low.
Now, however, the Spurs’ two main scoring threats were both being shut down by the Kings.
DeRozan was checked one-on-one by Butler.
With Butler no longer needing to carry a heavy offensive burden, he could devote far more energy to defense.
Without even realizing it, he had turned himself into one of the league’s elite wing defenders.
Against DeRozan, Butler was completely at ease.
As for Aldridge, Jokić held his ground inside, with Durant sliding over to help and sweep defensively.
The Spurs were locked down from top to bottom.
“Think of something!”
On the Spurs’ side, Buford wiped the sweat from his forehead and snapped in frustration.
“What do you want me to do?”
Popovich shot him a sideways glance and replied casually, then turned toward the assistant coaches.
“You got any ideas?”
“Me?”
Udoka, sitting on the bench, froze for a moment.
“Coach, aren’t you overestimating me a bit?”
“Well, there you go.”
Popovich spread his hands.
“You can’t cook without ingredients. With this roster, what am I supposed to do? Look at their lineup, then look at ours.”
“Alright, alright, I give up.”
Buford waved his hands repeatedly in surrender.
Amid the Spurs’ turmoil, Durant came off a screen from Jokić, caught the ball at the top of the arc, and calmly drilled a three.
“Great screen!”
Durant shouted as he backpedaled on defense.
These days, the more Durant played with Jokić, the more he liked him.
Solid screens, high-quality passes, and even reliable output from the perimeter.
Durant was certain that if Jokić landed on almost any team without a clear superstar, he would put up monstrous numbers.
It was only because Durant and Butler were ahead of him that Jokić’s stats hadn’t made a true leap.
“Keep playing like this!”
Butler yelled as he ran back on defense, completely unconcerned about whether the Spurs could hear him.
“They’re really looking down on us!”
Ginobili said, hands on his hips, breathing hard.
Over just a few possessions, the Kings’ rapid ball movement and constant running had already pushed this nearly forty-year-old veteran close to his limit.
“What are you standing around for? Run the play!”
Parker, dribbling past half court, saw Ginobili parked to the side with his hands on his hips and instantly blew up.
“No one’s moving, huh?”
“What are you yelling for?”
Ginobili didn’t get angry at all. He swayed into motion and began running the set play.
Not the slightest hint of resistance left.
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