Sports Medicine Master System
Chapter 809: Chapter 727: The Referee Made a Huge Call
Halfway through the fourth quarter, the Phoenix Suns held a mere two-point lead. It was practically no lead at all.
Both sides traded blows, hanging on by a thread. Whoever cracked first and let out that held breath would likely lose the game in an instant.
On the sidelines, Chen Yu wore a solemn expression. "Brian, we might lose," he said in a low voice.
Beside him, Brian looked equally grim. He had the same feeling. "Kobe changed his playstyle." He furrowed his brows deeply.
Chen nodded.
At this crucial moment, Raja Bell subbed in to bolster the defense. Kobe had morphed into a primary ball-handler who could both score and pass. He also took on the task of defending Hardaway. He ran off screens, set picks for his teammates, and distributed the ball to create opportunities. He even crashed the paint to fight for rebounds. He was everywhere, doing everything. And unfortunately for the Suns, he executed it all quite well.
This shift was exactly what Chen had feared the most.
With a sigh, Chen said, "If we lose, we lose. If they genuinely beat us on skill, it’s nothing unacceptable."
From a team owner’s perspective, losing was undesirable but ultimately fine. Season after season, a temporary loss meant little. The Phoenix Suns wouldn’t make significantly more money by winning the championship this year, nor would they earn less by failing to do so.
The stalemate between the two teams dragged on until the very end. With eleven seconds left on the clock, the two teams were astonishingly tied.
Phoenix had possession. Drain the clock and score, and they would hit a buzzer-beater to kill off the Lakers. It came down to Nowitzki again.
Hardaway’s advance was blocked, so he opted to pass. By the time Nowitzki caught the ball, the shot clock had almost run out. Facing three defenders lunging at him, he took a hard dribble and forced a fadeaway jumper.
It was an extremely tough, contested shot pushed to the absolute limit! However, the basketball plunged right through the hoop.
Instantly, the entire US Airways Center erupted.
Jackson almost dropped dead from a heart attack. The Lakers players looked as if their spines had been snapped, their fighting spirit instantly vanishing. They had battled hard for an entire quarter, only to lose at the very end.
Panting heavily, Kobe’s eyes brimmed with defiance. "Don’t panic," he said through gritted teeth. "We still have 1.9 seconds. We have one last chance!"
The Lakers called their final timeout. Jackson hadn’t even used it during the most dangerous stretch of the final minute.
Everyone gathered around. The first choice Jackson faced was whether to go for a three-pointer for the win or a two-pointer to tie. Then came the question of who would take the final shot.
All eyes turned to Kobe. He did not shy away from the responsibility. "Trust me, we are not going to lose," he said deeply.
Jackson gave a slight nod and hastily drew up the final play.
The players from both sides took the court. Chen had already stood up, his gaze locked unblinkingly on the frontcourt.
Unsurprisingly, it was Jackson’s starburst play. All the players clustered tightly together, exploding outward the moment the ball was inbounded. They set screens for one another, usually allowing someone to pop open for the final shot. Jackson had used this play numerous times; it carried a distinct flavor of an American football tactic. But it was entirely predictable that Kobe would be the one catching the ball at the end. For a do-or-die shot determining whether they went home or stayed alive, no one else had the guts to shoot, shoulder the blame, or possess such a clutch mentality.
So all they had to do was lock down Kobe. For this reason, Skiles proactively lowered their interior height, subbing in the more agile Brown.
As the referee tossed the ball to Yao Ming, the entire US Airways Center seemed to fall completely silent for a fleeting moment.
Nine players instantly scattered like shrapnel. In that momentary chaos, a figure sprinted out of the fray. It was Kobe. Poseidon was screened off by the scattering Lakers players. So was Marion. Clearly, the Lakers had planned this out, executing targeted delays. But they were bound to leave someone open, and that someone was Hardaway.
Hardaway brushed past Raja Bell and lunged at Kobe. With only 1.9 seconds, Kobe had absolutely no time to adjust. Catching the ball under Hardaway’s heavy contest, he took a stumbling dribble and forcefully leapt into his shooting motion.
It was a three-pointer. Hardaway hadn’t completely lost his defensive position and jumped at almost the exact same time. Kobe’s shooting form was visibly distorted. The shot didn’t look like it was going in!
Chen’s heart leaped into his throat as he watched the basketball strike the inner rim and bounce out.
It missed! The Phoenix Suns won, and the Lakers were eliminated!
The silent US Airways Center instantly boiled over in celebration. However, amidst the roaring cheers, a piercing whistle shrieked.
The referee sprinted onto the court waving his arms, blowing his whistle non-stop. The Suns players, who had been just about to celebrate, petrified on the spot. Everyone turned to look at head referee Ken Moore.
What the hell was going on?
Ken remained completely silent, simply signaling for an instant replay.
"What the Fack!" Brian cursed furiously. Was there even a problem with that play? On what grounds were they blowing the whistle? Why call anything?
"Calm down," Chen said, his brows tightly furrowed and his mood ruined.
Throughout the entire game, the referees hadn’t stolen the spotlight, almost making Chen forget they were even there. He thought they had turned over a new leaf, but he never expected them to drop a bombshell at the very last second!
Chen looked over at the three referees huddled together. They couldn’t possibly be calling a defensive foul on Hardaway and handing Kobe three free throws, right? Even if the league wanted to prop the Lakers up for a championship run, they couldn’t be this shameless.
The three referees whispered amongst themselves. Under the watchful eyes of twenty thousand fans in the arena, it took them over a full minute to reach a consensus.
Seeing Ken’s hand signal, everyone was dumbfounded.
They didn’t call Hardaway for a reaching foul on the shot. They weren’t calling a foul on Kobe’s final attempt. Instead, they called a hand-checking foul on Hardaway during Kobe’s single dribble right after he caught the ball.
"Fack, Ken, are you insane!" Brian instantly lost his mind, roaring at Ken. Was he out of his mind? Calling that kind of foul on a game-deciding buzzer-beater possession!
In this sort of situation, unless a player literally tackled someone to the floor, it simply wasn’t a foul. Yet he forced the call anyway—a nitpicky foul that, if one were to be agonizingly pedantic about the rules, was technically a foul.
Masterful!
Chen could only admit that after surviving in the NBA for so many years, this crew of referees had elevated their comprehension of the rules and their control over the game to a level of masterful, unassailable perfection. If it were Chen, he could rack his brain all day and never think of calling that specific foul at such a crucial moment.
Skiles charged forward to argue with Ken. The iron-faced referee, his features sharp as if chiseled from stone, might have known he was in the wrong and simply chose to ignore him. If this had been the past, he would have slapped Skiles with a technical foul without hesitation.
The Suns were in the penalty, so Kobe went to the line to shoot free throws. They even facking reset the clock, leaving Phoenix with 1.1 seconds.
It was an absolute farce.
Brian’s fury was off the charts. He clamored about filing a formal appeal to the league, exposing the scandal to the media, and even suing Ken.
Chen ignored him, his mood incredibly complicated. Suddenly, he also felt a bit disappointed. Sure enough, the league was ultimately a commercial enterprise. It was a meticulously choreographed show—a business.
Chen sat back down. For a moment, he felt his enthusiasm wane.
Thinking about it now, holding onto illusions about the world was actually a pretty nice thing. Seeing through everything and understanding it all too clearly was sometimes for the worse. Having figured this out, much of the gloom in Chen’s heart faded. Regardless, over the past two years, he had stopped traveling with the team as their doctor and had expanded into other business ventures. It was probably better to just keep things strictly professional and pure now anyway.
No matter what, the call was not going to be overturned.
Kobe stepped up to the free-throw line and, amidst boos echoing throughout the entire arena, sank both shots.
The Suns had long since run out of timeouts. Phoenix inbounded from the backcourt. Hardaway launched a desperation heave that merely smashed against the backboard.
Riding on those free throws, the Lakers had managed a last-second tie.
Overtime!
That whistle had been a fatal blow to the Suns’ morale. During overtime, Kobe single-handedly scored six points, ultimately helping the Lakers win the game.
A miraculous escape from the brink of death—it was truly going to a Game 7!

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