Sports Medicine Master System

Thankfully, no one was shifting blame or pointing fingers, but the silence was suffocating. There was a palpable sense of ’as long as it wasn’t my mistake’.

After a moment’s thought, Chen Yu stood up and headed backstage. In the office area, he found a staff member from the media team and asked them a few questions.

By the time he had everything arranged and returned to the court, the fourth quarter was already halfway over.

The Pistons still maintained a 7-point lead.

The score for both sides was still ugly; it felt like the Suns were determined to set a new season-low score today.

But Chen Yu wasn’t too bothered. As he had said himself, losing one game wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

At least it would help them see some things more clearly.

A loud shout came from O’Neal, who once again tried to power up under the basket. He was contested again, and the basketball bounced off the rim.

As soon as he landed, he immediately turned to complain to the referee.

Dick Bavetta, same as ever, completely ignored him.

Chen Yu frowned slightly. ’It feels like the refs are trying to be part of the show.’ The officiating was very loose today.

Loose officiating could be a good thing, but it clearly favored the Pistons.

They weren’t afraid to get more physical on defense.

Chen Yu suspected the league had a hand in it, likely fearing another 4-0 sweep of the Pistons by the Suns. By calling a looser game, they were giving the Pistons a boost to prevent the series from becoming a one-sided blowout.

The Finals ratings were already low enough as it was.

As the final buzzer sounded, the game was over.

The Pistons had won.

to 77, a nine-point victory.

The crucial part was the score. Holding the Five-star Phoenix Suns to a meager 77 points was simply unimaginable.

Chen Yu could already imagine what the post-game press conference would be like, and how the media would tear into the Suns tomorrow.

The players walked off the court with their heads hanging. Skiles stepped forward to offer some encouragement, but it had little effect.

Judging by their reactions, they seemed a bit stunned, not expecting the Pistons to be this strong. But more than that, it was probably their nonchalant mentality—thinking a loss was just a loss. It was only one game, and with the Suns’ strength, they could bounce back immediately.

That kind of mentality was truly fatal.

"Let’s go," Brian sighed dejectedly. "That was an ugly loss."

Chen Yu glanced at the celebrating Pistons on the other side of the court, then turned and walked into the players’ tunnel.

Inside the locker room, the players went about their business. The atmosphere was heavy.

Chen Yu watched for a moment, gave Frank Johnson a few instructions, then left the locker room.

He hadn’t gone far when he unexpectedly ran into someone.

Carl Malone!

He stormed forward, his demeanor aggressive.

Chen Yu frowned slightly and stopped in his tracks.

"What are you doing here?" Chen Yu asked, frowning.

’I’m not worried about Malone hitting me. He wouldn’t dare.’

Malone instinctively reached out to grab Chen’s arm, but he caught himself and quickly pulled his hand back. "Chen, I know I was wrong. I really do. I’ve learned my lesson, and I’ll never do that again. Please, I’m begging you, let me come back."

His face was etched with anxiety.

He had made a special trip to Phoenix for this game, secretly buying a ticket to watch it from the stands.

Chen Yu had told him to just stay home quietly and wait to collect his championship ring.

But Malone never in a million years expected the Suns to actually lose.

And lose so badly!

He was going crazy. If they kept playing like this, how the hell was he supposed to get a ring?

"Chen, the team needs me. I can’t just sit in the stands and watch you guys lose," Malone pleaded. "Trust me, I’ve been training the whole time. I can play right now. I want to help the team win. Please, I’m begging you, let me rejoin the team."

Now Chen Yu understood why Malone had stopped him.

It wasn’t surprising that Malone came to him; after all, he was the one who had decided on the indefinite suspension.

After a moment of thought, Chen Yu shook his head. "Sorry, Carl. I can’t grant your request."

Malone was only suspended; he hadn’t been bought out or waived. He was still technically part of the team and could be reinstated at any time.

However, his mistake was still unforgivable.

"Go home, Carl," Chen Yu said, patting him on the shoulder as he walked past. "Like I told you, just come collect your ring at the start of next season."

’Bringing Malone back now would be the same as overturning all his previous punishments.’

’And most importantly, the team doesn’t need him.’

Malone stared blankly at Chen Yu’s departing figure, then slammed his fist into the wall in a fit of rage.

The game ended at 9:00 PM. By the time everyone had showered and finished their interviews, it was nearly 10:00.

Just then, Frank Johnson announced that everyone should head to the film room and not to leave yet.

"It’s already ten," O’Neal grumbled.

"Let’s go, Shaq. We lost tonight; we need to go over things," Hardaway said, giving O’Neal a tug.

He assumed they were going to watch game tape to figure out where they went wrong in tonight’s loss.

That was a perfectly normal procedure.

However, when the group entered the film room, they found that in addition to the coaching staff, Brian and Chen Yu were also there.

Normally, Chen Yu would have gone home by this hour.

"Alright, everyone."

Chen Yu walked to the front of the room and clapped his hands to get their attention. He then turned on the television. "Sorry to keep you all, but I have something I want to show you."

A man’s voice suddenly came from the dark screen of the television.

Hardaway and the others were stunned—it sounded like Ewing’s voice.

"You know, sometimes I really hate Michael. I see him and I just want to punch him."

An image finally appeared on screen: it was Ewing, sitting on a sofa and angrily waving his fists.

"I want a championship so bad, I dream about it. You know? More than once, I’ve dreamed I was lifting the championship trophy, holding it, kissing it over and over again. Then I open my eyes and find myself hugging and kissing Rita’s arm. And then she slaps me awake! Haha, I can still remember the shocked look on her face."

On screen, Ewing was laughing heartily, but in the room, everyone fell silent.

The scene cut to the locker room. Ewing shot to his feet. "Scott, that’s enough."

"I’m going to play this game like it’s the last one of my career!"

His voice was powerful and resolute, ringing in their ears.

Olajuwon was the first to rise, extending his hand.

Then, one by one, the others rose and placed their hands on top of his.

The expressions of the players in the room grew more somber.

More fragmented scenes flashed by. Back when they were fighting for the franchise’s first-ever championship, the Suns’ internal media team had produced a documentary at Brian’s request.

That documentary had eventually aired on a local television station.

A massive amount of footage had been shot for that documentary. The clips they were watching now were from that B-roll, which Chen Yu had asked the media team to specifically find and quickly splice together.

And they had done it quickly and well.

The room was silent. Hardaway, in particular, found his eyes welling up as memories flooded his mind like a tidal wave.

The final scene showed the team hoisting the championship trophy.

Dan Majerle was in a corner of the locker room, clutching the trophy and weeping uncontrollably.

The footage froze on the presentation of the Finals MVP award.

On screen, Hardaway was hugging Chen Yu tightly. "Thank you for bringing me to Orlando, and thank you for not giving up on me!"

Watching this, the Hardaway in the room could no longer hold back his emotions and covered his face.