May 4th.
Philadelphia, Wachovia Center.
At seven in the evening, fans began to file in. The vast majority were wearing Iverson’s No. 3 jersey, and many held up signs that read "The Answer."
"Chen, over here."
At the entrance, the Magic’s statistician, Casey, waved and shouted from a distance.
Chen Yu, carrying a briefcase, appeared in the crowd. Seeing Casey, he walked over.
"Your ticket."
Casey handed him a ticket, then asked if Chen Yu was sure he didn’t want a staff pass.
Chen Yu shook his head and followed Casey into the arena, heading for the visitors’ locker room.
The locker room wasn’t open yet, but Hill and the others had already finished their on-court warm-ups and were making their final preparations for the game.
When he saw Chen Yu walk in, Hill’s eyes lit up. He immediately came over and gave Chen Yu a hug.
"You really came," Hill said, pleasantly surprised.
Chen Yu had said before that he’d come to watch them play live, but Hill figured it was unrealistic for him to travel the two-thousand-plus kilometers from Phoenix to Philadelphia.
"I was in the neighborhood," Chen Yu said, shaking his briefcase. He was mainly in New York for business and decided to drop by since it wasn’t far.
Chen Yu then hugged Tracy McGrady and the others.
Chen Yu was more than just familiar with this group from the Magic.
"I really didn’t expect you guys to make it this far," Chen Yu couldn’t help but say with emotion.
Before the playoffs even started, Chen Yu had thought the Magic would be out in the first round.
Hill grinned, about to speak.
Chen Yu quickly cut him off. "You’re not going to ask me again if I believe you can win today, are you?"
Hill had done this twice before.
With the example of the trash-talking king Larry Bird, it was better not to jinx things at a critical moment like this.
Hill laughed heartily, then said with complete confidence, "It’s true. We’re definitely winning today."
The others nodded in agreement.
No one had ever favored them. Even they themselves didn’t think they could beat the Digital People after the first round began.
But then Hill stepped up, making them understand that they could still win, and that they could keep on winning.
Just then, Amichie pulled out a digital camera and called Chen Yu over for a group photo.
They had taken a photo with the newspaper before. Now that he was here for the most crucial game, they had to take another picture for posterity.
"Let’s talk after you win," Chen Yu said, waving him off.
If they lost, this photo would be pretty awkward.
"Good luck. I’m going to my seat."
Chen Yu didn’t stay long and turned to leave.
He had come today, first, to support the Magic, and second, to see if he could witness history.
An eighth-seed miracle!
Only the third time in history.
The Wachovia Center was packed to the rafters today. A single glance revealed a sea of people.
The game hadn’t even started, but the atmosphere was already electric.
The mascot, Hip Hop the rabbit, with his sunglasses and buck teeth, was interacting with the fans. A group of them right in front had shamelessly taken off their shirts, roaring bare-chested.
Chen Yu rubbed his ears. ’With a home-court advantage like this, it won’t be easy for the Magic to win,’ he thought.
Especially when the visiting team came out, the boos echoing through the arena were almost enough to tear the roof off.
Chen Yu could see clearly that the rookie, Mike Miller, was noticeably stiff.
Even Hill, America’s sweetheart, wasn’t immune.
But Hill had seen it all before. He managed to maintain his smile and wave to the fans in the stands.
The Digital People’s fans immediately took this as a provocation, and the torrent of curses hardly stopped.
"Ignore them," Hill said to his teammates, his expression calm. "They’ll shut up once we win."
Armstrong grinned. "That’s right. Let’s shut them up."
The others nodded.
The Magic had many veterans; there wasn’t a situation they hadn’t seen.
Besides, having come back to win two straight games, everyone’s confidence had returned. If they could win the last two, why should they lose this one?
As Mutombo leaped up to grab the opening tip, the game officially began.
Like a Knight backed into a corner, Iverson drove the ball toward the opposite basket.
With a double crossover, he forced his way into the paint. Facing a crowded lane, he showed no fear, executing a sudden stop, a spin away from the basket, and an extreme fadeaway for the score.
The crowd instantly erupted.
Even Chen Yu grimaced.
’That was an incredibly difficult shot.’
Clearly, Iverson was playing with desperation today.
As the first seed in the East, if they were upset by the eighth-seed Magic, he and the Digital People would be forever nailed to the pillar of shame in NBA history.
Watching on TV, Chen Yu hadn’t felt it was anything special.
But now, watching the game live, Chen Yu could feel that the Magic were truly different.
They possessed a kind of calm that could weather any storm.
Coming back to win two games had truly built up their confidence.
So, compared to the Digital People who were rushing for a win, the Magic appeared more patient. After a series of passes, Hill caught the ball on the wing, rose up, and shot.
It swished through the net.
Chen Yu instinctively wanted to clap, but after glancing at the burly, tattooed man next to him—who was wearing a denim vest and had arms as thick as Chen Yu’s thighs—he quietly lowered his hands.
’Out of more than twenty thousand people here, there’s probably not a single Magic fan.’
It was Iverson again.
As if to atone for scoring only 24 points in the last game, Iverson came out attacking relentlessly.
But the Magic didn’t lose their composure, patiently playing one possession at a time.
At the end of the first quarter, the score was 21 to 23. The Digital People were actually trailing by two points.
In the NBC studio.
This marquee matchup was, of course, being broadcast nationally.
Kevin Johnson frowned. "The Digital People are too hasty. They’re playing chaotically, with almost no teamwork. It’s just endless iso-ball from Iverson. That’s really not good. If Iverson’s hot hand cools off, the Magic could seize the opportunity to extend their lead."
His words proved prophetic. At the start of the second quarter, perhaps because Tracy McGrady was guarding him tighter, Iverson missed several shots in a row.
And with just those few failed possessions, the Magic had quickly extended their lead to nine points.
Before Larry Brown could make any adjustments, substitute Troy Hudson hit a three-pointer, pushing the lead to 12 points.
Brown’s vision went dark. He hurriedly called a timeout.
"Patience! Play with more patience," Brown repeatedly urged his players.
Iverson, his face dark, didn’t listen at all.
He and Old Brown had never gotten along anyway.
’Down by 10 and he wants patience? Patience my ass!’ he thought.
In the stands, Chen Yu watched Hill and the others in disbelief.
’These guys might actually win this.’
Chen Yu wasn’t an expert, but even he could see that the Digital People were relying solely on Iverson, while the Magic had multiple players contributing and were playing with a much better game plan.
Play resumed after the timeout.
It was clear both teams were now playing with an edge.
They defended every possession desperately and fought for every rebound with their lives on the line.
After all, the loser would be going home.
The Digital People clearly didn’t want to be on the receiving end of an eighth-seed miracle.
Coming off a screen, Iverson’s body still seemed contorted as he forced up a three-pointer.
It went in.
The lead was cut to seven.
Iverson was truly on fire. The half wasn’t even over, and it seemed he had already dropped 20 points.
He was probably on track for another 40-point game.
Just as Chen Yu was thinking this, Tracy McGrady’s mid-range shot clanked off the rim. Near the basket, Outlaw and Hill lunged for the ball almost simultaneously.
In the chaos, Mutombo, like a tower from Africa, leaped up and snatched the rebound.
But in that exact moment, the referee’s whistle blew sharply.
Chen Yu shot to his feet.
It was Hill!
Under the basket, Hill lay on the ground in agony.
Beside him, Outlaw roared and shoved Mutombo.
Mutombo stumbled, dropped the ball, and charged forward as well.
The court instantly descended into chaos.
Chen Yu stared intently at Hill on the floor.
’His shoulder?’
In that split second, the area under the basket was a mess of bodies, and Chen Yu hadn’t seen clearly what happened.
It looked like after Mutombo grabbed the rebound, he violently swung his arm, and then Hill went down.
Houston had already rushed onto the court, kneeling to check on Hill.
In the NBC studio.
"A fight’s breaking out!" Kevin Johnson exclaimed.
But in a crucial game like this, with tempers flaring and aggressive plays, a fight wasn’t really surprising.
"The key thing is Hill. It looks like Hill is injured," Kevin Johnson said, his brow furrowed.
The replay came on screen.
Kevin Johnson sucked in a breath. "It was Mutombo. He wrenched Hill’s arm."
In slow motion, you could see that after landing from the rebound battle, Hill might have been trying to poke the ball away, and his arm got caught under Mutombo’s armpit. After securing the ball, Mutombo, without any regard for Hill, trapped his arm and violently twisted his body.
With that one motion, Hill’s entire body was flung away.
Off the court, Mutombo was a nice guy, but on the court, he played dirty. He was known for his aggressive plays and throwing elbows.
"Hill looks like he’s in a lot of pain. He hasn’t gotten up, and it looks like he can’t move his arm... Huh? Is that Chen Yu? What’s he doing here? It looks like he came down from the stands," Kevin Johnson exclaimed in surprise.
The camera panned to Chen Yu.
Chen Yu pushed through the crowd and walked directly onto the court.
The chaos had been contained, and the players from both teams were separated. Tracy McGrady and the others gathered anxiously around Hill.
Houston was sweating bullets, not daring to move Hill. Every time he touched Hill’s arm, Hill cried out in pain. Houston suspected it was a fracture.
"Everyone, move aside."
Chen Yu pushed through the crowd and said in a low voice, "Paul, what are you standing there for? Help him up. His arm is dislocated."
Chen Yu stepped forward and helped Hill to his feet.
Sweat beaded on Hill’s forehead from the pain. He looked nervously at Chen Yu.
"It’s okay, it’s just dislocated." Chen Yu gave him a reassuring look, then turned to Tracy McGrady and the others. "Stop staring. Go play your game. Leave Grant to me."
The players exchanged glances and nodded.
"Let’s go."
Without another word, Chen Yu nodded to Pleasance and, along with Houston, helped Hill back to the locker room.
Back in the locker room, Houston was still breaking out in a cold sweat. Although it wasn’t the worst-case scenario of a fracture, a dislocation was still a serious problem.
"Chen, can I still play?" Hill asked through gritted teeth as he sat down.
’Without me, it’ll be really hard for the Magic to win.’
Chen Yu’s Eye of All-Seeing had already meticulously scanned every inch of Hill’s right shoulder.
"What do you think? It’s such an important game. How could you possibly sit this one out?"
Chen Yu grasped Hill’s shoulder with one hand and his elbow with the other. "So, you afraid of a little pain?"
Hill shook his head, his gaze firm.
Chen Yu slowly began to move Hill’s arm, then suddenly asked, "By the way, Tamia is due in about three months, right? That means you’re about to be a father."
Hill was taken aback for a moment and nodded subconsciously.
Just as he was about to answer, a sharp POP echoed through the room, and Hill screamed in pain.
"All done."
Chen Yu stopped. The shoulder was back in place.
Hill was stunned. ’It’s done? Just like that?’
"Don’t move. There are three minutes left in the half, which means you only have an 18-minute break. Sit tight, I’ll massage your shoulder."
Silently activating a Silver Level Recovery Effect, Chen Yu began the massage.
’Later, I’ll have to ask John for a salary.’
’At this rate, I’m practically the Magic’s team doctor.’
’I traveled all this way just to watch a game, and it’s nothing but trouble. I even had to use up a Silver Level Recovery Effect.’
’And when you think about it, if the Magic really pull off this eighth-seed upset, at least half the credit belongs to me.’

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