The Best Point Guard

An unprecedented sense of sorrow hung over the Dallas Mavericks’ home court. They were keenly aware of the effort they had poured into this season to reach the Finals, and they had always been proud of themselves.

But then, the Finals arrived.

They had been happy for a time, but after two consecutive losses on the road, their joy came to an abrupt end. In the media, their status had shifted from a sure-win to a toss-up, and now, they were merely meat on the chopping block.

They didn’t want to accept this reality.

But that reality was taking shape.

Even the most die-hard Mavericks fans couldn’t imagine how the team could possibly pull off a win at this point.

The Knicks seemed to be full of flaws and weaknesses, but once they took the court and the game started, you’d find they were an impenetrable, steel-forged behemoth.

Little General Johnson, on the other hand, had slept soundly the past two days. Having lost three games, he was free of any psychological burden. The expectations from the team owner and management had shifted from winning the championship to simply ’do your best’.

And the Little General had certainly done his best.

He had racked his brains, but he had to admit that Isaiah Thomas on the other side was simply better. He was better at leading a team, better at motivating players, better at giving players freedom, better at handling pressure, and better at having a baseline for what’s acceptable.

After the last game, the Little General hadn’t studied game tape. He had only studied Isaiah Thomas.

The more he studied, the more he found Isaiah Thomas to be unfathomably deep.

He was clearly a head coach with strong tactical abilities, yet he could humbly accept everyone’s teasing. He could clearly forge the team into a disciplined unit, yet he let his players grow freely and play to their strengths.

He was the club’s president, general manager, AND head coach—arguably the third most powerful person in the entire NBA, behind only Jordan and Pat Riley. Yet he never flaunted his power, even willingly letting fans and the media mock him as a puppet or a courtside mascot.

And that was why he had succeeded. Pat Riley had lost to him and announced his retirement from the front lines. And Michael Jordan hadn’t even earned the right to compete on the same stage as Isaiah Thomas.

’Isaiah Thomas is incredible!’

Little General Johnson thought this from the bottom of his heart. He looked over at Thomas, who was sitting on the bench, legs crossed, looking nonchalant and idle.

But the Little General was convinced: ’This is his camouflage. He’s deliberately acting this way to draw attention to his players. He’d rather be mocked just to prove that his players are great, that they are excellent.’

’How many people in the entire world possess this kind of spirit?’

Therefore, Little General Johnson decided to learn from Isaiah Thomas’s spirit.

In the locker room, he told everyone, "Just play the basketball you’re most comfortable with. If we lose, it’s on me. As long as you’re in the right rhythm, you have the green light to shoot."

At the time, no one in the locker room understood.

When the starters were about to take the court, the Little General repeated himself, adding, "I’ll always be proud of you. Let’s go, fellas."

TWEET!

The whistle blew, and the game began.

Dampier won the jump ball against Eddie Curry.

The Little General yelled from the sidelines, "Nice job, good kid! You’re the bravest man I’ve ever seen!"

Huh?

Dampier felt strange at that moment.

He wasn’t used to this. He thought it would be better if the coach yelled at him; it would put his mind at ease. This new attitude... it was terrifying. ’Is this some kind of high-level sarcasm? Is it because I haven’t been playing well lately?’

On the offensive end, Hardaway passed the ball to Eddie Curry, who posted up against Dampier.

Dampier defended him tightly. His physical resistance made Eddie Curry’s spin move imperfect, and his shot was a little short... CLANG!

The ball bricked.

But luckily, Zach Randolph was a monster. He shoved Nowitzki aside, charged into the paint, and tipped the ball into the basket.

Returning from suspension, Randolph immediately got an offensive rebound and two points upon entering the game.

He was fired up. He beat his chest and let out a triumphant roar.

The game continued.

On the sidelines, Little General Johnson praised Dampier for his excellent defense just now.

He also reminded his players to play the basketball they were comfortable with.

His behavior, however, made the Mavericks even more cautious. They ran their plays with meticulous detail.

After all, when a hot-tempered guy suddenly changes his tune, you naturally suspect he’s being sarcastic or plotting something foul.

SWISH!

After his teammates’ movement drew the defense away, Nowitzki hit a jumper from the high post.

Randolph really couldn’t guard him out on the perimeter.

Ever since the first game of the Finals, the Knicks hadn’t found a way to stop Nowitzki. And they still hadn’t.

But that didn’t matter.

The Knicks never planned on winning by shutting down their opponent’s offense.

Their philosophy for winning was simple: as long as we score one more point than the other team, we win.

So, on the next possession, the Knicks gave the ball to Zach Randolph.

Randolph posted up on Nowitzki. The Mavericks swarmed him with a double-team. Su Xi cut in from the side, Randolph passed the ball, and Su Xi leaped up for a two-handed slam dunk.

Even though the Mavericks were now filled with a sorrowful, vengeful spirit that seemed capable of creating a miracle...

...there are no miracles in real life.

The Knicks could simply beat the Mavericks, and with the addition of Randolph, they were like a tiger that had grown wings.