svetikya Chapter 42 The entire league's mockery
Chapter 42 The entire league's mockery
In April in San Antonio, the wind still carried the heat of Texas, but the exterior walls of the AT&T Center were already covered with silver and black Spurs flags.
The moment the 2002-03 NBA playoff bracket was released, headlines across American sports media were dominated by "Warriors, the eighth seed in the West, vs. Spurs, the first seed in the West." Not a single media outlet favored the Warriors; on ESPN's playoff probability chart, the Warriors' name was marked with a glaring 0.3%.
「史上最悬殊的首轮对决！60胜22负的联盟第一，对阵45胜37负的残阵勇士，马刺4-0横扫毫无悬念。」
"Lin Hao's internet celebrity miracle has come to an end. Leading the team to the playoffs single-handedly is his limit. Facing the GDP trio and Popovich's ironclad defense, he can't even win a single game."
"The Warriors are just a team that relies on the popularity of internet celebrity Lin Hao. The intensity of the playoffs will make them face reality."
A deluge of ridicule flooded Oakland. In the TNT studio, Kenny Smith, holding a tactical board, shook his head and said, "I bet the Spurs will finish this in five games at most. Lin Hao is indeed good, but his teammates aren't even as good as the Spurs' reserves. As long as Popovich unleashes his BOX-1, the Warriors' offense will be completely paralyzed."
Barkley was about to retort when Smith shut him down with a single sentence: "Charles, don't talk to me about miracles. The Spurs are the defending champions, their Big Three (Tim Duncan, Tony Parker, and Manu Ginobili) are in their prime, and the Warriors? Three of their starters are injured, and the bench is full of undrafted players or veterans nearing retirement. This isn't a basketball game; it's adults playing against children."
The Spurs' pre-game press conference was filled with arrogance.
Popovich leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen in his hand, a signature dry wit on his face: "Warriors? I know them. That Chinese kid who can play the suona is funny. But the playoffs aren't a circus. You can't win by playing the suona and eating canned peaches. We'll show them what the real NBA playoffs are like in four games."
French sports car stylist Tony Parker smiled easily: "Lin Hao is fast? But in my eyes, his breakthrough routes are as clear as if they were written on paper. I'll show him the difference between the Euro step and the American breakthrough."
Manu Ginobili added insult to injury: "All he can do is dunk and blow his horn? That's perfect, our inside game will prevent him from even getting a chance to jump."
Only Duncan remained expressionless, saying only one sentence to the camera: "We will focus on our game and win."
These words sound understated, yet they carry the undeniable confidence of a defending champion.
Meanwhile, inside the Oakland Warriors' training facility, the curtains were drawn tightly shut, preventing even a ray of sunlight from getting in.
Lin Hao sat in front of the tactics board, his eyes bloodshot. On the table in front of him was a thick stack of videotapes, and next to him were a dozen or so empty cans of yellow peaches. He had been working for three days and three nights straight to dismantle the Spurs' tactics.
From Duncan's low-post turnaround habit to Parker's passing lanes after pick-and-rolls, to Ginobili's serpentine breakthrough timing, and even Popovich's timeout patterns and the Spurs' bench rotation order, he meticulously wrote them all down in his youth training notes with a red pen.
"The core of the Spurs is Duncan's low-post playmaking; the triangle offense relies entirely on him to orchestrate the offense." Lin Hao pointed to the interior position on the whiteboard, his voice hoarse from staying up all night, yet still clear and strong. "On the defensive end, we collapse the paint, cut off Duncan's passing lanes, and let him isolate, preventing him from leading the whole team. On the offensive end, they will definitely use a BOX-1 to defend me, but don't panic. Just run to an open spot and shoot decisively; the ball will definitely get to you."
He paused, then drew three different offensive and defensive strategies on the whiteboard: "I've prepared three sets of tactics, one each to counter the Spurs' zone defense, man-to-man defense, and switch-everything defense. As long as we execute them correctly, we have a chance to win."
His teammates surrounded him, their eyes filled with determination. In the final stages of the regular season, it was Lin Hao who led their depleted roster from tenth to eighth in the Western Conference. Now, they had unconditional faith in this young man from Northeast China.
Richardson slammed his fist on the table and yelled, "Let's just do it! So what if they're the Spurs? We even beat the Lakers' OK duo, what are we afraid of their GDP?"
"Yes! If Canned Food Bro says he can win, he definitely can!"
Lin Hao smiled, reached out and tore off the ESPN advancement probability chart pasted on the wall, crumpled it into a ball and threw it into the trash can, then covered the locker room walls with the newspapers that mocked them.
"Look at this, these are what others say about us." Lin Hao's voice suddenly rose, his Northeastern accent carrying a fierce, unyielding determination. "They say we're pushovers, that we can't win a single game, that we're just here to make up the numbers. But we Northeasterners are never afraid of tough opponents! The more they look down on us, the more we'll prove them wrong!"
"Defeat the Spurs! Create a Cinderella story!"
The team's roar shook the glass of the training hall.
Outside the training hall, Zhao Dabao was directing workers to unload boxes of canned yellow peaches from a truck. A total of 200 boxes, all of which he had shipped from Fengtian, Liaoning Province; even customs officials almost thought he was smuggling fruit.
"Move them carefully! Don't bump or knock them! This is our Warriors' winning buff!" Zhao Dabao wiped the sweat from his forehead and said to Harris beside him, "I'm telling you, with these cans, Haozi is guaranteed to win."
Harris adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, holding a thick stack of documents: "I've submitted an appeal to the league, listing the Spurs' home-court advantage violations in the playoffs over the past three years, and demanding that the league change the refereeing team. Meanwhile, the domestic media has already hyped it up; the topic of 'Black Eight Miracle' has already topped the trending searches, and domestic fans are all waiting to see Haozi make history."
With two agents providing dual support, one handling logistical support and the other managing public opinion and regulations, they did everything they could to the best of their ability.
As evening fell, Zhang Qingying dragged her suitcase into the training facility. She had turned down all commercial performances and engagements, flying specifically to San Antonio to accompany Lin Hao during the playoffs.
"Here you go." Zhang Qingying handed a heavy box to Lin Hao, her eyes full of tenderness. "This contains 10 handwritten letters of encouragement from fans across China, as well as videos recorded by the children from the Xinghuo Youth Training Camp. They said they would watch the live broadcast from China and cheer you on."
Lin Hao opened the box; inside were neatly stacked stacks of letters, the handwriting childish yet each stroke deliberate, all filled with blessings for him. He clicked on a video; on the screen, hundreds of children wearing matching jerseys, holding basketballs, shouted in unison at the camera: "Go Lin Hao! Beat the Spurs! We believe in you!"
Seeing the children's bright smiles, Lin Hao felt a warmth in his heart, and most of the fatigue from the past few days instantly vanished. He reached out and put his arm around Zhang Qingying's shoulder, whispering, "Thank you, Ying'er. Don't worry, I won't let them down."
Just then, a cold yet clear notification sounded in Lin Hao's mind:
[Ding! Host is about to begin the playoffs, triggering the main quest "Black Eight Comeback"!]
[Mission Objective: Lead the team to defeat the Western Conference-leading Spurs, achieve a Cinderella story (upsetting the eighth seed), and advance to the Western Conference semifinals.]
[Mission Rewards: Temporary 20% boost to all attributes during the playoffs, unlocks the [Dynasty Killer] passive skill, and increases physical talent advancement progress towards S-rank by 30%!]
[Mission failure penalty: None. Warriors who dare to challenge dynasties always deserve respect.]
Lin Hao's eyes lit up instantly. He looked down at the youth training notes in his hand, then looked up at the Spurs logo on the wall, a carefree smile playing on his lips.
A 0.3% chance of advancing?
Others think it's impossible because they haven't seen the ruthlessness of Northeasterners.
He picked up the ebony suona leaning against the corner and gently wiped off the dust. A reporter captured this moment before the game and posted it online, immediately drawing fierce ridicule from Spurs fans: "So you're playing the suona to send them off after losing, huh? Perfect, we'll send you home in four games."
Lin Hao saw these comments, just smiled, and placed the suona in the most conspicuous position on the bench.
He unscrewed a can of yellow peaches, forked a piece of the largest peach and stuffed it into his mouth. The sweet juice slid down his throat, and he felt a surge of energy throughout his body.
"Pack your things, let's head to San Antonio." Lin Hao waved to his teammates, his eyes full of determination. "Let them see how our Northeast Firecrackers overthrow their dynasty."
As night fell, the Warriors' team bus slowly drove out of the training facility, heading south towards San Antonio.
No one knew that a shocking upset, a "Black Eight" storm, was about to unfold at the AT&T Center. And that second-round pick, looked down upon by everyone, was about to write his own legend with the basketball in his hands.