"Here it comes! Here it comes!"
On Friday night, a long line formed outside Golden 1 Center.
A fan wearing Kings supporter gear rubbed his hands together excitedly.
"Time really flies."
Another unfamiliar fan standing beside him struck up a conversation.
"It feels like we just won the championship yesterday, and now, in the blink of an eye, we're back in the Finals again. It's like a dream."
Sometimes, friendships between men really are that simple.
Several fans waiting to have their tickets checked exchanged smiles and began chatting about the upcoming Finals like old friends who had known each other for years.
"If you ask me,"
a young fan said,
"there's not much to watch in this year's Finals. Last year, even with James and Irving, they couldn't beat us. Now it's just Irving left. What's there to worry about?"
"Young man, that's a pretty shallow take, don't you think?"
an older-looking fan said.
"I've been watching basketball for twenty years. The Finals aren't that simple. This year's Boston team isn't just Irving—they've also got Hayward and Al Horford. Both are solid players."
"Those two don't mean shit,"
the young fan scoffed.
"Horford? A softie who got hammered by James back in Atlanta. Hayward? Someone who couldn't even break through in the West and ran to the East. What's there to be afraid of?"
It wasn't really that the young fan was arrogant—this was just how the league had been these past couple of years.
The old belief that the West was strong and the East was weak was still deeply ingrained. Many people saw the East as a soft conference, a place only players lacking confidence would choose.
It wasn't until much later, with the formation of the Nets' Big Three, that this perception was gradually corrected.
Watching the young man speak so boldly, the older fan chuckled and didn't argue.
Years of watching basketball had taught him long ago not to debate with strangers.
"It's moving! It's moving!"
The crowd up front suddenly stirred.
"Ticket checks have started!"
All conversation stopped as the fans fixed their burning gazes on what lay ahead.
Speculation or predictions—those were all empty words.
Now was the moment to face that future, seemingly certain yet still wrapped in fog.
...
...
"Alright, boys!"
Malone boomed as he strode into the locker room.
"After one year, we're back again!"
He glanced around at the players gathered around him.
"Some of you are old friends. Some of you are making your first trip to the Finals with us this year. But that doesn't matter. We're going to win our second O'Brien Trophy together!"
After finishing his pep talk, Malone picked up the tactical board and began drawing.
"Our opponent this year is the Celtics, but their star player is no stranger to us—Kyrie Irving!"
As he spoke, Malone looked straight at Richardson, who was listening intently.
"Irving caused us a lot of trouble in last year's Finals. I'm sure everyone here knows exactly what kind of opponent he is."
"Richardson will be under a lot of pressure tonight. If nothing unexpected happens, they'll still revolve their offense around Irving. So our biggest task today is perimeter defense. Booker, you absolutely have to handle the help defense."
"Understood!"
The Kings players answered in unison.
As the team's chemistry continued to improve, Malone explained tactics less and less.
There was little need for it. With the current Kings roster and their on-court understanding, none of the players were stupid—just a small hint was enough for them to know what to do.
"Stay calm, keep a steady mindset. Go out there and take the game!"
At Malone's shout, the Kings players rose from their seats one after another, pumping each other up as they headed toward the player tunnel.
At the start of the game, both teams were a bit slow to warm up.
As a newly assembled team, the Celtics quickly exposed problems common to all new squads.
Teams that had looked stable throughout the regular season and playoffs inevitably hit a wall when facing the Kings—this overwhelming Finals opponent.
At its core, that wall was simply a lack of cohesion.
Take Durant attacking the paint as an example. Other defenders might move to help, but help defense has its limits.
Do you completely abandon the perimeter and collapse into the paint to stop Durant, or do you just delay him slightly and disrupt his rhythm?
These fine details often come down to players' in-the-moment reactions. There's actually very little a coach can do.
For a team that's been together for years, this isn't a problem. But for a Celtics team that had only been assembled for about a year, it was still difficult.
The Kings' offensive approach today remained their familiar three moves.
Durant drives to tear apart the defense and create opportunities for teammates. If no opportunity appears, Durant isolates.
Jokić waits at the top of the arc, ready to reorganize the offense at any time.
This style clearly puts a heavy physical burden on Durant, but the game had just started. Everyone was still at peak condition, so Malone let Durant fully unleash his offensive talent.
As Durant swung his scythe, the rhythm of the game was gradually pulled toward the Kings.
At the right moment, Malone began to lower Durant's usage rate, switching to a half-court lineup centered on Butler.
"These Kings are really tough to deal with,"
Al Horford said, taking a deep breath.
"Once Butler started taking over, the whole Kings team turned into a solid iron formation. There's just no opening."
"Don't rush,"
Hayward said, trying to reassure him.
"They can't be flawless. Just stabilize our rhythm and don't let them drag us along."
As the two tried to comfort themselves, Irving stood not far away, his expression dark.
As last year's Finals opponent, Irving understood the Kings' strength all too well. Still, deep down, he had always clung to a sense of luck.
Last year's loss had been the Cavaliers' failure—not his. If he had been the leader instead of James's second option, the outcome of that Finals might not have been the same.
Don't think this idea was completely absurd.
That was exactly how the inflated Irving of those years saw things.
But today's game poured a bucket of cold water straight over his head.
He had left Cleveland in anger and become Boston's franchise star. He had even personally eliminated his former big brother James in the Eastern Conference Finals.
And now, he was still getting beaten senseless by Sacramento.
Was there really no solution at all?
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser