The locker room at halftime felt even heavier than it had after the first quarter.
A 12-point deficit weighed on everyone's shoulders.
Kobe leaned back against his locker with his eyes closed, sweat still dripping nonstop. His 24 first-half points had come at the cost of massive physical strain.
Link sat silently, sipping water, his mind clogged with frustration—completely smothered by Miami's suffocating defense, unable to find any rhythm.
Phil Jackson stood in the center of the room, his gaze sweeping across his players.
"We're not playing smart enough," he said calmly, breaking the silence.
"We're using what we're worst at to fight what they're best at."
"Kobe," the Zen Master continued, his tone steady but absolute, "we need to move the ball."
Kobe yanked the towel off his head, suppressed fury boiling in his eyes.
"I am scoring! I'm taking on their whole team by myself!"
"I know," Phil replied, unruffled.
"But you've seen it—they're fine letting you score alone. But you can't beat them alone. We need others to step up. And that means… trust."
"Trust?" Kobe's lips curled into a faintly mocking smile as his eyes swept across his silent teammates.
Heads dropped even lower.
Phil's gaze finally settled on Link.
"Link," he said, his voice carrying unmistakable confidence, "you're staying in for the second half."
Link snapped his head up, stunned.
His first-half performance had been borderline disastrous—yet the coach was still giving him a chance.
"Forget the struggles from the first half," Phil said, as if reading his mind.
"I don't need you to lock down Dwyane one-on-one. Your value is simple—knock down the damn shots."
---
The second half began, both teams sending out their main units.
Link remained on the floor. Andrew Bynum replaced Kwame Brown, joining Kobe, Lamar Odom, and Luke Walton.
As the Lakers took the court, the announcer's voice echoed through Staples Center, clearly surprised.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we're seeing an unexpected adjustment! The Lakers are keeping Link in the starting lineup for the second half!"
"That's a bold decision. Phil Jackson is choosing to trust a young shooter who struggled badly on both ends of the floor in the first half!"
His broadcast partner chimed in.
"It really is surprising. Link was almost invisible offensively and completely overpowered by Dwyane Wade on defense. Let's see whether this turns into a stroke of genius… or—"
Link ignored the doubts.
He glanced back toward the stands, where Isabella sat, offering him an encouraging smile.
The Lakers had first possession.
Miami stuck with their first-half strategy—hard doubles on Kobe, daring everyone else to beat them.
Kobe forced a few tough shots with little success. Miami capitalized with fast breaks, keeping the lead above ten.
The cheers inside Staples grew scattered. Anxiety and disappointment crept into the air.
With 8:11 left in the third, Kobe attacked the rim through three defenders and came up empty again. Miami secured the rebound.
Wade pushed the ball in transition like a red lightning bolt, slicing into the Lakers' defense.
Kobe sprinted back and leaped at the same moment Wade took off, trying to block the shot from behind.
Their bodies collided hard in midair.
Tweet!
The referee's whistle shrieked—defensive foul on Kobe.
Wade lost balance in the air but twisted his body with sheer core strength, flipping the ball toward the rim.
It bounced twice… and dropped in.
"And one!" Wade yelled, pumping his fist.
Miami's bench exploded.
A potential momentum-shifting three-point play.
Kobe stumbled forward after landing, hands on his hips, staring at the glaring deficit on the scoreboard, chest heaving.
Sweat poured down his face as he glanced toward the sideline.
Phil Jackson's expression was calm—but his eyes were stern.
As if telling him plainly: keep playing like this, and this game is over.
Wade hit the free throw. The lead ballooned to 17.
Lakers ball again.
Kobe's eyes were still ice-cold—but this time, he didn't force it.
The ball moved—constant cross-screens, handoffs, motion.
A blink-and-you-miss-it opening.
Kobe spotted Link curling off Bynum's screen from the baseline to the left wing.
Bynum's massive frame stonewalled James Posey.
No hesitation.
In a flash, Kobe fired a laser pass through outstretched fingers—right into Link's hands.
Kobe's passing has always been misunderstood.
The media called him a ball hog, said he only saw the rim.
That wasn't true.
He wasn't a traditional playmaker, but his passing skill was elite.
Skip passes, drive-and-dish feeds—his timing was impeccable.
This pass landed exactly where Link wanted it.
No adjustment needed.
Catch. Rise. Shoot.
[Quick Release Lv.2 — Bonus Effect Activated!]
Accuracy increased on high-quality pass!
Link's motion was lightning fast—clean, decisive, no wasted movement.
He didn't even need to see the rim. Muscle memory and skill took over.
Swish.
Finally—on the board.
Link exhaled hard.
The deficit dropped to 14.
Applause and cheers surged through Staples Center.
The bucket came at the perfect moment, stopping the bleeding.
Link didn't celebrate. He turned and sprinted back on defense, eyes locked in.
Kobe watched his back… and his tightly pressed lips finally relaxed.
---
Next possession, Miami missed. Odom grabbed the rebound and handed it straight to Kobe.
Kobe pushed the pace. Link set a lightning-quick screen, then popped out beyond the arc.
Kobe caught him in the corner of his vision.
The pass arrived like a guided missile—right on time.
Catch.
No adjustment.
Posey flew at him, arms fully extended—but Link's release was too fast.
Way faster than a normal two-motion shot.
Swish.
Back-to-back threes!
The gap shrank to 11.
"Defense! Defense! Defense!"
Staples Center erupted.
The fans felt it—hope.
Miami answered with Wade attacking the rim again, drawing a foul. Two free throws—he hit one.
Lakers possession.
Kobe drew the double. This time, Miami's defense hesitated—just one step wider.
In that split second, Kobe fired a no-look bounce pass to Odom cutting inside.
Easy layup.
Ten-point game.
The Lakers' offense came alive.
Once Kobe trusted his teammates—once his passes turned into points—
Miami faced an impossible choice.
Double Kobe?
Stay home on shooters?
Collapse on the paint?
Next trip down, Link shook free again with off-ball movement in the corner.
Kobe delivered the pass—again, perfectly.
Catch. Bend. Rise—
The entire arena stood.
Posey lunged with everything he had—but Link's release stayed smooth and fast.
Swish.
Third three-pointer.
Third of the quarter.
Single-digit deficit.
"BOOM!!!!!!"
Staples Center detonated. Purple and gold waves surged through the stands.
"LINK--!!!"
The announcer's voice stretched into a roar.
"He caught Kobe's pass—he hits it! Three straight threes! He's lit up Staples! This game is back!"
Link finally couldn't hold it in.
He clenched his fist and roared toward the rafters.
All the pressure—released.
Pat Riley was forced to call timeout.
The Lakers' third-quarter counterattack—sparked by Link's three straight threes—had officially begun.