Sports Medicine Master System

Chapter 441: Chapter 377: Don’t Tell Me You Have the Same Goal as Me

"Champion!"

"Champion!"

Popovich looked around. The fans in the stands were a surging mass, their unified chants echoing throughout the entire arena.

He glanced at the scoreboard with a bitter expression.

to 87.

With a minute and a half left in the game, the deficit was still a full 14 points.

"Peter, we’re still no match for the Suns," Popovich sighed softly.

Their victory in the last game had briefly given him the illusion that the Spurs could still turn this around.

Now, it seemed that was all it was—an illusion.

The Suns, who had been leading 2-0, had clearly gotten complacent.

Or perhaps, they hadn’t expected Duncan to explode like that.

They had made specific adjustments for this game, and although Duncan still contributed 27 points, he clearly couldn’t decide the outcome this time.

Thinking back on that game, you could actually see some signs.

The Suns had maintained a lead throughout the first half.

And they held that lead all the way until the fourth quarter.

The Spurs’ comeback happened in the fourth quarter, when Duncan erupted for 19 points, catching the Suns completely off guard.

The Suns simply didn’t have enough time to adjust, and then they lost.

So, there was an element of surprise to it.

After all, Duncan had only scored 19 points in the entire first half; no one could have imagined he’d score that much in the final quarter.

Callesimo sighed and comforted him, "It’s okay, Greg. The next game is at our home court. If we win that one, we still have a chance."

Popovich shook his head. As much as he hated to admit it, he had to: there was still a significant gap in strength between the current Spurs and the Suns.

’In the playoffs, clever tricks are one thing, but strength is what’s fundamental.’

"A loss is a loss."

Popovich took a deep breath, his tone one of resigned defiance. "At the post-game press conference later, I’ll just keep scolding them. The league wants to hide in its shell? Not happening."

Callesimo didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

After the Spurs won the last game, Popovich had been nothing but pleasant at the press conference. He’d spouted words like "fluke" and "good luck," unbelievably humble. He had even praised the OP Duo, called Hardaway great, and said they had almost turned the game around.

And now? The moment they lose, he’s ready to start cursing again.

With the series at 3-1, the Suns could already see the light of the Western Conference Finals.

「The day after the game, far away in Los Angeles.」

In the morning, Jackson was in his office, flipping through scouting reports.

With the offseason beginning, Jackson’s most important job was to strengthen the roster.

The Lakers had the 24th pick in this year’s first round, and Jackson was still thinking about reinforcing the front line.

He perused the scouting reports, comparing them against the potential predictions Chen Yu had provided, searching for a suitable target.

Jackson didn’t know what others thought of Chen Yu’s potential assessments, but he, for one, was a firm believer.

’When it comes to training, Chen Yu really knows his stuff.’

Just as he was looking, Kupchek pushed the door open and walked in.

Sitting down across the desk, Kupchek glanced at the large pile of scouting reports, knew what Jackson was up to, and asked if he had found any suitable targets.

"This one’s not bad." Jackson placed a scouting report in front of Kupchek.

"Brian Cook?"

Kupchek had some recollection of the name.

From Illinois, and had been named Mr. Basketball of Illinois.

"I remember his defense being pretty bad, right?" Kupchek said with a frown.

He was a black player, but he played like a white player who was afraid of contact—poor physique, not much athleticism, and preferred to float on the perimeter and shoot.

"We already have Tom."

If they wanted a power forward who was good at shooting from the outside, the Lakers already had one in Gugliotta, who had proven himself in the past.

Wouldn’t he be better than Brian Cook?

Failing that, they could also try to keep Horry, who would definitely be more useful than Cook.

Jackson sat up straight. "This is just my preliminary thought; I haven’t decided who to pick in the end. By the way, Mitch, have you considered trying to trade up to pick that Wade kid?"

"Him?"

Kupchek was taken aback.

A while ago, when Chen Yu’s assessment report came out, Wade was in the spotlight for a bit, and it caused quite a stir.

Some thought Chen Yu was exaggerating to grab headlines, that Wade’s potential wasn’t that high.

But another segment of the media believed Wade had extremely high potential and that Chen Yu’s judgment was correct.

"He’s a bit old for a rookie, and he’s undersized for a shooting guard. As for playing point, his turnover rate is very high, and he didn’t show any extraordinary playmaking ability in college."

Wade’s playmaking stats weren’t that impressive; his style was more that of a shooting guard.

"Most importantly, if we want to trade up, we’ll probably have to give up a lot to have a chance at him."

They didn’t have the right trade assets, and mortgaging the future for a single rookie was a huge gamble.

"I know." Jackson crossed his arms. "But I still believe in Chen Yu’s eye for talent. His judgment should be very accurate."

Kupchek gave a wry smile. "Phil, are you putting a little too much faith in Chen Yu?"

Especially this season. For example, with Yao Ming’s development, Jackson had completely followed the training manual Chen Yu had originally provided.

Jackson, however, wore an expression that said it was only natural. "He’s right, so why wouldn’t I believe him?"

After a pause, Jackson added, "Mitch, I think next season, we might need to shift our team-building philosophy. We should move away from focusing on interior offense and pivot to the perimeter."

"What do you mean?"

Kupchek was stunned.

For the past few years, the prevailing thought in the league was still that the inside game reigns supreme.

Jackson’s gaze grew profound. "First, I don’t think we can find a player who can contend with Shaq in the short term."

Teams across the league have been searching for a player to counter O’Neal for years.

But they’ve never found one.

Before, when they had O’Neal, Jackson didn’t need to worry about this. But now that O’Neal was gone, Jackson had actually spent the entire season thinking about how to deal with the Suns.

"Second, from all the signs, I feel like the league also wants the game’s focus to shift to the perimeter."

’Interior offense isn’t pretty, ratings are low, tickets are hard to sell. The introduction of rules like the defensive three-second violation, in my view, is a sign of which way the wind is blowing.’

"So I want to add more outside shooting next season."

His interest in Brian Cook, for instance, was based on this consideration.

Anyway, O’Neal couldn’t defend the perimeter, not even the version of O’Neal who had successfully lost weight under Chen Yu’s supervision.

Kupchek frowned in thought, then said, "Let’s discuss this later. I came over to ask you... you said before that we should wait until after Greg’s protest to make our move. He was so harsh yesterday, shouldn’t we show some support?"

After the Spurs lost yesterday, Popovich was scathing at the post-game press conference. He complained that the Suns were a spoiler that broke the rules and destroyed the league’s balance, even saying that if they weren’t stopped, the entire league would die.

His words carried incredible weight.

This morning’s newspapers were plastered with discussions about his remarks.

Kupchek felt the momentum had built enough; it was time for the Lakers to join in.

Getting swept 4-0 was a huge loss of face for the Lakers, too.

Jackson nodded. "It is time to say something. But before that, we should do something else first. By the way, have Yao and Kobe left yet?"

Kupchek thought for a moment. "They should be leaving tomorrow."

"Good. We’ll go with them tomorrow."

Jackson stood up. "No matter what, we have to find a way to poach Chen and bring him to Los Angeles."

He knew very well that the ultimate goal of the protest wasn’t to dismantle the Suns, but to get Chen Yu.

If the Suns could build a team of veterans, then with Chen Yu, anyone could copy that model.

The next day, Jackson and Kupchek, along with Yao Ming and Kobe, boarded a plane to Phoenix.

On the plane, Jackson kept harping on Yao Ming, saying that since Chen Yu was of Chinese descent, he must have a special connection to Yao Ming. He told Yao to also put in some effort when they got to Phoenix and move Chen Yu with his sincerity.

Yao Ming was bewildered. ’Chen Yu has a special connection to me? How come I didn’t know that?’

The group arrived in Phoenix at noon.

After a brief rest at the hotel, they immediately took a car to Chen Yu’s clinic.

Today was the pivotal game between the Suns and the Spurs, but Chen Yu hadn’t traveled with the team to San Antonio.

They had agreed to meet at the clinic.

However, they hadn’t told Chen Yu that Jackson and Kupchek were coming, planning it as a surprise visit.

As the car reached the clinic’s main gate, Jackson suddenly waved for the driver to stop.

"Why are there so many reporters?" Kupchek said, peering out the car window.

Outside the clinic’s iron gate, there was a massive crowd of them.

"They look like they’re from the British media."

Kobe glanced over. Having grown up in Europe, he was familiar with the situation there.

He saw not just reporters, but also camera crews shouldering their equipment. He recognized the logos on the cameras: BBC, ITV, and Sky News.

And based on their clothing, style, and features, he could roughly tell they were different from Americans.

Just then, the iron gate opened.

Though puzzled, Jackson didn’t have time to dwell on it as they entered the clinic grounds.

When the car reached the parking lot, Lexi was already there waiting.

The group was no stranger to Lexi. Jackson smiled, hugged her, and even exchanged a few pleasantries about wedding preparations before asking why Chen Yu hadn’t come to welcome them.

Lexi, who had been curious about Jackson’s sudden arrival in Phoenix, led them toward the medical center, explaining, "The clinic took in an unexpected patient. You’ve probably heard of him—David Beckham. He’s injured, and Chen is diagnosing him now."

Even Jackson knew of Beckham, and he immediately understood why there were so many British media outlets at the gate.

Chatting, the group arrived at the medical center.

Lexi led the four of them directly to a consultation room.

Jackson noticed two tall bodyguards standing outside the door like sentinels.

Lexi pushed the door open and walked right in.

Inside, Chen Yu was speaking with an elderly gentleman.

"Phil, what are you doing here?" Seeing Jackson, Chen Yu paused for a moment, then immediately stood up to greet them with hugs.

Jackson chuckled. "I had a few things I wanted to discuss with you, so I just came along with Yao and the others."

As he spoke, he keenly felt the elderly man with glasses beside them watching him with a sharp gaze.

It almost felt like hostility.

The key thing was, Jackson didn’t recognize him; he’d never even seen him before.

Chen Yu made the introduction for Jackson, gesturing to the old man. "This is Florentino Perez, the President of Real Madrid Club."

"Mr. Perez, this is the Lakers’..."

Before Chen Yu could finish his introduction, Florentino interrupted. He walked up with a chuckle, shook Jackson’s hand, and said, "I know. Phil Jackson, the legendary head coach of the NBA."

Jackson’s brow furrowed suddenly.

’Real Madrid, the soccer club?’

He’d seen the news before. Some media outlets had reported that many European soccer clubs were very interested in Chen Yu and had been trying to poach him to be their team doctor in Europe.

’For Florentino to show up at Chen Yu’s clinic at a time like this... he couldn’t possibly have the same goal as me, could he?’