Glancing quickly at the clock, Old Nelson called a timeout.
He was starting to panic. He had to call a timeout to clear his head and figure out what to do next.
If they didn’t come up with a solution, they were going to lose this game.
"Tang, something’s not right," Harris said through gritted teeth.
Pushing the pace, forcing Olajuwon and Ewing to run through fast breaks—that was their pre-game strategy. It should have worked. Who knew it would turn out like this?
Olajuwon and Ewing didn’t look like they were gassed at all.
The players coming off the court started to complain, too.
"I just don’t get how he does it. After running for so long, he can still keep going," Lafrentz said, utterly frustrated.
Even though he was the center, his range of movement was wider. Olajuwon had been chasing him back and forth, and even at 26, he was getting winded and his legs felt weak. But Olajuwon was acting like it was nothing.
Nowitzki gave a wry smile. In the first half, to wear down Ewing, he not only ran but also constantly banged against him under the basket and fought for rebounds. "I felt like he was getting really tired. But then he comes back from halftime completely revitalized, like he’s full of life again. It’s insane."
The other players were also panting heavily, looking at each other in dismay.
This kind of fast pace, this level of intensity, was getting to be too much even for them. They really couldn’t figure out how two forty-year-olds like Olajuwon and Ewing were holding up.
Willpower?
Even the strongest will has to contend with physical limits.
Just then, Rivers suddenly said in a low voice, "Could it be because of Chen Yu?"
"What do you mean?" Old Nelson looked at Rivers, confused.
Rivers’ brow was furrowed. He spoke slowly, "It reminds me of something. The year before last, when I was still the head coach of the Magic, Hill was out with an injury for a while, so we cranked up the intensity of our training. Back then, the Magic’s roster was also pretty old, and a lot of players were complaining bitterly."
"Around that time, Chen had opened a small clinic in Orlando, right near the arena. Every time after practice, Monte Outlaw and the others would go to him for massages to relax their bodies. In their words, Chen Yu’s massages had some kind of incredible magic that could quickly relieve their fatigue."
"They also said that if it weren’t for Chen Yu, they would have never been able to endure that kind of high-intensity training."
"Could it be that during halftime just now, Chen Yu gave Olajuwon and Ewing massages to relax their bodies?"
After hearing this, Old Nelson and the others were completely dumbfounded.
A physical therapist giving a massage after a game to relax the muscles, release built-up lactic acid through manual techniques, and alleviate fatigue—of course, they all knew about that.
But during a game, in just a fifteen-minute halftime, a simple massage could relieve the fatigue of an entire half? That was just too incredible to believe.
What kind of magic did Chen Yu’s massages have to achieve such an effect?
Old Nelson looked toward Nowitzki and the others, his eyes asking a question.
No one spoke up. None of them had ever tried Chen Yu’s massages.
Nowitzki, however, frowned and said, "I remember during the All-Star Game, I was talking to Hardaway about his recovery. He mentioned Chen Yu’s massages, said they were incredible. Maybe it’s just like Coach Rivers said."
"Can it really be that amazing?" Little Nelson’s face was full of doubt. He knew Chen Yu’s medical skills were excellent, but a massage that could rapidly restore stamina? It was hard to believe.
Silver Fox Harris pushed up his glasses and said, "Perhaps it’s true. His massage therapy must have something special. Otherwise, there’s no way Olajuwon and the others could play through such a long season so healthily. If they didn’t have some special method to relieve fatigue, it would be impossible."
Aside from on-court accidents, fatigue is the biggest factor in player injuries. Over a long season, fatigue continuously accumulates, like a bowstring being drawn tighter and tighter until it finally snaps.
A veteran of Olajuwon’s age playing 80 games this season without any major injuries was, in hindsight, simply incredible.
"Then that’s basically cheating!" Old Nelson cried out.
Forget the regular season; this was the playoffs. For teams that made it to the postseason, what was the biggest problem? Stamina was definitely one of them.
The intensity of the games was completely different from the regular season, the schedule was tight, and a series could go five or seven games.
Why did so many teams hope for a sweep to advance quickly? It was to give their players a few extra days of rest, to face a tired opponent with fresh legs.
To really battle through seven-game series all the way to a championship—the toll it took on the players was unbelievable.
And now, Chen Yu had this ability to rapidly restore a player’s stamina even during a game. If that wasn’t cheating, what was?
You could say that even taking performance-enhancing drugs wasn’t as effective as what Chen Yu could do.
The assistant coaches’ expressions turned grim.
Harris even shot a reproachful glance at Rivers. ’If you knew about this, why didn’t you say so earlier?’
If they had known Chen Yu had this trick up his sleeve, they would have never devised such a strategy before the game. Now, their plan was a complete failure.
"Dirk, Michael!" Old Nelson snapped back to reality, looking at Nowitzki and Finley. "There are still seven and a half minutes left. We’re down by eight, so we still have a chance. Control the pace. We can’t go any faster. We need efficiency."
Pushing the pace had drained the Mavericks’ energy and lowered their offensive efficiency.
Now that they knew pushing the pace was useless, there was no point in going fast anymore. They had to slow down and ensure they made their shots.
"You’re the stars. I need you to step up and win this game for us. We have two road games, and we have to win one. We still have a chance in this one because Hardaway came back too soon and his form is terrible," Old Nelson said in a low, serious voice.
In the playoffs, when both sides were giving their all, after stripping away tactics, stamina, and all other factors, the ultimate test was the ability of the star players.
And watching today’s game, Old Nelson could feel it: on paper, the Mavericks were not as good as the Phoenix Suns.
A Phoenix Suns team with a full roster was terrifyingly strong.
But they had a chance now because Hardaway had likely rushed his return and was in mediocre form. If they gave up on this game, then in two days, on the 24th, a rested Hardaway and the Phoenix Suns would be even harder to deal with.
If they lost both road games, the Mavericks would be in real danger.
Nowitzki and Finley looked at each other and nodded firmly.
’You’re the star, you’re getting the team’s highest salary. If you don’t step up, who will?’
The timeout ended. Skiles immediately noticed that the Mavericks had slowed their pace and were starting to run their plays methodically, aiming for efficiency.
"Are they giving up?" Jim Boylan turned to look at the opposing bench.
Old Nelson still stood on the sideline with a grim expression, his thoughts unreadable.
"I suppose so," Skiles snorted, his expression still calm.
In this game, he had barely made any adjustments. They were playing today just like they always did.
The main goal was to let the returning Hardaway quickly find his rhythm.
The Mavericks, on the other hand, had clearly tried two different strategies.
First was setting up a zone defense to limit the Phoenix Suns’ penetration.
But its effect was limited. A zone defense? It wasn’t like the Phoenix Suns hadn’t practiced against it.
Then, they tried to push the pace.
Skiles wasn’t worried about that at all. He knew they had Chen Yu. During a meeting with the medical staff yesterday, he had brought this up with Chen Yu, hoping that he could provide player support during halftime and restore as much of Olajuwon and Ewing’s stamina as possible.
He knew Chen Yu had this ability; he had seen it more than once during the season, though he still didn’t know how Chen Yu did it.
As for the Mavericks switching back to a slower pace, Skiles was even less worried.
A Mavericks team returning to its conventional style would only suffer a worse defeat against the Phoenix Suns.
Because the Phoenix Suns’ lineup was a natural counter to the Mavericks’.
Especially J Kidd countering Nash.
The two were no strangers. When Nash first entered the league, he was J Kidd’s backup.
J Kidd possessed an outstanding defensive ability that a point guard should never have, while Nash had a slight build. Under the defense of a player like J Kidd, who knew him so well, his performance was predictable.
In this game, it was only by pushing the pace and creating chaos that Nash got a few shooting opportunities. If it came down to one-on-one half-court sets, his performance would be exactly the same as in the last game.
And while Hardaway’s performance was average this game, that was on offense. On the defensive end, Hardaway was still very active.
His defense could only be described as above average, but he had the height and wingspan, the basic tools to defend against penetration. When he got serious, his defense wasn’t bad at all. The fact that Finley only had 16 points so far today was because Hardaway was guarding him.
But Hardaway’s shooting touch was a real problem.
Skiles’s brow furrowed. He didn’t know what was causing it.
Was his wrist injury not fully healed? Or was it healed, but he just couldn’t find his rhythm after not playing for ten days?
As he was thinking, Nowitzki hit another jump shot over Ewing in the low post.
Skiles frowned slightly. Since the timeout, it seemed like Nowitzki had made two shots from the same spot.
It wasn’t that Ewing’s defense was poor—it was actually very good. It was just that Nowitzki was starting to become unstoppable.
He was a star, after all. When he got hot, you really couldn’t stop him.
But the key issue now was the Phoenix Suns themselves. Their outside shooting still hadn’t started falling.
The 8-point lead had shrunk to 4 in the blink of an eye.
Just as Skiles was considering whether to call a timeout and make an adjustment, Ewing suddenly put up his hand, demanding the ball.
He seemed to be getting impatient.
J Kidd saw Ewing out of the corner of his eye but didn’t pass to him.
"Give me the ball!"
Ewing posted up Nowitzki and yelled at Olajuwon.
Olajuwon, backing down Lafrentz, bent low and sent a bounce pass to Ewing, then quickly spun and cut straight to the basket.
He wanted to run a play with Ewing.
But Ewing acted as if he didn’t see him. With a low roar, he power-dribbled and backed his way in.
Nowitzki stumbled, feeling as if he’d been rammed by a bull.
He gritted his teeth and held his ground, but Ewing’s low-post experience was clearly superior. Ewing dipped his shoulder, faked a shot to get Nowitzki off his feet, then quickly dropped low, stepped forward, and used his right hand to scoop the ball into the basket from a tight angle.
After scoring, Ewing pounded his chest, a fierce look on his face, but then he roared at Hardaway, who wasn’t far away.
"What the hell are you doing? Can you focus? They’re catching up!"
Ewing glared viciously at Hardaway.
He felt that Hardaway was sleepwalking through this game, his form a complete mess.
He knew Hardaway was injured and had rushed back in less than ten days.
But there was nothing to be done about it.
If this were the regular season, he wouldn’t say a word. But this was the playoffs. There was no time to gradually find your form.
You’re the core of the team’s offense, so you have to step up.
Because I want to win!

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