Chapter 109: In the NBA, debts are bound to be repaid sooner or later

Look at the Warriors' insane stats this season! They are knocking down over a dozen three-pointers per game—an average that exceeds the peak totals of some other teams. Even acknowledged long-range threats like the Magic and the Suns look like amateurs compared to the Warriors; they aren't even putting up half the Warriors' numbers. Of course, Lin Fei is responsible for nearly half of those threes. Moreover, the Warriors can strike from virtually anywhere on the court, a versatility no other team can match. Why are they so prolific? Because their efficiency is off the charts. The team is shooting nearly 45% from beyond the arc, a figure that surpasses even the league's elite marksmen like Ray Allen or Flynn. The Warriors defy every conventional rule of the league, maintaining a scorching perimeter touch throughout the entire season that opponents simply cannot solve.

Experts were pessimistic about the Warriors heading into Game 2 without Lin Fei, especially with Jason Terry returning for the Mavericks while Lin remained sidelined.

As the game tipped off, the fervor of the Mavericks fans swallowed the entire arena.

Lin Fei was not in the lineup; he had returned to Golden State, a move effectively sanctioned by his coach. One could easily imagine what he was busy with back home.

Curry started at point guard.

A team without an interior presence often meets a miserable end, and that held true. From the opening whistle, the Warriors were repeatedly punished by Tyson Chandler in the paint, while Dirk Nowitzki dominated inside and out, raining down shots. Although Jobs managed to score, he was clearly outclassed by the Mavericks' German superstar. While the Warriors’ "run-and-gun" system allows for penetration and perimeter play, giving them a slight edge on the outside, they were severely disadvantaged overall.

Midway through the first quarter, the Warriors trailed 16-10. The commentator was blunt, noting that this was the Warriors' worst offensive performance of the entire playoffs. In previous games, the team would be brimming with energy, playing an unstoppable style of basketball and easily racking up 20-plus points in the opening frame; tonight, they had only managed 10.

"If the Warriors' offense isn't clicking, they are useless," the commentator remarked. Truth be told, sometimes a commentator's ability to read a game is sharper than that of a coach.

Nelson called a timeout.

"Boys! You can afford to be more decisive with your shot selection, especially from behind the arc. Curry, you are one of the best shooters in the league; when you have an opening, the faster you release, the better. When you come off the bench, I need you to be more of a playmaker, but as a starter, you must embrace the role of an attacker. When your teammates are playing well, you get more opportunities, so you have to be aggressive."

Back on the floor, Curry thought about how Lin Fei coordinated with their teammates. He found it ironic that he, the elder brother, had to learn the style of his former protégé.

The strategy paid off. During fast breaks, Curry would dish to his teammates, who would then pass it back, giving him a clean look. In the chaos of a break, the defense is often scrambled, and sometimes Nowitzki or Chandler would end up isolated against Curry—a gift for the Warriors. He hit consecutive mid-range jumpers, almost all from just one step inside the three-point line. Players often have that one "sweet spot" where they are lethal; a step too far or too close, and the touch vanishes.

The Warriors surged on a 13-6 run, including three triples. That is the definition of unstoppable.

The Warriors are the type of team that thrives on a glimmer of momentum. Unless you play suffocating defense and they go ice-cold as a unit, you’re destined to watch them shine.

The Warriors led by one! Even without Lin, they had already hit five three-pointers before the first quarter ended. Terry was losing his mind; he hadn't scored a single point. His brash pre-game boasts—"I can single-handedly destroy their second unit" and "Under my defense, that kid won't even get a shot off"—looked like hollow talk, and he was becoming a laughingstock.

After a timeout, the Mavericks extended their defense to the perimeter, with Terry shadowing Curry and Jason Kidd hounding Cairns.

Whether it was the Mavericks' defense tightening or the Warriors' offense faltering, the shots stopped falling. The Mavericks, meanwhile, played with poise. Nowitzki and Kidd suddenly exploded, hitting consecutive threes just as the Warriors had earlier. It proved the old adage: what goes around comes around.

The Warriors' opening barrage was met with a counter-wave of triples from the Mavericks. While other teams might use defense to suppress a three-point storm, the Warriors' defense was rarely reliable.

The Warriors, clearly stung by the turn of events, tried to answer back, spurred on by Nelson’s demand for aggression. But the team seemed to lose its touch entirely. The entire squad went cold, as if they had fallen into an ice cave. They missed six consecutive shots. Any other coach might have called a timeout, but this was Don Nelson—a wise coach with supreme confidence. He let them play through it, which only led to more misses. By this point, Terry was on fire, racking up seven points via a three, a jumper, and a drawn foul, fueling an 11-0 run that pushed the Mavericks' lead to 20.

The first half wasn't even over, and the deficit was already 20.

Nelson called a timeout. As they headed to the bench, Terry was already celebrating. The Warriors watched, seething with frustration.

"It's alright, boys. Keep shooting the threes! Let's treat this like a practice session," Nelson said, unfazed. For years, Nelson had been the soul of the Warriors, and few players ever doubted him. They continued to execute his perimeter-heavy game plan.

But in the NBA, you eventually pay the price. This season, the Warriors shattered every three-point record in league history—the good and the bad. Most threes made in a game, most missed—it all belonged to them. Many teams had been washed away by their three-point rain, but there is always a reckoning. You live by the three, you die by the three.

As the game progressed, the Warriors' streak of 6 misses ballooned to 13, with zero conversions. It was as if, having broken every positive record, they were determined to break the record for consecutive missed three-pointers as well.

The Mavericks, meanwhile, were lethal from deep. Terry, in particular, had the skill to back up his trash talk, hitting five of his first nine attempts.

By the middle of the third quarter, the Mavericks led by 25. Both coaches cleared their benches—a rare sight in the playoffs.

The fourth quarter became garbage time. It was only "garbage time" because one man was missing. If he were on the floor, no one would dare call it that, for he was capable of an otherworldly 35-point, 10-three-pointer quarter, or a divine 28 points in three minutes. But the tragedy was his absence.

The Warriors were crushed.

Down 2-0 in the series, and in humiliating fashion. Although the Warriors had come back from a 1-3 deficit in the first round, the Mavericks were a different beast than the Thunder.

Morale was at an all-time low. They rarely lost this badly. But they had two reasons for hope: one, that man was not on the court; and two, they had three days to adjust.

Far away, that man was still out there, hoisting three-pointers. Perhaps he knew the result, perhaps he didn't. But for many, all eyes were already on the next game.