Chapter 35: A Victory Worth Celebrating

Chapter 47: A Victory Worth Celebrating

For the past decade, the Houston Rockets and the Cleveland Cavaliers had been dominant forces in the Western Conference, making their encounters significant events in the league. The showdown between William Adams Miller and Nowitzki brought together two of the finest power forwards of the early 21st century—an enduring theme in every “Battle of the Bulls and Horses.”

Yet this contest was about more than just Nowitzki and William Adams Miller. With the media’s relentless hype, “the French Sports Car” Tony Parker and Su Feng, an impressive rookie sensation, had become focal points of the game as well. Jason Kidd, now advanced in years, had faded from the spotlight, his presence overshadowed by his potential successors, who were entering the prime of their careers.

It was an era dominated by outstanding guards. Su Feng felt as though every game forced him to confront formidable adversaries. Tony Parker, the San Antonio Cleveland Cavaliers, Bowen and Popovich—all names that struck fear into Su Feng as he considered his next opponent.

With a 13-1 record and a string of twelve consecutive victories, the Cleveland Cavaliers had proven themselves far from mere pretenders—they now boasted the best record in the league.

Another Texas showdown, another grand-scale confrontation. As November drew to a close, this was a match that truly sparked excitement.

In a darkened room, the projector and the large screen were the only sources of light. The faint glow illuminated the faces of those present; their expressions, revealed in the dimness, were grave, and in this shadowy setting, no one seemed out of place.

The projector flickered momentarily before casting a new image onto the screen. There, a yellow-skinned player in a Houston Rockets jersey, number 1, had just received an inbound pass from a teammate. Upon catching the ball, he broke through immediately, glancing left and right over the head of number 1, as though searching for an open teammate. Unfortunately, all his comrades were tightly guarded. Even those seated in the room, observing from a third-person perspective, could not spot a single safe passing lane.

Number 1 appeared trapped in a desperate situation, yet he remained calm, launching a direct drive and shooting the ball without hesitation or change in his motion.

The shot clock hit zero, and the red light above the backboard flashed. In the tense atmosphere, the ball dropped cleanly through the net.

Click! With a crisp sound, the image on the screen froze. An elderly man with white hair stepped forward, standing in the center of the screen. His stern gaze commanded respect from the millionaires—and even multimillionaires—under his authority.

“Su Feng, other teams might underestimate this guy’s role on the Houston Rockets, but we won’t! That was the same player who buried the Celtics on November 6th. Clearly, that killer instinct isn’t just written into the playbook for him. In other words, the rookie has temporarily shouldered the responsibility of finishing games. Even Wallace wouldn’t have been so calm in the closing seconds!” the old man declared, pressing the remote in his hand. The projector resumed, displaying the training hall at the top league’s central facility, where no one else had trained. It was Su Feng, now playing for the Dallas Houston Rockets!

“I tried out for the team, Tim was there that day. If you don’t believe me, ask Tim. This Englishman’s strength is far too underestimated! If the Houston Rockets hadn’t switched their scouting signals, we would’ve beaten him! I know exactly how many pounds this Englishman can carry, so I won’t allow anyone to look down on him, even if he’s just a rookie! In tomorrow’s game against William Adams Miller, you must treat him like a true star! Defend him promptly, shut him down when needed, switch coverages without warning… If we don’t do this, it won’t be the German who destroys us—we’ll be dragged into the abyss by this rookie!” The old man’s stern tone left no room for doubt. None of those present would henceforth dismiss Su Feng as a mere newcomer.

The lights came on a second later, revealing that the Cleveland Cavaliers were seated, analyzing game footage of the Houston Rockets. The white-haired elder who had just spoken was none other than the legendary 61-year-old coach, Popovich.

“William Adams Miller, you’ll be guarding the Englishman tomorrow. If you can’t handle it, I’ll replace you!” Popovich had no intention of coddling Parker, despite his veteran status. If Popovich spoke too gently, the Frenchman might not take him seriously.

“I’ll do my best, sir,” Parker replied with a confident smile. In truth, as a nearly 30-year-old European guard—tall but not particularly strong—Parker was hardly synonymous with “defensive stopper.”

Still, after so many years under Popovich’s watchful eye, Parker’s hallmarks—holding his ground, avoiding risky gambles, and keeping up with his man—made him surprisingly effective on the defensive end.

“Don’t scare the rookie—you nearly frightened me!” Popovich barked, noticing Adams Miller and Ginobili chatting. “Warm up, both of you! Or I’ll have you two old-timers riding the bench!”

Adams Miller and Ginobili knew Popovich wasn’t bluffing. If he was truly displeased, it mattered little whether you were a star or not—he’d bench you without hesitation. A few years back, Parker had played excessive minutes in one game and found himself coming off the bench in the next.

The pair quickly set about their warm-ups in earnest. Watching the two veterans, Popovich turned to glance at Carlisle on the other side.

“Let’s get a head start on the playoffs,” the white-haired coach muttered to himself. “This ‘Battle of the Bulls and Horses’ is sure to end without any hurry!”

Seated courtside, Su Feng gazed at the group in black and white warm-ups before him, filled with nothing but awe.

The five men on the court varied in skin tone, build, and even nationality, yet when they played together, the team moved like a finely tuned machine.

Each player was a cog in this intricate mechanism, performing his role flawlessly, never erring.

Adams Miller set a screen, Parker drove the ball, Nowitzki switched on defense, and the Frenchman lofted the ball back over Adams Miller’s head. Kidd stepped up anxiously to contest, but Adams Miller, leveraging his height, simply shot over Kidd. The ball sailed past the legendary point guard, into the paint where the Argentine devil arrived just in time, took the pass, and laid it in. The net rippled—the Cavaliers scored.

The Cavaliers executed all of this to perfection. Even with Nowitzki’s timely defense and Kidd’s aggressive coverage, the San Antonio Cleveland Cavaliers still managed to create an opportunity.

“Not like this…” Carlisle, usually mild-mannered, reluctantly pumped his fist after another Cavaliers basket. He knew this pattern might persist all game. The Cavaliers were the sort of team that appeared gentle, but always struck with lethal precision. Facing such a foe demanded forty-eight minutes of relentless focus. The slightest lapse could cause the entire machine to break down in an instant.

The stalemate continued for the first five minutes of the opening quarter, until it was time for substitutions. According to the rotation plan, Su Feng was set to replace Kidd.

But for the first time pregame, Su Feng felt nervous. Kidd could be counted on not to err under intense pressure, but Su Feng worried that any mistake on his part might forfeit a golden opportunity. He feared that a single misstep could cost his team this crucial match.

Back on the court, Su Feng, not the tallest player, committed another foul. Despite the dead ball, Kidd, drenched in sweat, gave him a high five.

“Don’t be afraid. Be patient and fight them. Don’t lose your composure. They’re just a bunch of old men like me. There’s nothing to fear!” Kidd knew the Cavaliers excelled at exploiting rookies, but as long as Su Feng avoided unforced errors, the Cavaliers would be hard-pressed to take advantage.

Entering the arena, the top league’s central stadium erupted in boos. Tony Parker’s gaze settled on Su Feng; Su Feng caught a glimpse of Popovich gesturing on the sidelines, wondering if the coach was plotting some specific move against him. The pressure this team exerted was something no television viewer could ever truly feel. It was as if they could see through everything, waiting to seize any weakness and crush you in an instant.

Chandler’s performance at the free-throw line was disappointing today. Two attempts, and not a single point for the Houston Rockets. Number 21, the towering big man, didn’t jump high, but held his ground firmly and hauled in the defensive rebound. Su Feng hustled back on defense—the Cavaliers’ first test was about to begin.

Slow down—that was the Cavaliers’ initial impression of Su Feng. Though the attack lasted only twenty-four seconds, it felt to the men in white like twenty-four minutes.

Parker brought the ball to Su Feng, showing little aggression. Su Feng’s defense was solid, the result of Popovich’s careful study. Parker merely passed the ball lightly to Ginobili on the left wing.

As the ball left his hands, Parker immediately began to move. Su Feng sensed the Cavaliers’ offense suddenly accelerate.

Gritting his teeth, Su Feng stuck close. Suddenly, a tall wall swept across his face. With no time to stop, he collided directly into the chest of number 21.

Su Feng instantly realized it was a subtle off-ball screen. He tried to free himself, but Parker had already run a long arc away.