Sports Medicine Master System

Chapter 436: Chapter 372: Making Up for a Lack of Money with Sincerity

Duncan came out to set a screen, and Parker made a sharp change of direction, slipping past Duncan and driving toward the paint.

But McDyess, who was a step behind, quickly shifted over to cut him off.

Parker drove deeper with the ball, but just as he was about to shoot, he suddenly fired a pass to the corner.

Bowen caught the ball with no time to make any adjustments.

The young Marion was exceptionally athletic with an incredible wingspan. Having built his career on defense, he definitely had the potential to become a DPOY.

The basketball traced a high arc through the air and dropped into the hoop.

Bowen let out an excited roar.

The Spurs’ bench on the sideline erupted in cheers.

The only exception was Popovich, who, standing on the sideline, simply clapped twice and showed no other reaction.

He glanced at the scoreboard.

to 69. The Spurs were still trailing by 8 points.

The game had reached the fourth quarter.

The third quarter had been the turning point.

Coming back from halftime, the Phoenix Suns made an adjustment. Skiles didn’t bother trying to figure out how to stop Duncan; instead, he abandoned their inside offense, focused on the perimeter, and significantly increased their three-point attempts.

For a team with O’Neal to not use him as the primary offensive weapon could only mean one thing: their other positions were incredibly strong.

And they were.

Hardaway, Poseidon, and Marion could all shoot the three.

To make matters worse, off the bench, Rodney Rogers, Wash Leonard, and Tony Delk could all shoot threes as well.

In the seasons where they were starters, they all averaged over three 3-point attempts per game with a success rate of over thirty percent.

And that wasn’t all. On the end of the bench sat Dale Curry, who had made over a thousand career three-pointers, and Mookie Blaylock, who averaged 7.7 attempts per game in his prime.

If the Spurs possessed this kind of three-point arsenal, Popovich would be laughing in his sleep.

What was even more deadly was that the Spurs couldn’t just expand their defensive perimeter to counter this.

If you defended the three-point line, what about the paint? That was O’Neal, a player who would absolutely dominate you if you gave him even a sliver of daylight.

As he was thinking, McDyess set a high screen, Poseidon cut out, and Hardaway delivered the ball right on time.

He pulled up for the shot immediately.

CLANK. It bounced off the rim.

Under the basket, O’Neal instantly threw his arms out, completely boxing out David Robinson, and leaped up to snatch the rebound.

Popovich had already noticed that in the second half, O’Neal wasn’t even trying to post up for an entry pass. His attention was entirely on grabbing offensive rebounds for second-chance points.

The moment he landed, O’Neal immediately jumped up again.

Duncan, not to be outdone, leaped up at almost the same time, extending his arm and fouling O’Neal on the arm.

There was a thunderous slam, and the rim shuddered.

Duncan raised his hand, his face a mask of resignation.

Just through second-chance opportunities, O’Neal had quietly put up 6 points in the second half.

Rolling his shoulders, he walked to the free-throw line, sank the shot, and completed the three-point play. The lead was back to double digits.

The expression on Popovich’s face turned extremely grim.

Duncan’s evolution represented a quantum leap for the Spurs.

It could be said that the Spurs were now playing the very brand of top-tier, team-oriented basketball that Popovich had always envisioned.

But they were still losing to raw talent.

The Suns’ roster was just too luxurious, too stacked.

They had height, they had superstars, and they had role players. They could score inside and out, they were solid in screening and defense, the entire team was healthy, and their bench was outstanding. Barring a complete meltdown on their part, he couldn’t think of a single weakness.

How were the Spurs supposed to beat a Suns team like this?

With four minutes left in the game, the whistle blew, and Duncan raised his hand, a vacant look in his eyes.

He had fouled out!

Teaming up with David Robinson to limit a dominant, Finals MVP-caliber center from nearly 30 points per game to just 15—the cost was bound to be high.

He had not only committed six fouls, but he had also rested for just over a minute the entire game.

He had also put up 33 points and 6 assists, carrying the team on his back. He had truly left everything on the floor.

And with Duncan off the floor, the Spurs instantly collapsed.

Anyone on the Spurs’ roster was replaceable, except for Duncan.

He was the true heart and soul of the Spurs!

to 80.

A 14-point lead. The game was over.

Thunderous applause echoed from the stands. Whether in victory or defeat, the die-hard Spurs fans would always support their team.

"Tim played exceptionally well. He is a true MVP, and he left everything he had out there."

"And Tony—his drives were a constant threat. He helped us stay in the game."

"David is forever a warrior, relentless. Do you know, after the game ended, his body was in so much pain he almost collapsed on the floor? Ladies and gentlemen, he’s 39 years old. I truly respect him. I’m moved by his spirit."

At the post-game press conference, Popovich ran a hand through his messy hair and praised everyone on the Spurs from top to bottom.

Just then, a reporter stood up and asked, "Greg, what’s your assessment of the Phoenix Suns’ performance? How do you view this loss, and what do you believe was the reason for it?"

Popovich, whose eyes had been dull, suddenly had a flash of fury in them.

He looked at the reporter who asked the question, then scanned all the other reporters in the room. They were all staring at him, their expressions a mix of emotions.

A fire of rage suddenly ignited within him.

"You’re asking me why we lost? Fine, I’ll tell you." Popovich sat up straight and held up one finger.

"They have O’Neal, the most dominant center in the league."

"They have Hardaway, who’s a combination of Magic Johnson and Jordan. He’s an All-Star, a multiple-time All-NBA First Team selection."

"They have McDyess, who’s a top-tier, All-Star power forward."

"They also have Shawn Marion. And make no mistake, that kid is going to be an All-Star."

Popovich ticked off his fingers one by one. "On top of them, the Phoenix Suns have Sabonis, who has destroyed David before, and Oakley, a former All-Star and All-Defensive First Team member."

"And we’re not done yet. They have two more former All-Stars on their bench: Kevin Willis and Mookie Blaylock."

"You see? I’ve run out of fingers on one hand."

Popovich shook his left hand at the reporters.

Just with their All-Stars alone, the Phoenix Suns could field a starting lineup and still have players left over.

"And most importantly, they’re all healthy and able to play. So, are you still going to ask me why we lost?"

Popovich demanded loudly.

The reporters in the room were a little stunned, glancing at one another.

As if he still wasn’t done, Popovich continued, "Do you know what this feels like? We’re like a squad of soldiers who trained diligently for years, finally got our guns, and marched onto the battlefield. And then? Our goddamn opponents show up in UFOs carrying laser swords."

"I’m sorry, I cursed, but that’s the reality of it. When every other team in the league has one star, maybe two, they somehow have seven. You tell me, is that fair?"

"The fans want to see an exhilarating, back-and-forth, fair fight, not a one-sided slaughter."

"If the championship is already predetermined, then why do we bust our asses for 82 regular-season games and fight like hell to make the playoffs? To serve as their background decoration? If that’s the case, then I’m sorry, but I refuse to be a part of it!"

Popovich shot to his feet, turned, and stormed out of the room.

He left a crowd of reporters reeling in his wake, their eyes then lighting up with excitement.

Sloan had fired the first shot, and George Gand had followed with his sharp sarcasm. A storm was already brewing.

And Popovich’s rant had clearly whipped that storm into a frenzy.

Every reporter could feel it: a huge story was about to break!

As Popovich left the press conference area, he ran right into Callesimo in the hallway.

"Feeling better now?" Callesimo had clearly heard Popovich’s earlier rant.

Popovich took a deep breath and nodded emphatically.

He felt utterly relieved, from head to toe.

He had wanted to say all this since last Summer, but he had held it in, because no one knew just how well the veterans who had joined the team would actually play.

Now Popovich had seen it for himself. It was a complete rout; they were no match at all.

Callesimo sighed and followed Popovich toward the locker room. After a few steps, he couldn’t help but say, "Greg, sometimes I really think you’re too impulsive. You shouldn’t have been the one to say all that."

It had been a few days since Ma Long announced he was joining the Phoenix Suns, yet only a handful of people across the entire league had come out to protest.

The vast majority had remained silent.

You could have just waited for someone else to speak up. Why did you have to be the one to stick your neck out?

Most importantly, you’ll make enemies.

Especially Chen Yu. No one in the entire league wanted to get on Chen Yu’s bad side.

Callesimo believed a major reason so many teams in the league were staying quiet was that they were wary of provoking Chen Yu.

Popovich snorted. "Forget it. I bet they were all waiting for me to say it first. If that’s the case, then I’m happy to grant their wish."

From assistant coach to GM to head coach, he’d been grinding in this league for many years. His whole brand was built on speaking the truth and not being afraid to call people out.

"Alright." Since Popovich had put it that way, how could Callesimo argue? After a moment of thought, he added, "Greg, have you considered what the final result of all this will be?"

"No matter how much we feel like the Phoenix Suns are cheating, they’re still operating within the league’s rules."

They paid the luxury tax they were required to, and they got the number one draft pick through pure luck.

A whole squad of veterans willingly signed for the minimum salary to join them. What can anyone do about that?

Chen Yu’s pull is strong, sure, but the man is just a team doctor.

Callesimo thought it over and over, but he couldn’t predict what the final outcome would be either.

It’s not as if Stern can just open his mouth and forbid the Phoenix Suns from doing this. That would be a true violation of the rules.

Popovich shook his head. "I don’t know either. But we have to protest. The league has to take some kind of stance, otherwise it’s the interests of every team that will be harmed. Especially with Chen. Peter, I saw in the media that Chen already signed an extension with the Phoenix Suns, ten million for three years. Do you think if we offered five million a year, we could poach him?"

Popovich wasn’t worried about the outcome for the time being. What he wanted to do now was use this opportunity to poach Chen Yu.

Everyone knew that the core of the Phoenix Suns’ so-called "sunset squad" team-building strategy was Chen Yu!

Callesimo grimaced and said with a serious expression, "I feel like that’s going to be difficult. There are plenty of teams in this league with deep pockets."

Like the Pioneers, for example.

That Paul Allen loves basketball so much he’s thrown a hundred million at it without winning a title. You think he’d be unwilling to spend a tenth of that on Chen Yu to attract a bunch of veterans for a championship run?

Most importantly, Chen Yu is a team doctor. You don’t have to worry about the salary cap or max contract restrictions. As long as the owner thinks he’s worth it, no one can say a thing about how much they pay him.

If Chen Yu ever truly decides to leave the Phoenix Suns, there will undoubtedly be a massive bidding war for him.

At that point, it would just be a contest of financial strength.

A stingy team like the Spurs definitely wouldn’t be able to compete.

Popovich nodded in complete agreement.

The Spurs really were poor!

"Peter, I actually don’t think Chen is a person who’s motivated by money."

Back when he was making a few hundred thousand or a million or two a year, didn’t Chen Yu still work diligently in Phoenix?

"I’d rather try to win Chen over with sincerity."

If you don’t have enough money, you make up for it with sincerity.

"Here’s the plan: I’ll contact Chen tomorrow. You come with me, and we’ll talk to him together." With Chen Yu in San Antonio with his team, it was the perfect opportunity to build a rapport.