Chapter Ninety-Nine: You Seem to Be Very Tired

"One, two, three, four—Clippers for the championship, crush the whole league."

He Xinghui had originally thought that shouting this out would sound imposing.

Maybe it would even make people see them in a new light.

But in practice, things turned out rather differently.

Aside from him and Kaman, who could shout it out loud without hesitation, the others were all awkward and self-conscious, as if saying it aloud would be humiliating.

Their volume was all over the place, and even the rhythm was messy. It was a rather miserable failure.

Still, at least they had gone through the motions.

For a first attempt, it was barely acceptable. With more practice, they ought to be able to shout it with some real momentum.

"He, do you feel like people are looking at us oddly? Am I imagining it?" Kaman asked guiltily after the chant.

"Chris, this is definitely not your imagination. They really are looking at us." Cassell covered his face.

At his age, having to do something this embarrassing made him want nothing more than to crawl into a crack in the floor.

"Relax. As long as we aren't embarrassed, the embarrassed ones are them. While they're distracted, let's hit them with a surprise attack," He Xinghui said.

Unfortunately, Kaman and the others were in no mood at all.

Just thinking about how childish they had sounded in front of so many spectators made their faces burn.

On TNT, Barkley cracked up at the chant.

"Clowns. They're as ridiculous as clowns," Barkley said.

"Be objective, Charles. I think it helps morale," Smith replied.

"You sure? Just listen to the nonsense they were shouting. Clippers for the championship—that's the funniest joke I've heard all day. The second funniest is crushing the entire league," Barkley said with relentless mockery.

And his view was basically shared by almost every viewer.

A team that hadn't even made the playoffs last season was talking about winning the championship this season? They must still be asleep.

And "crush the entire league"—what kind of thing was that to say?

Even during the Bulls' 72-win season, Jordan wouldn't have dared say something like that.

"It's just a chant to boost morale, not a guarantee they'll actually do it. Before soccer matches, players also shout that they must win. Does shouting that mean they’ll always win?" Smith said.

"Enough. Let's talk about the game."

On the court, the fourth quarter had already begun.

The Clippers completed one possession, and Thomas of the Suns quickly inbounded the ball from the baseline, while Marion had already crossed half court.

With no choice, the Clippers had to burn energy and sprint back on defense.

That was the Suns' strategy in the fourth quarter: speed it up.

D'Antoni was trying to keep forcing the pace even when everyone was exhausted, then use it to wear down the Clippers' stamina and will in one fell swoop.

It was a double-edged strike—wounding the enemy by a thousand while hurting himself by eight hundred.

The Suns' players would be exhausted under this approach too.

But they had one advantage: they trained this way all the time, so they were more accustomed to it.

Teams that didn't play run-and-gun ball, on the other hand, couldn't adapt immediately.

Someone like Kaman simply couldn't keep up. By the time he had run back to protect the basket, he hadn't even caught his breath before Nash launched a three-pointer from beyond the arc.

The shot missed, but Marion crashed the offensive glass and put it back in.

Kaman had no time to rest before he had to sprint back downcourt again.

Although Cassell was trying to control the tempo, Kaman was still exhausted beyond belief.

And it wasn't just him. Maggette, He Xinghui, Brand, and the others were all running on fumes.

At a time like this, there was no solution other than sheer willpower.

On a Clippers possession, He Xinghui cut from the left side toward the middle. Bell followed him, and then Maggette suddenly broke free from Marion, ran over to He Xinghui's side, and gave him a screen.

He Xinghui caught the ball and shot.

Clang. Miss.

Fatigue was one of the biggest factors affecting touch.

Without the slightest hesitation, he immediately got back on defense.

Diaw grabbed the rebound and threw a long outlet pass straight to Nash, who was already sprinting ahead.

Diaw wasn't especially strong on the boards, but his passing was excellent. He was that oddball who was said to be able to play all five positions.

Nash received the ball and pushed in transition, but He Xinghui was already standing in his way.

With a one-on-one chance in front of him, Nash had no choice but to attack.

He drove hard, trying to get by, but He Xinghui stayed glued to him. Then, using his height and wingspan, he sent Nash's shot back with a monstrous block.

"You didn't think all I could do was talk trash, did you? My obsession with winning isn't any less than yours," He Xinghui said coldly.

"That, I really can't tell," Nash shot back.

The impression He Xinghui gave him was that of a young man, frivolous and playful.

Someone like that had a deep obsession with glory?

"Fine, maybe not as deep as yours. But reality is always cruel. I clearly don't want a championship, and yet I'll still win one before you do. Tell me, isn't that ironic?"

"Childish," Nash said, and then stopped paying He Xinghui any mind. He was afraid that if he kept talking, his intelligence would drop.

The Clippers were on offense again, and once more it was He Xinghui leading the attack.

This time he didn't waste the opportunity, burying a long-range shot to give his team a valuable three points.

87 to 88. The Clippers had taken the lead by one.

The Suns kept pushing the pace, and Nash hit a three-pointer of his own.

The two teams traded blows, and after half a quarter, everyone was exhausted like dead dogs.

And yet neither side gave up.

D'Antoni brought Barbosa back in and immediately went with a three-guard lineup, speeding things up once more.

Dunleavy also took Kaman and Cassell out and replaced them with Livingston and Mobley, who had relatively more energy, also in the interest of increasing the pace.

Originally, Dunleavy had wanted to take He Xinghui out as well.

After all, this was only a regular-season game. For the Clippers, winning or losing didn't matter all that much.

He Xinghui's health was the team's top priority.

But He Xinghui signaled that he was fine, and only then did Dunleavy let him stay on the floor.

With four minutes left, He Xinghui swallowed a soldier ration pill and instantly perked up again.

Compared with everyone else, he could practically be described as full of life.

"You all look pretty tired," he said, now that his energy had returned, and began taunting the Suns' players all at once.

Fuck.

Bell and the others cursed inwardly. They couldn't understand it. He Xinghui had done plenty of running earlier too, so by rights he should have been exhausted as well.

So why did he still look so full of energy?

On the next Clippers possession, Brand and Maggette were so tired they didn't even bother running the play properly, so He Xinghui had no choice but to take the ball and go one-on-one.

He isolated Bell and burst past him with a single acceleration.

It wasn't that he had gotten faster; Bell had simply slowed down.

He rose and scored.

As He Xinghui got back on defense, he "happened" to pass by D'Antoni.

"Mike, your run-and-gun system is amazing. It worked so well it practically ran your players to death," he said.

"..."

D'Antoni had nothing to say.

With his team already behind on the scoreboard, he couldn't exactly argue.

At least from the way things looked right now, his tactics really hadn't accomplished much.

"Fuck you, are you looking for a fight?" Barbosa wasn't big, but he had a temper. He came right up to He Xinghui's face.

"I don't bully kids. Go home, drink milk for another two years, grow a little taller, and then come talk to me like that," He Xinghui said with contempt.