"Aren't you a little too excited, kid?"
Rudy Gay couldn't help but warn Ben as he watched him.
Normally, someone as laid-back as Gay wouldn't care if Ben was bouncing around, but this kid was way too hyped. He kept looking around like an overexcited fan, even waving to the few Kings supporters scattered in the arena.
"I mean, I'm just excited."
Hearing Gay's words, Ben reluctantly pulled his gaze back. "I barely got any minutes in the first two rounds. And now, all of a sudden in the finals, I'm starting. Gay, don't you think I might be the team's secret weapon?"
"Can you use your brain for once?"
Gay rubbed his face in exasperation. "I told you to stop hanging around with that idiot Crowder. Now look—he thinks he's the crown prince, and you think you're the secret weapon."
The reason Ben was starting today was actually simple.
After LaVine's departure, Ben had basically become the Kings' best defensive guard.
As one of the longest-tenured players on the roster besides Gay and Casspi, he was in the right place at the right time.
With a game modeled after Ray Allen, Ben also had some luck. In just his second season, he was there when Coach Chen Yilun arrived. When Chen Yilun launched sweeping reforms, he cleared out the Kings' perimeter unit but made a point of keeping Ben.
In the new Kings system, Ben quickly found his role. He began to shine and make real contributions.
But the good times didn't last. With LaVine, Booker, and others breaking out this season, Ben's minutes kept shrinking. At one point, he was even fighting Bogdanovic and Richardson just to hold onto a bench spot.
Now, suddenly starting in the Western Conference Finals—who wouldn't be excited?
"You better settle down!"
Gay's words brought Ben's overloaded brain back to reality. "The reason you're here is for your defense. See Thompson over there? Lock him down, got it?"
"No problem!"
Ben's eyes burned with fighting spirit as he glared at Thompson.
"Trust me, I've got the shots covered!"
I couldn't be less confident…
Gay bit back the words after holding them in for ages.
Right now, Ben looked like a Chihuahua yapping for a fight.
Anyone watching would probably laugh and call him cute.
But did this little guy really have any bite?
As Gay wondered, the game tipped off.
...
Today's plan was for Jokić to scale back his offense.
The Kings' first play had CJ McCollum isolating against Curry.
CJ danced outside the arc, crossing over repeatedly to force Curry to shift his stance.
Left!
The moment CJ made his move, Curry read it instantly.
So fast!
CJ barely blinked before Curry cut him off.
With his first step stifled, CJ pulled back behind the arc to reset.
The coach had only told him to wear Curry down—not necessarily to score.
Many misunderstood Curry, assuming his smaller frame made him a defensive liability.
But in truth, Curry's physical tools were excellent—his core strength was elite even by NBA standards.
Because of that, his defense was consistently above average for a guard his size.
That's why the Warriors didn't need to stockpile wing defenders like the Celtics just to cover for their backcourt.
Isaiah Thomas: The insults are getting real creative these days.
On the sidelines, Steve Kerr immediately picked up on Michael Malone's intent.
I really overestimated you.
Kerr shot Malone a dismissive glance.
People called Michael Malone a tactical genius. But from where Kerr sat, he wasn't much at all.
When the playoffs came down to execution and reading the floor, was this all he had—just the same three tricks?
Kerr's disdain wasn't baseless.
The Kings had leaned on the same approach last round too.
The idea was simple: stagger the physical matchups, use less important players to wear down the opponent's stars, and create better conditions for your own stars.
At first glance, it made sense. But at its core, the flaw was obvious.
Malone always positioned his team as the underdog, avoiding star-for-star clashes.
It showed his lack of confidence.
And yet… something was different.
Kerr narrowed his eyes. The Kings' tactics weren't the same as before.
Last round, their offense was relentless, like a pack of wolves tearing at Tim Duncan, that aging bear-lion.
This time, though, the Kings' offense was noticeably more patient. Their hunger was still there—but they hid it better.
"So that's why you shut down the trade talks?" Kerr's face grew colder. "You were hiding something, weren't you? Saving it for me?"
"It's like being stalked by hyenas."
"Want to turn up the pressure?"
Alvin Gentry slid up beside him with a sly grin.
Kerr shot him a knowing look, then flashed a hand signal to Curry on the floor.
The Warriors caught on instantly and adjusted.
The tide of the game started to turn.
...
"You're not calling that?!"
Malone's eyes bulged as he watched the Warriors players set one borderline screen after another—some of them blatant moving screens.
"You're seriously allowing that?!" he shouted at the refs.
The sideline referee, whistle clenched in his mouth, glanced at Malone with guilt but said nothing.
The league had instructed them to loosen up on screen calls for this series. But that wasn't something they could openly explain to a coach.
"Timeout!"
Frustrated, Malone called it.
"Coach! This is unplayable!" CJ cursed as he came off the court. "When Green sets a screen, he's basically jamming his leg into my crotch. How the hell am I supposed to defend that?"
Hearing his players' complaints, Malone slammed the clipboard down.
"If they're not going to play fair, then neither are we."
"When we get back out there, no more holding back. If they run moving screens, we run them too! Jokić, stay on the perimeter—don't go inside. I want to see how many times their bigs can take our hits!"