On April 19th, the 2002-2003 season playoffs officially began.
The Phoenix Suns hosted the Blazers.
Sometime after four in the afternoon, the players began arriving at the US Airways Center.
Inside the locker room, Skiles mysteriously pulled O’Neal aside.
"What is it, Scott?" O’Neal asked his former teammate, a confused look on his face.
Skiles glanced left and right before whispering, "Shaq, are you hungry? Did Chen let you eat?"
By the end of the fourth episode of the weight-loss show, O’Neal’s weight had dropped to 357 pounds.
Compared to his later years with the Lakers, when his weight had ballooned to 380 pounds or even higher, this was actually ideal.
But losing so much weight in just over a month meant he’d gone hungry quite a bit, which would surely affect his performance in the game.
The regular season was one thing; Skiles didn’t care about that. But this was the playoffs.
There were no weak teams in the West, and he didn’t want them to get tripped up by an underdog.
O’Neal’s eyes darted around, and he immediately started complaining, "What do you think? You know how twisted Chen is. He has people watching me twenty-four hours a day. He’s a devil."
"I know." Skiles cut O’Neal off, furtively pulling two chocolate bars from his suit pocket and shoving them into O’Neal’s hand. He then whispered, "Find a place to eat these in secret later. Don’t let Chen see you."
O’Neal’s eyes lit up, and he nodded eagerly.
Just then, a cough came from behind them.
Skiles flinched. He whipped his head around to see Greg Davis staring at them with an ’I-caught-you’ expression.
O’Neal quickly hid the chocolate bars behind his back.
"Wait."
Greg Davis stopped O’Neal and held out his hand.
"Greg, we’re good brothers. How could you do this?" O’Neal said with a stern face.
Greg Davis didn’t lower his hand. "Shaq, don’t blame me," he said helplessly. "This is an order from Chen. He told us to watch you. Besides, he already gave you an extra meal. If you sneak more food, that’s what will really affect your game."
Since there was a game today, Chen Yu was worried O’Neal wouldn’t have enough energy, so he had already given him an extra meal beforehand.
"Hmph! Scott, you see? Chen is a devil!" Shaq grumbled as he handed over the chocolate bars.
Skiles’s eye twitched in embarrassment.
Just then, Chen Yu appeared at the other end of the hallway.
He glanced their way and then stopped.
"I’m going to the bathroom." Seeing Chen Yu, O’Neal immediately stopped complaining, clutched his stomach, and made a run for it.
Chen Yu walked over, glanced at the chocolate in Greg Davis’s hand, then at the mortified Skiles. "Scott," he said with a sigh, "it’s just the Blazers. Are you really this nervous?"
Most importantly, he had told him time and again: you’re in charge of what happens on the court, and I’m in charge of making sure the players are healthy enough to play. The weight-loss show was important, but was he really going to let O’Neal play a game on an empty stomach?
You could even say that the show was no longer purely about weight loss. Many viewers didn’t even care if O’Neal actually succeeded in losing the weight anymore.
Skiles let out a long sigh and quickly promised it wouldn’t happen again.
With that, he made an excuse about needing to attend the pre-game press conference and quickly fled the scene.
"Nice work." Chen Yu patted Greg Davis on the shoulder and casually stuffed the two chocolate bars into his own pocket.
Inside the locker room, Skiles pointed at the whiteboard, rattling on about the tactical plan for the game.
After he finished, he looked at the players and suddenly frowned.
He felt the atmosphere in the locker room was a bit heavy.
Previously, the Suns’ locker room had a harmonious atmosphere. With a live wire like O’Neal around, there was never a shortage of fun.
But today, a single glance revealed that veterans like Oakley had incredibly serious expressions.
Even O’Neal was sitting there listlessly, his chin propped on his right hand, lost in thought.
"Chen, do you want to say a few words?" Skiles hesitated for a moment, then suddenly turned to look at Chen Yu, who was sitting in the corner.
Entering the playoffs was a new stage. The team had many veterans, and the reason these veterans came to the Suns was to chase a championship.
They didn’t care about the regular season, but in the playoffs, every single game was crucial. Examples of favorites getting unexpectedly knocked out were everywhere, so they were bound to be nervous.
This was a time for a pep talk.
’Unfortunately, I’m not the kind of head coach who’s good with words. Chen Yu, on the other hand, with his psychology sessions, has a much better grasp of the players’ mental state. He often acts as a liaison, communicating with the players in my place. Most importantly, Chen Yu has authority on the team. Even a hard-to-manage troublemaker like O’Neal listens to him.’
Chen Yu, who had also been spacing out, snapped back to reality. He looked around, immediately stood up, clapped his hands, and said, "Let’s go."
He started walking toward the locker room door.
When he reached the door, Chen Yu turned and saw that no one had moved. He laughed and said, "What are you all standing around for? Let’s go. Time to see just how tough the league’s first 100-million-US-dollar lineup is in the playoffs."
The Eastern Knicks, the Western Blazers—the league’s most notorious suckers.
Every year they shelled out huge salaries, and every year they failed to produce results.
And this season, Paul Allen had gone all out again. If you included the buyout for Shaun Kemp’s contract, they had surpassed the Knicks. Their player salaries for the season just exceeded 100 million US dollars.
It was unprecedented, dubbed the "Hundred-Million-Dollar Luxury Lineup" by the media.
Of course, it wasn’t a compliment, but a taunt.
Back in ’99 and 2000, their payroll wasn’t as explosive, yet they made it to the Western Conference Finals year after year. Now, with their payroll massively inflated, they were making first-round exits every time.
You could say the Blazers had taught Paul Allen a vivid lesson: no matter how much money you have, you can’t just buy success.
The players glanced at each other, and O’Neal was the first to let out a snort of laughter.
"Chen, whatever you do, don’t say that to the reporters. Paul Allen will never let you hear the end of it." O’Neal chuckled, then asked the players around him, "Hey, you guys think if I went to the Blazers, I could get a 30-million-dollar contract?"
Just like Jordan.
It was a joke, but no one dared to respond.
It was Chen Yu who finally spoke up, saying to everyone, "Everybody remember, don’t tell the reporters what Shaq just said. Otherwise, tomorrow’s headline will be that the Suns are disbanding."
Many of the players could no longer hold it in and burst out laughing.
The atmosphere in the locker room instantly lightened up.
"Let’s go!"
Hardaway stood up and called for everyone to head out to the court.
Skiles nodded silently, secretly giving Chen Yu a thumbs-up.
The entire US Airways Center had become a sea of white.
After winning the championship last year, the Suns’ market had been getting better and better. Attendance had at one point soared into the top five in the league.
In the stands, flames shot up. On the court, the Gorilla mascot was waving its arms nonstop, responding to the excited fans in the stands and listening to them chant "Championship!"
The home-court atmosphere was at its peak.
Chen Yu turned his head and asked Brian, "It’s only the first round, and you’re already shouting about defending the title. Isn’t that a bit overconfident?"
Yesterday, Brian had specifically given an interview to reporters, revealing that the Suns’ goal for this season’s playoffs was to defend their championship title.
"Overconfident?" Brian snorted, then said with a dead-serious expression, "Chen, our goal is a dynasty. Do you understand? A dynasty."
"I understand."
Chen Yu didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as he nodded. ’This guy is bursting with confidence.’
"By the way, I heard Pippen came to talk to you for a bit before the game. What did he say?" Brian suddenly asked in a low voice.
During the pre-game warm-ups, Chen Yu had been watching from the sidelines when Pippen from the Blazers proactively came over and chatted with him for a bit.
"Don’t tell me..." Chen Yu frowned.
He had been working with Brian for two years, long enough to know what he was thinking before he even said a word. It was no exaggeration.
Clearly, he had his sights set on Pippen now.
If veterans on the team like Oakley won the championship this year, they would definitely retire immediately.
And if they unexpectedly failed to win the title, the Suns wouldn’t keep them either.
Another year older, their condition would be predictable.
They were truly just one-year rentals.
"Didn’t you say you wanted to build a dynasty? Is this how you’re going to do it, by continuing with the team of old, weak, sick, and disabled?" Chen Yu scoffed.
’If I remember correctly,’ Chen Yu thought, ’Pippen’s contract is up this summer.’
’At 20 million, he’s a terrible value. But at 2 million, he’s an incredible bargain.’
A flash of embarrassment crossed Brian’s face. He ignored Chen Yu’s jab about the "team of old, weak, sick, and disabled"—he’d heard it plenty of times anyway—and thumped his chest, promising, "Chen, if we win the championship this year, you just watch. Next season, we won’t care how much luxury tax we have to pay."
Chen Yu pursed his lips. ’Didn’t you say the same thing last summer?’
"It’s true!" Brian argued.
Winning the championship once could have been a fluke—the right time, place, and people. Investing heavily after that might have mortgaged the future.
But if they managed to defend their title again this year, then they’d have a shot at a three-peat dynasty next year.
So, for the sake of a dynasty, it would be worth it to increase investment in the third year, even if it ended up mortgaging the future.
"Just tell me, can Pippen still play?" Brian asked.
Chen Yu sighed. What could he say?
Of course Pippen was injured—knee injuries, back injuries. As the one managing the player health department, Chen Yu knew exactly what injuries he had.
It was just that the Blazers hadn’t sent him to Phoenix for treatment.
The Blazers’ medical staff was actually quite good.
While not as extravagant as the Lakers, who had hired five team doctors at once this year, they had a two-person team—one for internal medicine and one for surgery. That was much better than many teams in the league that only had a single doctor.
You couldn’t really blame them for what happened with Bill Walton. The fact that the old man could even play was a miracle in itself.
This season, Pippen had played nearly 70 games and was still averaging 10.8 points, 4.3 rebounds, and 4.5 assists. For a 37-year-old, the Blazers’ medical team had actually done a pretty good job.
If he were to take over, keeping him healthy enough to play another year wouldn’t be much of a problem.
After all, Pippen was also famous for his self-discipline.
"He should be fine," Chen Yu said.
’Starting would be tough, but he’d have no problem coming off the bench for a while.’
"Then I know what to do." Brian’s smile brightened. He then asked how Chen Yu’s training camp for testing rookie potential was going, what the situation was, and if he had discovered any hidden gems.
He knew Chen Yu was running the camp to promote his sports lab, but proximity breeds opportunity. Since Chen Yu was also the Suns’ team doctor, if there was a chance to snag a steal, wouldn’t that be perfect?

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