Sports Medicine Master System

Chapter 407 - 345: The Absolute Death Lineup

"By the way, that LeBron James... just how valuable is he?" Brian asked again, his curiosity piqued.

He knew James was a lock for the number one pick. But there’s a number one pick every year; the only difference is the price a team has to pay to get it.

Chen Yu thought for a moment, then said, "Let me put it this way: he’s almost a 100% lock for the Hall of Fame."

Surpassing Jordan was a long shot, so he wouldn’t say that now. But based on the talent James had shown so far, as long as he didn’t have terrible luck—like a career-ending injury within a couple of years—he could pretty much reserve a spot in the Hall of Fame.

"Oh, he’s that good?" Brian’s eyebrow shot up, and he instantly perked up.

He mulled it over for a moment, then said, "So, that means we should trade up."

His gaze wandered over the players on the court, likely calculating who could be traded away.

Chen Yu offered a kind reminder, "This isn’t last year. You just watch, no one will even entertain your offers."

Last year’s draft class wasn’t as strong as this year’s. There were no top-tier rookies, and no one knew if Yao Ming could adapt to the NBA or what level he would play at.

Even the Knight themselves weren’t aiming for the number one pick. That’s what allowed Brian to trade for their first-round pick before the deadline and take a gamble.

With this year’s prospects, the teams at the top of the lottery were almost certain not to give up their first-round picks.

Even if teams further down were willing to trade, they would definitely demand an arm and a leg.

Brian huffed, but his eyes shone with smug satisfaction. That move last year was truly the highlight of his career.

"Chen, I get what you’re saying. Look, we can’t trade for a top-five pick, but getting one of the later lottery picks shouldn’t be a problem if we’re willing to pay the price, right?"

’You’re really dreaming big,’ Chen Yu thought.

Getting the number one pick with a 12% chance last year meant his luck was already off the charts.

The team with the sixth-worst record had an 8% chance. Starting from the tenth-worst, the odds dropped to less than one percent.

’With odds that low, if the Phoenix Suns actually hit the jackpot, aren’t you afraid of tempting fate?’

"I’d advise you to just forget about it. Our roster is pretty good right now, with almost no weaknesses. Just stick to your strategy of building a team of veterans," Chen Yu said.

The Phoenix Suns’ current roster, aside from the shooting guard position, was definitely top-tier in the league. They just needed to maintain the current lineup and make some minor reinforcements.

Brian pursed his lips noncommittally, clearly not having given up on the idea.

As they were talking, O’Neal let out a grunt on the court as he was pulled down from mid-air by Dale Davis.

Luckily, he didn’t fall.

The Pioneer’s strategy today was clear: in the paint, they would use the two brutes, Dale Davis and Rashid Wallace, to relentlessly double-team O’Neal. If they couldn’t contain him, they would foul him, not holding back at all.

On the court, O’Neal was waving his arms, complaining to the referee with exaggerated gestures.

He slapped his own shoulder, yelling that Dale Davis’s move was excessive and that he deserved a technical foul.

The referee mostly ignored him. The foul had been called; what more did he want?

O’Neal complained nonstop for nearly ten seconds before finally walking to the free-throw line.

In reality, it wasn’t that O’Neal was being petty.

He had often been double-teamed and pulled down from the air before. He was long used to it, so it was impossible for him to complain to the referee every single time.

This was, at best, a small tactic.

Halfway through the season, Chen Yu had made some more adjustments to his free-throw shooting.

Or, to be more precise, he had given O’Neal an idea: after getting fouled, complain to the referee a bit more.

It stalled for time and gave him an opportunity to loosen up.

Besides, there was no harm in complaining. O’Neal wasn’t some Little Calami; he had the standing to complain.

Rolling his shoulders as he walked to the free-throw line, O’Neal sank both shots.

By the end of the season, his free-throw percentage had risen to 73%, reaching the level of a competent interior player.

The "Hack-a-Shaq" strategy could pretty much be thrown into the trash heap of history.

The game continued. O’Neal was underperforming while caught in the double-teams, but throughout the season, Skiles had anticipated this and had consciously drilled O’Neal on passing out of the trap.

During his back-to-back championships with the Lakers, his inside-outside connection with Kobe had significantly improved his passing ability compared to his time with the Magic.

Moreover, Skiles didn’t require him to pass it out to the perimeter, just to McDyess.

In Skiles’s game plan, as soon as O’Neal was double-teamed, McDyess would immediately move to a suitable position to receive the pass.

He had a reliable mid-range shot; his shooting percentage was very high whenever he was left open with the ball.

Therefore, during the regular season, the number of teams that could beat the Phoenix Suns simply by relentlessly double-teaming O’Neal were few and far between.

At the end of the first quarter, the Phoenix Suns were up 28 to 23, having built a 5-point lead.

By the time the first half was nearly over, the lead had grown to almost 10 points.

"Morris, this isn’t working," lead assistant coach Jim Lynam said with a serious expression from the Pioneer’s bench.

Head coach Morris Cheeks stood on the sidelines with his arms crossed, his expression grim.

He turned to look at the opposing bench, his gaze falling on Sabonis.

In 2000, the Pioneer and the Lakers had battled for seven games in the Western Conference Finals. Back then, Sabonis had done a good job defending O’Neal.

That’s why he had wanted to re-sign Sabonis last summer, but who knew, the Phoenix Suns had snatched him up.

Dale Davis was decent, a competent blue-collar big man, but he was too short and too light. Expecting him to handle O’Neal by himself was simply impossible.

So they had no choice but to double-team.

But once they double-teamed, the power forward would inevitably be left open.

And as luck would have it, the Phoenix Suns’ power forward was McDyess, a master of the mid-range shot.

Last summer, Cheeks hadn’t understood why the Phoenix Suns would trade away a defensive stalwart on the perimeter like J Kidd. Now he got it; it was all for O’Neal.

"I know."

Cheeks kept repeating "I know," his mind racing as he searched for a solution.

The best option right now was to have someone who could hold his own against O’Neal in the paint. He wasn’t looking for someone to completely shut O’Neal down; no one in the entire league could do that.

He just needed him to be limited enough so that the Pioneer wouldn’t have to double-team and give the Phoenix Suns so many open looks.

The frequent double-teams didn’t just create opportunities for McDyess; the paint was also often wide open, allowing a team like the Phoenix Suns, full of great drivers, to slash to the basket at will.

Glancing at the bench, Cheeks’s eyes landed on last year’s rookie, Zach Randolph.

When it came to weight, the 6-foot-9 Randolph packed an astonishing 260 pounds (118 kilograms) on his frame.

And despite carrying so much weight, he still had excellent athleticism; he could run and jump.

’Maybe I should let him try to body him up?’

The thought suddenly popped into Cheeks’s head.

But the next moment, he immediately squashed the idea.

’Are you kidding me!’

’A 10-centimeter height difference and a full 100-pound weight difference... Randolph would have to risk life and limb to stop him.’

Just as he was thinking, Hardaway faked a drive, transitioned into a step-back, pulled up, and drained a three-pointer.

The lead stretched to 11 points.

Cheeks sucked in a sharp breath; even his teeth began to ache.

Now it wasn’t just a problem in the paint; the perimeter defense was about to collapse too.

And the Phoenix Suns still had a major weapon on the perimeter in Hardaway.

"Little Flying Squirrel" Damon Stoudamire had a ton of off-court crap this season. His performance was wildly inconsistent, and he gradually faded from the starting lineup.

Crucially, Pippen, who replaced him, was playing well, so Stoudamire had even fewer opportunities to play.

And even if he did play, at his height, facing a famously tall point guard like Hardaway, he was a guaranteed sieve on defense.

But Pippen couldn’t do it either. He was truly old, had a knee injury, his athleticism had severely declined, and there was no way he could guard Hardaway.

At another position, Derek Anderson, who had been playing well this season, also completely vanished under the defense of James Posey.

Bonzi Wells was decent, but he was completely outmatched by Marion in height and weight, and his wingspan was shorter by a huge margin.

The media was always saying that after trading J Kidd this season, the Phoenix Suns’ perimeter defense had declined. But with a bunch of two-meter-tall players and long-armed freaks, who wouldn’t drool over those defensive assets?

There was a gap between the starters, and the bench couldn’t make it up.

The combination of Sabonis and Oakley steadily held down the fort for the Phoenix Suns’ interior.

Then on the perimeter, their bench just jacked up 3-pointers. They might not have been able to stop their opponents, but at least they didn’t lose any ground while on the floor.

Cheeks couldn’t help but let out a long sigh to the heavens.

He felt that in this series, the Pioneer would most likely be swept 3-0.

The gap in talent was just too big.

If he had known it would be like this, he should have just eased up at the end of the season, slipped to eighth place, and taken their chances against the Spurs.

At least the Spurs didn’t have O’Neal in the paint.

Seeing Cheeks sigh, Jim Lynam sighed as well.

He had a feeling that after this season, he might really be getting fired along with Cheeks.

After three consecutive years with nothing to show for it, Paul Allen’s patience had long run out. In April, media outlets reported that Paul Allen was dissatisfied with the team’s record and with Cheeks.

That wasn’t just a groundless rumor; it was true.

The key problem was that the Pioneer also had a pile of off-court drama this year. Damon Stoudamire and Rashid Wallace were questioned by police for marijuana possession, Ruben Patterson was accused of assaulting his wife, and during practice, Randolph got into a fistfight with Patterson and was punished by the league.

Rashid, the "Roaring Celestial Venerable," truly lived up to his name. He even threatened a referee and was suspended by the league for seven games.

The team was in a precarious state, facing one crisis after another.

If they got swept in this series, they were as good as fired. There was no doubt about it.

But no matter how much they sighed, the game still had to be played.

After sighing, Cheeks made a decision.

"Jim, I’m planning to put Zack in for the second half," Cheeks said in a low voice.

Jim Lynam was taken aback and frowned. "Dale is defending him okay, isn’t he?"

He thought Cheeks meant to take out Dale Davis and move Rashid Wallace to the center position.

"No."

Cheeks shook his head, a crazy light flashing in his eyes. "Dale stays on the court. I’m going to have Zack guard McDyess, and then move Rashid to the small forward position."

"Are you crazy?" Jim Lynam exclaimed in shock.

You had to be kidding. Putting three big men on the floor was an absolute death lineup.

But Cheeks shook his head.

It’s the playoffs. The talent gap is this big. If we don’t try something unconventional, how are we supposed to win?

"Have you noticed? The Phoenix Suns’ perimeter offense is often initiated by pick-and-rolls. That’s why I want Rashid to play further out to expand our defensive coverage. Besides, he’s not doing a good job on McDyess, and his own scoring is being limited by McDyess’s defense."

"Most importantly, the Phoenix Suns play at a slow pace. Doing this will beef up our defense."

This analysis gave Jim Lynam a headache.

’Expand defensive coverage, beef up the defense... isn’t that the kind of bullshit you feed to reporters? Are you sure you thought this through before you said it?’