Chapter 92: LaVine Explodes
“Our play is simple: start with Horns, then Booker pulls defenders at the top of the key. That opens space for Zach to shoot threes. Got it?”
In the Charlotte Hornets’ visiting locker room, Coach Malone was scribbling furiously on the whiteboard.
“Got it!”
The Kings players, huddled around him, answered quietly.
They didn’t think much of Malone’s tactical tweaks. Since CJ’s injury, the team was still adjusting, so whatever play Malone called wasn’t surprising.
But Rudy Gay picked up on something in Malone’s setup.
He lifted his head, narrowed his eyes at Malone still drawing, and gave a knowing smile.
Outside the locker room, Chen Yilun played with his phone, glancing around idly.
Suddenly, a tall figure entered his line of sight.
The newcomer wore a perfectly tailored suit, showing off an athletic frame in full.
Sensing Chen Yilun’s gaze, the man turned. Their eyes met.
The man quickly recognized him, flashed a charming smile, and walked over. “You must be Yilun. First time meeting, huh?”
Chen Yilun shook his hand, a little excited.
“Yes, you’ve always been my idol, Mike.”
The GOAT. The Hornets’ owner.
Michael Jordan grinned. “Thanks, thanks. Let’s swap numbers—keep in touch.”
That night, the Hornets rolled out their strongest lineup against the Kings:
Kemba Walker, Nicolas Batum, Al Jefferson, Marvin Williams, PJ Hairston.
Chen Yilun’s gaze drifted to the Hornets’ bench, where a towering spiky hairstyle instantly caught his attention.
Jeremy Lin, now looking more like a rebellious teenager than an NBA player, also noticed Chen Yilun. The two exchanged a nod from afar as a greeting.
“That’s your hometown guy, right?” Coach Malone had noticed Lin’s drastic new look. “What happened to him? Didn’t he look sharp with that short cut before? How’d he end up like this?”
“What do you mean ‘hometown guy’? No way!”
Chen Yilun waved his hands quickly, distancing himself.
...
The Kings’ first offensive possession after tip-off went just as Malone had drawn it up.
Jokić and Gay set a double screen high, freeing LaVine for a shot.
But maybe it was nerves, maybe he just wasn’t warm yet—though he had space, LaVine bricked the shot.
“Clang!”
The ball bounced off the rim. Jefferson grabbed the rebound and quickly outletted to Walker.
“Go! Go! Go!”
Walker, the quintessential old-school point guard, caught the ball and exploded upcourt.
In just two strides, he was already across halfcourt.
But just as Walker thought he had a clear fast break, a purple blur came flying up behind him at full speed.
It was Zach LaVine!
The moment LaVine released his shot, he knew it was short. He sprinted back almost at the same instant Walker started his break.
“This kid’s relentless!” Walker muttered, then suddenly slowed down.
It was a classic fast-break trick: the offensive player decelerates right in front of the trailing defender, hoping to draw a collision and a foul.
But the crash never came.
Walker didn’t see it, but everyone else on the court did.
The moment Walker braked, LaVine recognized the trap. Unable to stop outright, he twisted mid-stride, using sheer core strength to redirect. He slipped past Walker’s side in the air.
“How did he get past me?!”
Walker’s eyes went wide as LaVine cut him off, shutting down the fast break single-handedly.
Realizing he couldn’t score easily, Walker pulled the ball back and waited for his teammates to reset.
“LaVine’s leveled up again,” Malone said, watching with pride.
“Yeah, shame about the timing,” Chen Yilun agreed with a nod.
If only the team had more time, Chen Yilun would’ve loved to nurture these rookies himself. He was sure their growth under him would surpass what they achieved in the original timeline.
...
The Hornets’ halfcourt offense stalled.
Jokić grabbed the rebound and handed it off to Gay, who strolled the ball across halfcourt.
Think you can force me into a fast break? Not happening.
In the set offense, the Kings ran a play to clear out for Gay.
Matched against Marvin Williams, Gay used a string of between-the-legs dribbles to pressure him.
It was a Harden specialty, but Gay often used it himself. Each move closed the space on Marvin—if the defender backed off, he could step back for a jumper; if not, he could blow by in one step. A deadly weapon either way.
But just as Gay was about to attack Williams, he spotted a familiar figure cutting from the corner, streaking into the open paint.
“Perfect cut!” Gay praised silently.
Ignoring Williams, he lobbed the ball high toward the rim. But the instant it left his hand, he cursed—too high!
Yet LaVine sprinted, rose, and caught it anyway. With his head nearly level with the rim, he threw it down.
The lob was so high he didn’t even dunk with his wrist—he powered it through with his elbow.
“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! That’s insane! Is that even human anatomy?!”
The broadcast booth erupted.
“Top play of the day for sure! You don’t see a finish like that more than a few times a season!”
Landing, LaVine quickly celebrated with his teammates before sprinting back on defense.
As he ran, he glanced at his arm—reddened from smashing against the rim. It felt like a weight had just been lifted.
“Bro! Let me iso this one!”
LaVine shouted to Gay before the Hornets could even get set.
Seeing the look on LaVine’s face, Gay understood instantly.
“Got it. Play free. I’ll screen for you!”
Gay knew it right away—LaVine was in the zone.
In that state, the body automatically adjusted to peak condition, following every signal from the brain.
In short, LaVine had become a ruthless scoring machine.
The zone wasn’t unheard of in the league. The GOAT sitting courtside was one of its true masters.
Jordan’s greatness was in how easily he could reset his mind, bringing his body completely under control.
(Those aren’t my words—Magic Johnson said it himself in the Dream Team documentary.)
Author's Note
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