Watching the Kings glide through another possession and score with effortless flow, Thibodeau felt the world spin around him.
He knew that set all too well. The play the Kings had just run was unmistakable—wasn't it the famous Princeton offense from the early 2000s? He never expected Malone to pull off such a reverse-meta move, dragging the Princeton system back onto the playoff stage.
"Whoa—whoa!"
In the domestic broadcast studio, Mike Breen stared at the screen and couldn't help but exclaim.
"Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. How many years has it been since we've seen ball movement this clean?"
Mike Breen's strong reaction had a lot to do with the arrival of the small-ball era. Once small-ball took over, traditional pass-and-cut systems inevitably declined.
After all, those systems required long periods of practice and intricate execution just to create a single scoring chance. By comparison, small-ball pick-and-roll basketball was far simpler—spread the floor and let shooters fire away.
That was exactly why many old-school fans felt uncomfortable watching modern basketball.
The fast pace and high possession counts championed by the small-ball era made the game feel monotonous, even crude, to longtime viewers.
So under those circumstances, seeing the Kings suddenly roll out such an old-school style naturally delighted Mike Breen.
Mike Breen's partner for today's broadcast was once again Jeff Van Gundy. After chatting for a bit, the director signaled a cut back to the live feed, muting both commentators' microphones.
"How do you feel about today's game?"
Mike Breen pulled a bottle of mineral water from under the desk, took a sip, and asked casually.
"Are we even needed for this one?"
Jeff Van Gundy was busy looking at something on his phone. "There's no suspense at all. Whether it's playoff experience, star quality, or tactical execution, the Timberwolves don't have a single area where they can match the Kings."
"What are you watching?"
Seeing Jeff Van Gundy so engrossed, Mike Breen leaned over curiously.
"The other game today. LeBron's finally run into real trouble."
Jeff Van Gundy handed the phone over. On-screen, the two teams were locked in a fierce battle.
...
...
"Bang!"
Giannis Antetokounmpo muscled Kevin Love aside in the paint, then exploded straight up and hammered the ball through the rim.
"Roar!"
After landing, Giannis let out an unrestrained roar in the face of the deafening boos filling Quicken Loans Arena.
"This kid has no respect at all!"
Love rubbed his aching chest, frustration written all over his face.
Over the past two years, his decline had been obvious. To fit the team's system, Love had slimmed down to improve his mobility.
The price he paid was a noticeable drop in his ability to protect the paint.
"Bro, let me take him."
Seeing Love in pain, Thompson couldn't help but speak up.
From the opening stretch, the Bucks had relentlessly targeted Love. Now well into the latter half of his career, Love was steadily being overwhelmed on defense by the rapidly ascending Greek Freak.
On the other end, LeBron James was also locked in a brutal struggle.
To deal with LeBron, the Bucks put Middleton, Bledsoe, and John Henson on the perimeter. They weren't worried about offensive flow—only about using a rotation of defenders to withstand LeBron's attacks.
Normally, this strategy wouldn't trouble the Cavaliers much. Once LeBron was contained, Irving would unleash nonstop firepower from the perimeter, forcing defenses to shift their focus and easing the pressure on LeBron.
But the Cavaliers no longer had Irving. Clarkson and Hood, his replacements, simply couldn't replicate Irving's terrifying scoring output. That allowed the Bucks to load up entirely on LeBron without fear of getting blown up elsewhere.
"There's hope. Real hope!"
Watching LeBron struggle, Bucks head coach Jason Kidd grew visibly more excited by the second.
The entire Eastern Conference had suffered under LeBron for years, and this season was the perfect opportunity. If they could pull this off, they'd finally have real standing in the East.
"Fellas! Push harder—they can't hold on much longer!"
During the timeout, Kidd held up the tactics board and fired everyone up.
"The Cavaliers aren't that unbeatable team anymore! As long as we get through this stretch, it's smooth sailing ahead!"
While Kidd was pumping up his squad, the Cavaliers' side fell into an eerie silence.
"LeBron?"
Love called out softly, but James—his head covered by a towel, eyes downcast—seemed not to hear him at all, sitting motionless in place.
LeBron's eyes were locked onto the floor, as if studying the beads of sweat slowly pooling beneath him.
"This can't go on."
He muttered so softly only he could hear.
"Even like this, I can't accept a humiliating loss. I won't."
As he spoke, LeBron slowly pulled the towel off his head and rose to his feet under everyone's gaze.
"We'll stick with the play we designed earlier,"
LeBron said as he looked around the room.
"Trust me. Follow me—I'll take you to the win."
Back on the court, LeBron controlled the ball on the perimeter. Facing John Henson, he suddenly burst forward like a bulldozer, charging straight into the paint.
This time, against Giannis Antetokounmpo's defense, LeBron didn't twist away for a finesse layup like before. Instead, just like in his younger, fearless days, he spread his wings and thundered a dunk straight over Giannis.
"Whoa!"
Chen Yilun, who was secretly watching the live broadcast from the sidelines, couldn't help but cry out, instantly drawing attention from those around him.
"It's nothing—nothing!"
Chen Yilun waved awkwardly, signaling everyone not to mind him.
As a team executive, sneaking a look at another team's game while his own was underway really wasn't a good look.
"This is wide open,"
Chen Yilun smacked his lips and said.
"Wide open. LeBron's seriously fired up—he's ready to fight for the future all by himself."