Inside the home team’s locker room, the atmosphere was heavy.
Nash sat panting, looking at the blank expressions of his teammates around him. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something. He had gradually fallen in love with the Pioneers and this group of young teammates. Young people were just easier to get along with. Moreover, he was the absolute core of the Pioneers—the leader of the team. That feeling of controlling the game left Nash incredibly satisfied.
Not to mention their run-and-gun tactics, which felt like they existed solely for him. He thrived in this system like a fish in water. The results had been excellent too, having reached the Western Conference Finals for two consecutive years.
So he wanted to take it a step further. After all, they were just one step away from the championship. They had already lost once last year; were they really going to lose again this year? When they were leading 3-1, Nash had been genuinely thrilled, feeling like his dream was about to come true. Then, he watched as the team’s lead was chipped away, game by game, until they were dragged into a Game 7, currently trailing at halftime. Success was so close, but failure didn’t seem too far away either. Leaving his mouth hanging open, Nash ultimately said nothing. He simply didn’t know what to say.
He felt that his teammates had already given it their all. Looking to his right, he could hear Milicic gasping for air from two meters away. The kid was completely exhausted; he had left everything out on the court. Under these circumstances, what could Nash possibly criticize? He looked up at Rivers in the distance. He felt there was a fundamental issue with their tactics and hoped the head coach could come up with a solution.
But Nash didn’t know that Rivers was also desperately searching for an answer right now.
"Mike?" Rivers looked over at D’Antoni.
D’Antoni kept his arms crossed, his brows deeply furrowed, and offered no response. His current mood was just as complicated as Rivers’s. First, he was genuinely anxious, unable to produce any solutions. With only half a game left, the possibility of being eliminated in a historic comeback hung over his head like the Sword of Damocles, turning his brain into mush and making it impossible to calm down.
Second, deep down, a faint voice was whispering to him: just let them lose. If they lost, who would take the blame? It would inevitably be Rivers. With Rivers’s coaching ability questioned, the front office might lose their patience and choose to replace him. And who would step in? Wouldn’t he be next in line? He had single-handedly built the Pioneers’ tactical system. If a replacement was needed, he was the undisputed choice. What did Rivers even know, aside from spouting a few pretty words? Furthermore, Rivers’s willingness to listen to the reporters’ nonsense yesterday had made D’Antoni realize that this man was impossible to work with. He didn’t want to be an assistant coach forever. Who didn’t want to move up in the world?
In this silence, fifteen minutes flew by.
Feeling his mouth go dry, Rivers clapped his hands to draw everyone’s attention. "There’s only half a game left. We’ve worked hard all season, and I know how much effort you guys have put in for this championship." He patted his chest, instantly slipping into character. Motivating people was practically an instinct for him.
"At this moment, don’t overthink anything. Believe in yourselves, believe in your teammates. As long as we stand united, we can win. We can win just like we did to go up 3-1.
"I know some media outlets are saying we’re going to choke, that we’re going to become the victims of a historic comeback. They’re waiting to watch us make fools of ourselves. Do you really want to give them what they want?
"I sure as hell don’t!
"So, step onto that court like warriors. Give me a hundred and twenty percent of your energy, crush the Phoenix Suns, and win this game.
"Trust me, you can do this!"
Rivers clapped his hands fiercely, roaring at the top of his lungs. He simply couldn’t bear the consequences of blowing a 3-1 lead—a historic collapse at that. He would be nailed to the pillar of shame forever! After finishing his speech, Rivers looked eagerly at all the players, expecting them to respond and show some fire.
Unfortunately, the reaction was lukewarm. A few starters merely nodded in agreement out of sheer politeness. A flash of disappointment quickly crossed Nash’s eyes. It was hard to feel anything after hearing this exact speech a hundred times over. Most importantly, this wasn’t what he needed. He had wanted Rivers to step up and provide a tactical adjustment that could shift the momentum of the game. Sadly, his head coach had let him down.
This negative emotion quickly festered, eventually morphing into sheer panic. Nash was genuinely terrified of losing. In the first half, the Pioneers had worked hard and fought relentlessly. But the Phoenix Suns had fought even harder. It wasn’t just on offense, but on defense as well. The Suns seemed to know that taking Chandler off the floor would downgrade their interior presence, so they had to compensate with an even more aggressive defensive attitude. Most crucially, the Suns’ momentum was unstoppable. Even though they were in the Pioneers’ arena, they played with the swagger of a team on their home court.
That was because they just kept winning. Ever since falling behind 1-3, every subsequent game had been a do-or-die elimination match for them. Yet they kept coming out on top. This momentum swelled like a raging flood, constantly building and providing an unbelievable boost to their confidence.
The Pioneers, on the other hand, just kept losing. No matter how hard they tried, they always found themselves trailing, unable to close the gap. Such repeated frustration was a devastating blow to their morale. As Nash stood up and walked out of the locker room, he suddenly had a strong, ominous premonition. They were really going to lose today!
This mental shift directly affected Nash’s performance. As soon as the second half began, he was the first to turn the ball over. Hardaway and Ben Gordon trapped him, and with quick reflexes, Hardaway poked the ball loose. Poseidon sprinted ahead of the pack and finished the play with a ferocious slam dunk. What chilled Nash even more was that Poseidon didn’t celebrate after the basket. Instead, he immediately sprinted back to his own half of the court, ready to defend. In this Phoenix Suns squad, Nash saw a truly iron-willed resilience.
As the tide of the game shifted, the tone of international sports broadcasters changed with it. No one was shouting anymore about the Pioneers successfully winning Game 7 to advance to the Finals. Anyone with eyes could see that the Pioneers were done for.
Inside the TNT Studio, Barkley’s tone carried a hint of mockery. "The Pioneers are finished!"
During the third quarter, not only did the Pioneers fail to mount a comeback, but they were also the first to completely collapse. It was obvious that several of their players had started to panic. They seemed to be playing fast merely for the sake of playing fast, jacking up shots as soon as they touched the ball without caring if it was a good look. Naturally, this led to terrible shot selection.
Normally, Nash would have controlled the tempo, slowing things down, circulating the ball more, and playing with greater patience. But it seemed that even his own mindset had cracked. He rarely forced shots and wasn’t known for explosive scoring. If a good opportunity didn’t present itself, he usually opted to pass. Now, however, he was taking it upon himself to force highly questionable shots. And the more anxious he became, the lower his shooting percentage dropped. The Pioneers were already a team heavily reliant on shooting rhythm, making matters worse.
"Right now, the Pioneers are down by 15 points. If they come out in the fourth quarter with this same attitude, they’re guaranteed to lose," Kenny Smith agreed from beside him. Because the Pioneers played at such a high pace and shot so many three-pointers, there was still a sliver of hope. If this were a game from a previous era, a 15-point deficit would have been an instant death sentence.
Sure enough, the Pioneers still couldn’t close the gap in the fourth quarter. While they panicked, the Phoenix Suns remained perfectly composed. Nash was a master of controlling the floor, but as an elite point guard, Hardaway was just as capable. Hardaway slowed the pace beautifully, refusing to be rushed or flustered, focusing entirely on high-percentage plays. Even when the Pioneers managed to sink a few threes, the Suns didn’t panic, continuing to execute their offense methodically. Consequently, when the Pioneers’ hot shooting inevitably cooled down, they looked at the scoreboard and found themselves still trailing by a massive margin.
"That is the foundation of a true champion. They’re just too stable." Ernie Johnson instinctively began to shower the Phoenix Suns with praise. "In this regard, the Pioneers are still too young. They lack that championship pedigree. The Suns falling behind 1-3 earlier just looks like a byproduct of them pushing too hard in the previous round against the Lakers. They burned too much energy and got careless. But once they recovered and found their form, they immediately remembered how to win."
At this point, the broadcast cameras continuously panned over to Rivers. It wasn’t that the media was deliberately trying to trash him; it was simply that, as the head coach blowing a massive 3-1 lead, his performance had been atrocious. Throughout the entire game, he just stood blankly on the sidelines, watching helplessly as the Pioneers fell further behind without offering a single solution.
Barkley twisted the knife even deeper. "Honestly, I think the Pioneers are playing fine. The tactics are fine, and the players are fine." He stopped right there, leaving the rest unspoken. If the players and the tactics were fine, the only remaining problem was the head coach.
Never mind the tactics—everyone knew the Pioneers’ system had been single-handedly designed by D’Antoni and had very little to do with Rivers anyway. Having blown a 3-1 lead, Rivers was inevitably going to be the one forced to shoulder this monumental blame.

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