Chapter 164: A Different Level of Match Intensity

On the evening of the 22nd, at the Staples Center.

Amidst the passionate cheers of the DJ, the players took to the court.

The Clippers were currently experiencing a surge in ticket revenue and jersey sales, and had even replaced their DJ with someone who possessed a much more enthusiastic voice.

The game got underway.

With Maggette sidelined due to injury, the Clippers' starting lineup shifted to Cassell, Mobley, Xinghui He, Gasol, and Kaman.

Xinghui He was once again pushed to the small forward position to match up against McGrady.

Originally a proper shooting guard, he was forced by Dunleavy into becoming a swingman simply due to the team's roster limitations.

The Rockets' starters were Alston, Wesley, McGrady, Juwan Howard, and Yao Ming.

Their lineup had its flaws as well; Mickey Mouse Wesley, who possessed the height of a point guard and the skill set of a shooting guard, was prone to getting exploited when facing tall shooters.

The opening tip-off went up, and McGrady locked his eyes firmly on Xinghui He, seemingly on guard against any sudden sneak attacks.

After all, Xinghui He had pulled off an opening-second quick shot last time.

Suffering humiliation once was enough; if Xinghui He were to pull that off again, the Rockets would become the laughingstock of the league.

This time, McGrady was overthinking it. Xinghui He was living a life of frugality and thriftiness in order to fully upgrade his attributes to B-tier.

Yao Ming tipped the ball, the Rockets pushed the pace up the court, and Xinghui He trailed right behind McGrady.

"Must feel pretty terrible not winning the AMVP the day before yesterday," Xinghui He asked.

"Still better than you, you didn't even qualify to step on the court," McGrady retorted.

"Even my news articles while sitting on the bench outnumber yours, and honestly, you know as well as I do that I'll be a regular All-Star from now on. But you? How many more times can you make it? One? Or maybe two?" Xinghui He asked with a smile.

The harsh truth always hit where it hurt most. McGrady hurried away, whether to find an open shooting space or simply out of fear of Xinghui He's trash talk remained unclear.

Xinghui He continued to chase after him; dropping trash talk certainly never interfered with his defense.

At that moment, Yao Ming had already established position in the low post, receiving the pass with his back to the basket.

Then, with a head fake, he shook off Kaman and turned to drive along the baseline.

He hadn't been far from the rim to begin with, and after taking two steps following his drive, he was right under the basket.

Without needing to shoot or dunk, he simply 'laid' the ball up into the rim.

This move was Yao Ming's signature Shanghai Waltz; its power was undeniable, but it consumed a tremendous amount of stamina.

The initial burst of speed on the drive was essential; otherwise, had Kaman reacted in time, the scoring opportunity would have vanished.

Kaman's slowness was only relative to NBA forwards and guards; compared to an ordinary person, Kaman was actually not slow at all.

Seeing Yao Ming execute the opening play in this manner, Dunleavy on the sidelines was quite pleased.

If they could drain Yao Ming's stamina in the early quarters, falling behind on the scoreboard didn't matter at all.

The Clippers went on the offensive, with Mobley playing isolation against Mickey Mouse.

Possessing a height advantage, he created a sliver of space past Wesley with a subtle shake before pulling up for a jumper.

Regrettably, he missed.

Having returned to the starting lineup and matched up against a player he could bully, he was far too eager to showcase his skills.

The difference between a superstar and a mere star often boiled down to consistency; a superstar's floor was much higher.

When facing favorable matchups, Mobley could occasionally explode, but superstars operated at that level the vast majority of the time.

Yao Ming and Kaman leaped simultaneously, and Yao Ming, playing it safe, tapped the basketball out to Juwan Howard.

Rebound statistics could not entirely reflect a player's dominance in the paint.

Some players required teammates to help box out just to grab a rebound—their stats looked pretty, but their actual impact was average.

Others, however, would tap the basketball directly to teammates; while it didn't show up in the box score, their rim protection was exceptional.

The ball reached Alston's hands, and the Rockets slowed the pace down, waiting for Yao Ming to cross half-court and set up in the half-court offense.

Kaman continued to single-cover Yao Ming, tempting Yao Ming to attack him in isolation.

Alston was caught in a dilemma. He certainly wanted to pass the ball to McGrady, but the problem was that McGrady was tightly entangled by Xinghui He, and the passing lane didn't look particularly promising.

Still, Alston chose to let McGrady try his luck.

The ball reached McGrady's hands. Failing to get past his defender on the drive, McGrady attempted to settle the possession with his signature pull-up jumper.

Though slightly taller than Xinghui He, he still couldn't completely shake off Xinghui He's contest.

What was worse, his shooting touch seemed a bit off today, and his very first attempt resulted in a brick.

Such a shot was far too easy to contest.

"Is this how you blindly heave? Do you think this is some carnival shooting game?" Xinghui He mocked.

"Shut your mouth. Your trick of judging wins and losses based on a single possession is outdated," McGrady countered.

Previously, some bored anti-fans of Xinghui He had conducted statistical analyses on the internet regarding Xinghui He's various trash-talk remarks.

They had synthesized several patterns, one of which was Xinghui He's fondness for hasty generalizations.

He frequently ignored when opponents played well or their overall merits, constantly hammering away at a single mistake or specific weakness of his opponent with repetitive mockery.

That particular anti-fan had issued a warning to players across the league not to let Xinghui He's trash talk get to them.

Clearly, McGrady had read that analytical article and was well aware of the psychology behind it, refusing to feel depressed over a single missed shot.

"Is that so? Then let's talk about the big picture. This season, is your field goal percentage even reaching forty percent?" Xinghui He asked with a grin.

McGrady: "......."

His shooting percentage this season was indeed eye-wateringly poor, fluctuating right around forty percent—even Allen Iverson was shooting more accurately than him.

The Clippers attacked. Xinghui He used a screen from Mobley to shake off McGrady, forcing a defensive switch from the Rockets that left McGrady guarding Mobley, and Wesley guarding Xinghui He.

The ball found its way to Xinghui He, who rose up and shot right over Wesley.

There was a height difference of nearly fifteen centimeters between the two, and factoring in wingspan, Xinghui He stood a whole head taller than his opponent.

Swish. The shot went in, leaving Wesley with an expression of pure helplessness.

"Kid, go back and drink milk for a couple of years to grow taller before you come back out to play basketball," Xinghui He remarked.

Wesley opened his mouth, then swallowed his words back down.

The coach had explicitly instructed them not to speak to Xinghui He.

The Rockets took their turn on offense. Wesley returned the favor by setting a screen for McGrady, blocking Xinghui He's path.

Following that, McGrady pulled up to shoot.

Alas, the ball still refused to drop.

"I gave you an opening, but you just couldn't deliver," Xinghui He said, shaking his head with an expression of profound pity.

[Anger from Tracy McGrady +60.]

McGrady was genuinely furious this time—angry at Xinghui He, and angry at himself.

Afterward, pretending to ignore Xinghui He entirely, he trotted back on defense.

The Clippers advanced the ball. Xinghui He ran a pick-and-roll with Gasol, and following the defensive switch, Xinghui He drove past Juwan Howard with Gasol rolling behind him.

With Yao Ming lurking in the paint, a layup was far from easy even after beating his primary man on the drive.

Thus, the tactical design incorporated Gasol rolling to the rim.

When Xinghui He drew the defensive attention of multiple defenders, he flipped a behind-the-head pass, and the trailing Gasol rose up to catch and slam it home.

Once Gasol gathered momentum and rolled to the rim, he was exceptionally difficult to stop.

This classic combination had been executed multiple times by Kobe Bryant and Pau Gasol in another timeline.

Unfortunately, it now belonged to Xinghui He and Pau Gasol, affectionately dubbed the 'Fatal Ultimate' by fans.

Because Xinghui He's name contained an H, and Pau Gasol's contained a P, combined they formed the video game abbreviation HP (Hit Points).

An ultimate move that consumed HP was invariably a fatal finishing blow.

The Rockets attacked. A trailing Yao Ming appeared somewhat anxious, demanding the ball in the low post to post up Kaman before tossing in a mini-hook shot.

Such bruising play consumed immense amounts of stamina; after all, Kaman's tonnage was no joke, and forcing Kaman back even a single step required expending at least a thousand calories of energy.

"Wake up. With a style of play like yours, you still expect to make the playoffs?" Xinghui He continued to taunt McGrady, though the entire Rockets team caught shrapnel from it.

The playoffs were the Rockets' goal, but standing at twenty-two wins and thirty-one losses, their prospects were grim.

Based on historical experience, at least forty-four wins were required to claw their way out of the Western Conference, meaning the Rockets needed to win twenty-two of their remaining twenty-nine games.

Was that even possible?

Anyone who had even a shred of sobriety would not believe they had a chance.

On CCTV:

"The Rockets cannot afford to play like this; they cannot rely entirely on Big Yao. The perimeter shooting has to get going," Zhang Helei complained.

When the Rockets' guards failed to pass to Yao Ming, he criticized Yao Ming for not receiving touches.

Now that the ball was being fed to Yao Ming, he complained that the Rockets were excessively reliant on Yao Ming.

In short, when a team played poorly and fell behind, every tactical choice looked ugly.

As long as a team held the lead and won the game, even isolation tactics could be rebranded as the triangle offense.

"It's looking a bit sketchy for the Rockets to make the playoffs this year; this game is an absolute must-win," Sun Zhengping stated.

"A-Xing is so inconsiderate. Their team has already won thirty-two games, couldn't they ease up a bit and lend the Rockets a helping hand?" a fan lamented on social media.

"How are you still advocating for match-fixing? Do you understand the spirit of athletic competition?"

"I'm just saying A-Xing doesn't need to try so hard."

"Damn, stop with the moral kidnapping, will you? A-Xing also needs to rack up more wins and elevate his status in the league."

......

Although many Rockets fans knew that asking Xinghui He to throw a game was absurd, they still yearned for a Rockets victory.

However, after being rebuffed by Xinghui He's fans, those in the wrong fell silent, the argument ceased, and both sides returned to watching the game.

On the court, the Rockets' perimeter finally awakened as Wesley knocked down a three-pointer.

A player like Wesley, whose defensive liabilities were glaring, naturally possessed a unique skill set to survive in this league.

His thirty-seven percent three-point shooting accuracy made him the most reliable shooter among the starters and rotation players.

The Clippers launched a fast-paced offensive transition.

Before the defensive players had fully established their positions, Mobley hoisted an early-clock shot from the perimeter.

Though the shot missed, Yao Ming didn't even have time to catch his breath before he had to sprint back toward the frontcourt.

During that possession, he had contributed virtually nothing on the defensive end.

McGrady attempted his fourth shot of the game and finally drained one, prompting a visible sigh of relief. Had he missed that one, the pressure on his shoulders would have become immense.

While losing games against other teams still happened, at least nobody ran around chattering away every time he missed a shot.

Cassell quickly inbounded the ball from the baseline, and Mobley took it up for two steps before whipping a pass to Xinghui He.

Xinghui He was standing a full step beyond the three-point line, and McGrady had not yet closed out on him.

Consequently, Xinghui He launched a sudden, cold-blooded arrow.

By the time he released the shot, Yao Ming had only just lumbered into the paint.

Swish. The ball went through, and Yao Ming held the basketball in his hands, momentarily reluctant to pass it to Wesley, loathing the prospect of inbounding the ball.

However, doing so was clearly not an option.

Fortunately, Van Gundy was on the sidelines frantically signaling Alston to slow down the tempo, prompting Alston to leisurely bring the ball across half-court.

Meanwhile, Cassell charged forward to apply ball-pressure, preferring to let Alston beat him off the dribble rather than allow the Rockets to establish any semblance of pace.

Alston was faster than Cassell; evading the ball-pressure with an instinctive, fluid drive, he blew right past Cassell.

Ahead of him lay a stretch of temporarily unguarded hardwood.

This put Alston in a vexing predicament. With no defender in front of him, he desperately wanted to pull up for a three-pointer.

Yet, Yao Ming had just managed to reach his spot in the paint.

Shooting right then would amount to an immediate turnover in transition, forcing Yao Ming to sprint right back down to defend their own basket.

Conversely, passing up such a pristine opportunity felt genuinely regrettable.

"The Clippers' roster seems somewhat tailor-made to counter the Rockets," Barkley remarked.

The Clippers' perimeter shooting was far more accurate than the Rockets', making them eager to drag the Rockets into a high-paced, chaotic shootout.

The Rockets, on the other hand, were restricted to half-court execution, leaving their players constantly agonizing whenever the Clippers gave them perimeter openings.

Ultimately, Alston hoisted a shot anyway—after all, who didn't have a little bit of a rebellious streak?

Clang!

Alston bricked it.

Van Gundy on the sidelines could only watch and fret anxiously.

"Defense, defense, we need to tighten up the perimeter! We cannot give Xing or Cuttino easy shooting opportunities!"

Van Gundy called a timeout, emphasized perimeter defense, and subbed Wesley out in favor of Keith Bogans, a swingman standing nearly two meters tall.

While his offensive output was modest, his defensive capabilities far outclassed Wesley's.

As a defensive-minded coach facing a deficit, his primary thoughts revolved around bolstering defensive intensity.

Play resumed. Mobley failed to find a clean opening and forced up a brick.

"Give the ball to A-Xing! This is the moment when we need A-Xing's penetration to disrupt the Rockets' defense," Zhang Helei criticized.

On the other end, the Rockets attacked, and McGrady missed a mid-range jumper.

"Feed the ball to Big Yao! This is when Big Yao needs to punish the Clippers down low so Gasol doesn't dare step up to disrupt so easily," Zhang Helei continued offering tactical advice.

In front of the television, a fan ranted: "Understood. Let's just have A-Xing and Yao Ming play one-on-one, the rest of the guys can just go home."

"Not gonna lie, if those two played isolation against each other, I'd gladly watch for an hour," another fan chimed in.

Following that, the viewers devolved into a debate over who would win if Xinghui He and Yao Ming played a one-on-one duel.

Back on the court, the first quarter came to a close with a score of twenty-eight to twenty-seven, leaving the Rockets ahead by a single point.

However, anyone with even a rudimentary understanding of basketball was feeling anxious on the Rockets' behalf.

Their one-point lead had been purchased at the cost of heavily depleting Yao Ming's stamina.

Entering the second quarter, McGrady remained on the floor alongside Alston.

For the Clippers, Mobley and Gasol stayed in the game.

This was the nature of the playoff push: at any given moment, every team kept at least two primary stars on the court to carry the load.

Having endured several dozen games in the early season, teams had essentially gauged the capabilities of every player on their rosters.

As the remaining schedule unfolded, the capable ascended to greater roles while fringe players virtually exhausted their opportunities; the vast majority of teams tightened their rotations to eight or nine players.

By the time the first half concluded, McGrady had logged twenty minutes of playing time, the most on the floor.

Had he played the entire second half out, his total minutes would have reached forty-four.

Conversely, the Clippers distributed their playing time quite evenly.

Xinghui He played fifteen minutes, Gasol sixteen minutes, Mobley sixteen minutes......

Fueled by McGrady running himself into the ground, the Rockets carried a four-point lead into halftime, fifty-five to fifty-one.

The second half commenced.

"I heard you and Kobe are exceptionally close friends?" Xinghui He asked with vibrant energy.

Never mind that he had played just a few minutes less; those few extra minutes of rest left him feeling completely refreshed and operating at a different level.

"So what if we are?"

The sudden shift from relentless trash talk to a normal inquiry caught McGrady off guard, sparking his curiosity.

"Watching a good friend hold three championship rings while serving as the alpha dog of his team must feel pretty bittersweet inside," Xinghui He chuckled.

Most people could accept strangers outperforming them, but watching someone in their immediate circle surpass them easily bred a sense of desolation.

Since Xinghui He's personal collection of accolades couldn't overwhelm McGrady or provoke him, he simply invoked Kobe to do the job.

Hearing this, McGrady's complexion darkened by a few shades before he replied, "He won a championship, and I'm happy for him."

He certainly didn't want others knowing he possessed a jealous streak.

"Oh, is that so? Are you sure?" Xinghui He maintained his punchable smile.

Such words sounded utterly unconvincing coming from a man who refused to even help or coexist with his own cousin.

"I have no interest in discussing this with you."

McGrady demanded the ball, drove to the basket, and laid it up.

Having secured two points, McGrady exhaled a ragged breath.

For the possessions that followed, Xinghui He attempted to toss out more trash talk, but McGrady failed to reward him with a single point of anger.

Clearly, McGrady had entered a zone where he was impervious to outside interference.

Perhaps driven by the desperation to reach the postseason, he had concentrated his focus through sheer force of will.

"The game officially begins now," Xinghui He suddenly blurted out something entirely incomprehensible to everyone else, considering the game was already more than halfway over.

Xinghui He's implication was that he would cease the trash talk and dedicate himself wholly to basketball, overcoming his opponent through sheer execution and hard skills.

Up to this point in the game, he had harvested a cumulative three hundred and thirty points of anger from McGrady, Wesley, and Alston—a rather respectable haul.

Maintaining this pace without spending any points meant he could stockpile close to ten thousand points by the conclusion of the regular season.

The Clippers attacked. Xinghui He darted toward the right wing, and Gasol immediately stepped up to the high post to set a screen on McGrady.

Xinghui He received the pass, elevated, and buried a three-pointer.

The Rockets countered, but Yao Ming missed a hook shot in the paint.

Gasol leaped to secure the rebound and fired a crisp, long outlet pass.

Xinghui He leaked out on the fast break; because he typically floated around the perimeter on defense, he was always positioned to sprint ahead whenever a transition opportunity materialized.

Defending in that manner left him prone to exploitation when facing opponents with lethal penetration.

However, who could argue with him when he was the team's primary star?

If he lost his man on defense, someone else would naturally rotate to cover.

And for his part, as long as he accumulated sufficient scoring numbers, fans would willingly overlook his defensive shortcomings.

At least, that was the dynamic for the first season or two, barring any stagnation in his team's future success that might prompt fans to demand defensive accountability.

Xinghui He easily converted the fast-break two points, bringing his personal tally to an effortless five points on the sequence.

Combined with his fifteen points from the first half, he had already broken the twenty-point threshold.

By contrast, McGrady had ground himself to the bone playing over twenty minutes just to scrape together eighteen points.

The action continued as the Clippers continued pushing the tempo.

Yao Ming shook his head in frustration down in the paint, coughing up another twenty points of anger toward Xinghui He.

During lunch, Xinghui He had explicitly warned him that he intended to run him into the ground, but Yao Ming hadn't expected the Clippers to actually follow through with such ruthlessness—it simply wasn't playing by the traditional code of martial arts.

When the third quarter expired, the scoreboard was deadlocked at seventy-seven all, returning both squads to the exact same starting line.

Yet, the mental states of the two teams diverged drastically.

The Clippers radiated surging momentum, while the Rockets slumped with despondent shoulders, looking for all the world like a team trailing by a landslide.