Chapter Thirty-Nine: Tactics Derived from the Evolution of the Eight Trigrams

It could be said that the previous game was an experiment for Nelson, and this trial brought him victory. He was utterly delighted, convinced that the months he had spent pondering had not been wasted.

“Lin, do you know about the Eight Trigrams? That’s the concept of Yin and Yang in Taiji. Recently, I’ve been reading a lot about your Eastern Daoist traditions—oh, it’s absolutely fascinating!” Nelson began chatting about culture, as he always was an old man fond of Eastern philosophies.

“Of course, everyone in China knows about this. The Book of Changes speaks of the Great Ultimate giving birth to the Two Forms, the Two Forms to Four Symbols, the Four Symbols to Eight Trigrams, the Eight Trigrams determining fortune and misfortune, and from fortune and misfortune comes great achievement. This concept has a profound influence in Chinese culture.”

“Oh, wonderful! I first learned about it because of Bruce Lee. His martial arts greatly influenced my approach to basketball. He moved so quickly, his punches were powerful—no one could match him. He was truly a thinker. I watched his documentaries, and he always spread martial arts as a cultural philosophy. His understanding elevated him to the status of a grandmaster, and his teachings began with the concept of Taiji and Yin-Yang. I wonder, since both are competitive sports, could I incorporate the principles of Taiji and Yin-Yang into my basketball strategies?” Nelson asked earnestly.

Lin Fei thought to himself that this old man really had something up his sleeve, to be able to connect such philosophies to basketball. He replied, “Oh, you’re amazing! There’s an old Chinese saying: ‘A thousand changes never stray from the root.’ That’s precisely the idea—everything is interconnected. Once you understand one thing, many others become easy to grasp. If you’ve comprehended the principles of martial arts, it means your thinking has reached a certain level, and you’ll gain new insights into basketball.”

“And in your literature, there’s a genre called martial arts, right? Those legendary figures who could fly? I’ve often heard the saying: ‘Of all martial arts, nothing is unbreakable, but speed is unbeatable.’ Does that also reflect this philosophy?” Nelson continued.

Lin Fei was baffled, wondering what this old fellow was thinking about all day. Shouldn’t he focus on training and tactics instead of pondering these Chinese ideas? “Heh, yes, exactly! ‘Speed’ is the most formidable offensive tactic in the world.”

“Oh, I see now. Speed is the one thing in the world that cannot be countered. Lin Fei, did you know this all along, and that’s why you’re so fast on the court?”

Lin Fei was suddenly taken aback. Indeed, he had never considered this before—he just kept running, breaking through, always striving for greater speed, but hadn’t thought about the underlying principle. This coach really did have a knack for insight.

Suddenly, Nelson announced to his players, “From now on, I’m going to intensify your physical training. I want you to be able to run non-stop on the court. I want every one of you to feel that after a game, you’ve just completed a marathon.”

The players were dumbfounded. Wasn’t yesterday’s game intense enough? They had been running practically the entire match. The contest against the Bucks had seen so many possessions, it had exhausted everyone. Moreover, not every game is against a weaker team, and after some matches, there isn’t enough time for players to recover. If they had to play back-to-back games, no one could handle that level of intensity.

But Nelson was resolute in his newfound philosophy: run, run, run, and keep running. His understanding of Eastern culture seemed to stop there, for the deeper mysteries were difficult to grasp. That’s only natural—after all, the wisdom accumulated over millennia cannot be truly understood in a few sentences. Consider the Buddhist master Huineng, who spoke of “forgetting the finger after seeing the moon”—Nelson could hardly fathom that level of enlightenment.

The next game would be a tough battle. The Warriors had to face the San Antonio Spurs of Texas. Texas teams are notoriously tenacious—the Spurs, Mavericks, Rockets, Grizzlies, Hornets—none are easy opponents, and it’s rare for any team to leave Texas unscathed.

The core of the Spurs’ lineup was, of course, the trio known as GDP: Ginobili, Duncan, Parker—often called the Three Carriages. Their role players were all formidable. The team relied heavily on their head coach, Popovich, whose leadership was notoriously strict. Even the so-called “Stone Buddha” Duncan, at the height of his glory, obeyed Popovich’s commands without question. However, the Spurs now faced serious issues with aging players, injuries, and defense. At their peak, it was Duncan’s steadiness and the players’ intense defense that brought them victory after victory and several championships. One memorable game saw the Spurs win easily, but afterward, Popovich berated the players, “What the hell were you doing out there? Damn it, you let the opponents score a hundred points! Where was your defense?” The Spurs were disciplined and meticulous in their defense. Another vivid memory: the Suns, with two-time MVP Nash leading Stoudemire and Marion, could vanquish nearly any team, but not the “Buddha”—for the Spurs had Duncan. Everyone knew that if any team dared to dismiss the Suns’ offense, it would be the Spurs.

Lin Fei was excited, knowing he would once again enter the game as the sixth man. He was sure to face off against Parker, another speedster famously nicknamed “the French Sports Car,” and Ginobili, a former best sixth man himself. Lin Fei was eager to see just how formidable these legendary players were.

For fans, there was even more good news: though the Spurs had always been known for their defense, they were gradually transforming into a more offensive-minded team. Their offensive efficiency ranked fifth in the league in the previous season, making this upcoming offensive showdown highly anticipated. It would also be a clash of coaching philosophies: Nelson’s Warriors advocated offense, believing victory depended on outscoring opponents—just like in the last game, “if I score more than you, I win.” Popovich, on the other hand, was the epitome of defense-first coaching, insisting that winning begins with defense. Nelson had updated his tactical philosophy after much reflection, while Popovich, somewhat uncharacteristically, had raised the banner of offense (though his defense remained formidable). This contradiction promised sparks, and everyone was eager to see what would unfold.