Chapter 397: The Blue-Purple Showdown (6)
“Durant steps beyond the three-point line! Green is right in front of him! He pulls up for three!”
“It’s good! Kevin Durant has killed the game!”
After Durant knocked down that three, the lead stretched to six.
Only thirty seconds remained for the Warriors.
Curry caught the pass, sprinted into the frontcourt, and immediately flung up a three on the move.
“Clang!”
The rushed shot bounced hard off the rim, exactly as expected.
Jokić and Siakam were already in position, sealing off both sides of the paint.
Jokić rose high for the rebound, clutching the ball tightly to his chest and giving the Warriors no chance to swipe it away.
Seeing that, Green—pinned behind Jokić—could only reach in and commit a tactical foul.
“Roar!”
A deafening wave of cheers erupted throughout Golden 1 Center.
Even after the whistle, Jokić continued to hug the ball tightly.
It wasn’t until the referee reminded him several times that he finally snapped out of it and handed the ball over.
“Don’t panic! We’re in control!”
Gay could no longer stay seated, shouting from the sideline toward Jokić.
“DeMarcus, you’re in!”
Malone glanced toward the bench out of the corner of his eye and made his decision.
Jokić was heading to the free-throw line, and if he missed, Malone needed enough height on the floor to fight for the rebound.
On top of that, Cousins’ mobility had recovered significantly over the course of the season.
Even if Jokić missed and the Kings failed to secure the board, they would still have enough speed and size to defend against a Warriors fast break.
In a situation like this, there was no such thing as being too cautious.
Standing at the line, Jokić took a deep breath. Staring at a rim he knew so well, it suddenly felt a little unfamiliar.
After steadying himself, he slowly raised the ball and shot under everyone’s gaze.
Swish!
The first free throw dropped cleanly.
Golden 1 Center erupted.
One more!
Jokić tilted his head, paused for a beat, then dribbled once and released the second shot.
The ball traced a beautiful arc through the air. The instant it left his hand, chaos broke out in the paint.
A mass of muscular bodies collided, no one willing to give an inch.
The ball bounced on the front of the rim—then rolled in.
The Kings’ lead was up to eight.
“Get back! Get back!”
The moment the ball left his hand, Jokić was already shouting. Murray and Booker, stationed on the perimeter, sprinted back on defense from opposite sides.
Curry did manage to score after racing into the frontcourt.
But there simply wasn’t enough time left for the Warriors to close the gap.
When the final buzzer sounded, Curry slumped to the floor, eyes unfocused, mechanically chewing his mouthguard.
“It’s over.”
Green slowly walked up to him and extended a hand, forcing a smile.
“This year’s run ends here.”
“Yeah.”
Curry gave a small, relieved smile, reached out, and took Green’s hand, letting him pull him up.
“See you next year.”
“Of course.”
At some point, Thompson had come up behind them.
“The three of us—we’ll always be together.”
...
...
“Amazing! Just incredible!”
In the studio, Barkley was still caught up in the brutal final moments, unable to pull himself out.
Beside him, Kenny Smith smoothly picked up the conversation.
“With the Kings–Warriors series coming to an end, the conference semifinal matchups are now set.”
“In the West, it’ll be the Kings versus the Lakers. The long-running showdown between LeBron James and Kevin Durant—the battle of kings—may finally reach its conclusion this year!”
“And over in the East, Leonard put together a ruthless run of upsets, but ultimately fell in the Eastern Conference Finals to Giannis Antetokounmpo and the Bucks, who will represent the East in the Finals.”
“This postseason has been full of surprises at every turn.”
Barkley couldn’t help but sigh in amazement.
“It’s like all the major powers taking turns to challenge the throne—but Sacramento stays seated at the top, waiting for whoever comes next.”
“So what about the games ahead, Sir Barkley?”
Seeing Barkley still savoring the moment, Smith smiled and asked.
“Especially out West—Kings versus Lakers. What’s your prediction?”
Riding the high, Barkley failed to notice the trap Smith had laid and launched right in.
“Kenny, Kenny, you’ve really put me on the spot.”
“If this were the end of the regular season, I’d pick the Kings without hesitation. This Sacramento team just doesn’t seem to have any weaknesses.”
“Offensively or defensively, they’re the most complete team in the league right now, balanced at every position. The Lakers managed to hold things together thanks to James and George taking pay cuts, but the chemistry still isn’t quite there.”
“But now Butler’s injured—and that changes everything.”
After a brief pause, Barkley continued.
“We used to think the Kings were unbeatable because they had both the sharpest spear and the toughest shield. But now that shield has a crack.”
“Still, judging from the Warriors series, even without Butler, the Kings’ defensive system held up pretty well. Anunoby, Siakam, even Caruso—they all stepped up.”
Smith jumped in with a follow-up.
“No, no, no.”
Barkley shook his head repeatedly.
“The reason the Kings’ defense worked against the Warriors is simple—the Warriors’ wings just don’t have enough firepower. Those big, properly sized wings on the Kings could use their lateral movement to sweep across and cover the defensive hole left by Butler.”
“But the Lakers are different.”
“Both James and George are elite shot-creators on the wing. Malone could rely on that roaming, sweeping defense against Golden State, but that trick won’t necessarily work against the Lakers.”
A glint of mischief flashed in Barkley’s eyes.
“Years of basketball have shown that zone defense doesn’t really bother LeBron. What he truly fears are elite one-on-one defenders.”
“And the Kings don’t have that kind of player right now.”
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