Sneakers squealed against the hardwood. From the stands, a mix of cheers, boos, and gasps created a cacophony like a poorly tuned radio.

The shouts of his teammates, reminders and warnings, blended with the voices of his opponents until they were indistinguishable.

But louder than all of it was the sound of his own heavy breathing.

All these sounds tangled together, making Kobe’s head feel like it was about to split open.

He blinked. Sweat from his forehead trickled down into his eyes, and the raw, salty sting made him deeply uncomfortable.

Kobe forced himself to focus, ignoring the feeling that his chest was about to explode, trying his best to track and chase the figure in front of him.

The man stopped.

Kobe jerked to a halt, their bodies colliding. He could even smell the same stench of sweat on his opponent as on himself.

Controlling his center of gravity, Kobe relied on instinct, trying to read his opponent’s next move from the feeling of their physical contact.

’He’s going to shoot!’

Kobe gritted his teeth and leaped.

The ache in his calves made the jump feel weak. In his field of vision, there were only raised arms and the basketball leaving them.

As his feet hit the floor, Kobe immediately whipped his head around, just in time to see the basketball swish through the net.

"Fuck!"

Kobe cursed viciously in his mind. The feeling of helplessness—of giving his all yet still being unable to stop his opponent, of watching all his efforts turn to nothing—was rapidly eating away at him.

His ears were filled with sighs of regret from the stands.

In his peripheral vision, Jackson on the sideline had lost his usual refined composure. He was waving his arms in frustration, screaming something at the court.

But Kobe couldn’t hear him clearly. Deep down, a panic began to spread, uncontrolled.

’What if we lose?’

’What will the media say? Will they say I couldn’t guard Hardaway, that my shooting percentage was too low, that I didn’t pass the ball well?’

’They can’t say that. I want to win, I desperately want to win. I’ve tried so hard, but why the hell won’t those shots go in?’

’And O’Neal, what is he doing? Can’t he defend a little harder? Didn’t he see Olajuwon setting screens for their guys the whole time? Doesn’t he care if we lose?’

’Right, and there’s Vanessa.’

’She said she wanted to celebrate with me after we won today. She must be sitting courtside.’

Kobe turned his head, searching for that familiar figure out of the corner of his eye.

But there was no time to look. The ball was already flying toward him.

Hardaway was already on him.

Lowering his stance, he used his shoulder to create a sliver of space. On pure instinct, Kobe drove forward with the ball.

Beside him, Hardaway stuck to him like a shadow, his annoying arm constantly blocking the way.

A quick stop, a pull-back, a change of pace—Kobe tried everything to shake Hardaway, but he couldn’t.

’He’s defending too well. We’ve played six whole games, and he’s never been this good.’

The panic inside him began to spread.

Kobe knew he had to be completely focused on the game, but he just couldn’t control his thoughts.

Especially in the second half, after falling behind by 13 points, he couldn’t stop thinking before every shot: ’What if this one doesn’t go in?’

’Maybe if I just make one more shot, we can win this game in the end.’

He gathered the ball and faked a shot. Kobe felt Hardaway’s center of gravity shift, fooled by the move, but on some strange impulse, he didn’t shoot. Instead, he scanned for a teammate out of the corner of his eye.

’What if a teammate has a better look?’

’Aren’t they always saying I don’t pass?’

Bodies moved in a blur. Kobe’s peripheral vision caught a golden figure breaking free.

Without a second thought, he flicked his wrist and passed the ball.

Just then, a hand appeared in his line of sight.

Marion had come out of nowhere, reaching in to tip the ball and alter its course.

Ewing spun around desperately, grabbing the ball just as he lost his balance and fell to the floor.

The next moment, Horry dived to the ground as well, trying to strip the ball.

’A turnover!’

Kobe’s hands and feet went ice-cold in an instant.

Through a gap between the players, Ewing managed to push the ball out.

A turnover. A fatal one.

Kobe immediately ran back to defend.

Strangely, he felt a sense of relief.

’Even without the turnover, it doesn’t feel like we can win anyway.’

Down by 8 at the end of the first quarter.

Down by 13 at the half.

And now, they were still down by 9.

And time was running out.

A 10-point deficit felt like an insurmountable chasm they could never cross.

No timeouts left.

Hardaway used a change of pace to shake Kobe and drove straight to the basket. Facing a helping O’Neal, he leaped but chose to pass.

Right out to the three-point line.

J Kidd was open.

J Kidd, who hadn’t attempted a single three-pointer all game, caught the ball and shot it.

The ball hit the rim and went in.

A dagger three!

At that moment, a massive sigh echoed through the stands.

On the sideline, Jackson didn’t shout in anger. He just closed his eyes in anguish. ’It’s over!’

「Far away in Japan.」

"Yes!" Chen Yu leaped up from the sofa in excitement.

That three-pointer, you could say, killed any last hope for the Lakers.

Originally, J Kidd had already booked a shooting adjustment session at his sports lab, but now, Chen Yu felt the man was practically a Divine Archer.

Standing in front of the TV, watching the Suns players immediately run back on defense instead of celebrating, Chen Yu had one thought: every single one of them was gritting their teeth and fighting with everything they had.

At the same time, he felt a deep sense of emotion.

’This wasn’t easy.’

At the beginning of the season, people were calling this Suns team a squad of old, weak, and injured players.

But this very team of has-beens had fought their way into the West Finals and defeated the seemingly invincible Lakers in a seven-game war.

Only the Suns themselves could know the hardship and effort they had put into it.

There was almost no time left in the game.

With a 12-point deficit, the Lakers had absolutely no hope of a comeback.

The West champions had been decided.

"Chen, congratulations. This year’s championship is yours," Contiguglia said, already offering his felicitations.

Chen Yu quickly waved his hand. "Don’t say that. We haven’t played the Finals yet."

He said that, but he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from turning up.

The Magic worked hard, Hill was strong, and Tracy McGrady was talented, but anyone could see that the Magic were no match for either the Suns or the Lakers.

Once they got past the Lakers, the Suns were the champions.

Just then, Andy Dunbar pushed the door open and came in.

"How’d it go? What was the result of the game?" he asked first.

Chen Yu gave him a thumbs-up.

Andy Dunbar’s eyes lit up, and he said in disbelief, "They really won!"

That was the Lakers, the two-time defending champion Lakers, with that unstoppable monster O’Neal.

"That’s right, they won." Chen Yu took one last look at the television. The game was over. On the court, Kobe stood there, utterly dejected.

O’Neal, like the others, looked completely lost.

A three-peat, a new dynasty for the Lakers—no matter how much they wanted it, it had been coldly shattered.

On the court, Hardaway and the others, who had suppressed their emotions all game, finally began to celebrate without restraint.

Hardaway was mobbed by his teammates. He raised his arms and roared at the sky.

Chen Yu also noticed that on the edge of the crowd, Ewing had buried his face in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably.

No one wanted this victory more than he did.

Chen Yu took a deep breath and stepped forward to turn off the TV.

Andy Dunbar’s arrival meant it was time for everyone to get ready to leave.

"What do you guys think? Since the Suns won, you think we can ride their good fortune and get a win to start things off?" Chen Yu asked the group.

They looked at each other and shook their heads.

Contiguglia sighed. "I’d love to think so, but I really don’t see it happening."

Croatia, the Checkered Legion, third place in the last tournament!

How could the little United States Team possibly win?

Chen Yu thought about it and had to agree.

The Suns could beat the Lakers because their strengths were evenly matched.

But the United States Team and Croatia weren’t even in the same league.

The ball is round, but skill is still crucial.

"No worries. It’s the taking part that counts," Chen Yu said with a chuckle, patting Contiguglia on the back.

After a quick meal, the group immediately set off for Niigata Stadium.

The match was scheduled to start at 2:30 PM.

The local fans, or rather, the spectators, were quite supportive. Attendance was decent.

However, about half an hour before the match, a light drizzle began to fall from the gloomy sky.

Chen Yu followed Alina and the others to check on the amount of rainfall.

"It’s fine, just a light rain. The match probably won’t be postponed," Andy Dunbar said.

Alina glanced at the pitch from a distance, confirmed the drainage system was working properly, and then added a warning, "Make sure you all warm up thoroughly."

No matter how good the drainage system was, the grass would be slippery on a rainy day. Without a proper warm-up, it was easy for problems to occur.

Chen Yu looked up at the sky. It was thick with dark clouds, and a sense of unease settled over him. He worried the rain would only get heavier.

But no one could control the weather, and it would affect both teams equally.

All Chen Yu could do was pray that no one got injured today.

Not their opponents, and not his own guys.