basketball never sleeps

Chapter 222: Basketball with Roses

Although it was still June, the cold air from the air conditioner made the locker room as cold as winter.

The young general was still waving his arms passionately and pouring out chicken soup. The score difference between the Crickets and the Lakers was only 8 points at halftime, and they could easily tie the game with a few counterattacks.

At the very least, it's better than the last game where there was no hope at all.

Objectively speaking, the performance of the two teams in the first half has proved that the Mavericks' offensive strategy is correct, and this is indeed the only option with hope of winning.

"The current situation is not just good but very good. With our efforts, we have already opened a gap in the Heat's defense. As long as we persist..."

But, players are neither blind nor deaf.

The Mavericks coaching staff can block the morale-destroying statistics, but they can’t stop the fans from cheering as they witness history.

[Domination] cannot be defined by data simply because the data is not enough to dominate.

When the adrenaline faded and the sweat from their eyes was wiped away, the Mavericks players realized what a terrifying devil they were facing.

Nowitzki closed his eyes, not wanting his teammates and coach to see the confusion and chaos in his eyes.

He was still surviving in the wilderness in the swamp, but Mo Wen was riding a broomstick in the sky like Harry Potter. The bitterness brought by the gap was far greater than gallbladder sashimi.

The young general came up to Nowitzki, patted his shoulder, and looked at him expectantly.

[Driver, you have to take the lead in drinking this chicken soup. If you don’t take the lead, how can they drink it? ]

Seeing that the driver didn't respond, the young general scanned the surrounding players again -

[Why are you all looking at me? Drink it, drink it, drink it while it's hot! ]

Seeing that the players around him were still depressed, the young general finally got angry.

【TNND, why not drink! Drink! 】

"Lift your heads up, look at how miserable you are now. I can't imagine if I let you go back to ten years ago, would you kneel on the ground and play basketball with Michael Dunk?"

"So what if God wore No. 23? He still lost to Bird. Today Satan wore No. 66, and you are afraid?"

"What should I call you, chicken, jackass, ladies?"

The young general who overturned the table became more and more excited, but the atmosphere in the locker room gradually improved amid the foul language.

The players who make it to the finals are not that fragile inside, but they will instinctively doubt themselves when their long-standing, almost foolish self-confidence is challenged.

Gaba --

There were a few snaps from Nowitzki's clenched fist.

When he opened his eyes again, the depressed aura had faded from his eyes like a tide.

Most of his self-pity came from his idleness, and now there was obviously no time for him to reflect.

The young general is right, they still have a chance to win!
Damn it!

Nowitzki slapped his thigh hard, and Terry next to him started yelling.

Terry stared with his eyes wide open and said, "You may be excited, but why are you patting my thigh?"
Looking at Terry's accusatory eyes, Nowitzki suddenly missed Nash. Steve would not be like this.
On the other side, the Heat locker room.

Mo Wen was "arrested" as soon as he entered the door and before he had time to sit down.

O'Neal directed Wade and Haslem to hold his arm, then picked up his phone and pretended to dial a number.

"Hello, FBI, this is Agent S034. I caught an alien in the Heat's locker room. You'd better come over and transfer him to custody immediately!"

"We don't need much backup, but you'd better get Agent Mulder and Miss Scully (X-Files partner) over... Damn, the aliens are about to transform, gun! gun! gun!"

In the cheerful atmosphere, Mo Wen came out and chased O'Neal, who was splashing water at him with a bottle, in the locker room.

The coaching staff and Riley did not try to spoil the fun by stopping them. It was not the first time for everyone to play in the finals, so they were not that nervous. Taking a step back, Mo Wen's performance in the first half was enough to reassure everyone.

Although it was Mo Wen who controlled everything on the court, everyone had the illusion that they could empathize with him.

If you have a teammate at home who is very good at killing, you won’t be afraid of going against the wind, let alone a situation where the wind is in your favor.

The only one who didn't fully integrate into the atmosphere was Wade.

Big Cheeks, who hadn't put in much effort in the first half, looked at Mo Wen who was surrounded by the crowd, feeling both happy and jealous.

"Brothers mention Land Rover in person" is probably his mentality.

Mo Wen’s performance in the first half was so good that even in his dreams he would remind himself to be more restrained.

The most important thing is that it was not that difficult for Mo Wen to complete it.

The Mavericks' offensive tactics certainly played a certain "coordination" role, but more importantly, it was Mo Wen himself who was very strong.

This kind of strength is not the unreasonable strength of Jordan and Kobe, but it is composed of just the right amount of unreasonableness.

For a moment, he seemed to realize something.

Riley, who was observing secretly, nodded as he looked at Wade who was lost in thought.

Go and think about it, that is the guiding light on the road to immortality, the opportunity to become an emperor... ahem, the path to becoming a top superstar is right in front of you!
Back to Mo Wen, although he was happy, he was not too excited about his achievements in the first half.

He had no idea how many times he had achieved similar achievements in the dungeon. The 100% realistic environment had long made him desensitized to such achievements. Even the roar of the Heat DJ seemed a bit old-fashioned to him.

Maybe this is the price to pay for success.

After everyone calmed down a little, Mo Wen took the initiative to pull the tool man Da Fan to discuss the arrangements for the second half. His calm attitude made Da Fan feel as if they were playing a training match.

"In the second half, I will switch to playing without the ball and as the second supporting point, responsible for opening up space. Dwyane will control the ball and focus on their outside shots. Dwyane, watch my gestures later. We will play some in-out tactics. Always pay attention to Shaq's environment..."

What was unexpected was that Mo Wen did not continue to hold the ball to create a record, but instead gave the ball-holding task to Wade like in the regular season.

"Mo, you..."

When Wade was still worrying about how he would compete for FMVP without the ball, unexpectedly, the ball went to his face!
Following Wade's surprised gaze, Mo Wen curled his lips and showed an expression that said "no one knows a son better than his father."

"Don't be too clingy with the ball. If you play well, you will be the one holding the ball and attacking in the next two games. Don't say I didn't give you a chance."

Mo Wen easily picked up the "cake" and "painted" it in an instant to solve Wade's problem.

"Sticky ball? Who are you looking down on? I am the most team-oriented!"

Wade stiffened his neck and looked like he was asking you to stop slandering me.

O'Neal, who witnessed everything, shook his head. The kid still suffered from his lack of education.

In other words, he felt that his condition was not good enough to compete for FMVP, otherwise...

Thinking about Mo Wen's tactical arrangement just now, almost everyone was taken care of except Mo Wen himself. Even if O'Neal was dissatisfied, he seemed unable to find a breakthrough point.

But the problem is, even if Mo Wen didn't say anything, Wade would not be able to ignore him. After all, Mo Wen is the "Emperor of the Ball" who can come back at any time!
O'Neal touched his head with a master's degree and felt for the first time in reality the IQ pressure of the legendary "elite school dropout".

Mo Wen, who was still communicating with his teammates, didn't actually think that much.

Of course he has some emotional considerations for his teammates, but the key to the problem lies in his own physical strength.

Scoring, organization, defense, rebounding, and data all require physical strength to support.

The finals is not a milestone project. Nothing can be selectively given up. Fans cannot feel how tired the players are just by looking at them sweating profusely. The reality is that as physical energy is consumed, the corresponding movements will be involuntarily deformed.

Changing to playing without the ball is also an objective need.

The half-time break was over and No. 98's chicken soup was refilled, but the Mavericks' high morale made everyone look up to them.

But when they still did not choose to double-team Mo Wen, many Mavericks fans in front of the TV couldn't help but curse.

Everyone has super-fast regenerative healing abilities, right?
It was clearly Mo Wen who dominated the first half, so why was there still room for Mo Wen to catch his breath in the second half?

Double-team him! If that doesn't work, how about a human pyramid?
What, don't play without the ball anymore?

Even without the ball, they still have to trap. This is a conspiracy! Can't you see such an obvious conspiracy?
Many Mavericks fans were furious, just like a buffalo caught by a tiger. All they could see was the tiger's bloody mouth, and they felt that the most important thing to do was to pry open the tiger's mouth.

The knowledgeable experts in front of the TV pointed out that the Mavericks' offensive arrangement was correct. Faced with this situation, what they should do is not to treat the symptoms but to try to strangle the tiger's neck and attack its eyes to force the tiger to let go and fight to the death!
But the coaches who really knew the business looked up, then lowered their heads and continued to prepare the Mavericks' funeral eulogy - wake up, that's a fucking tiger!

All Mavericks players were a little uncomfortable with Mo Wen's sudden change to playing without the ball.

Wade with the ball is the natural focus of attention. Mo Wen is now emitting a divine (hanging on the wall) glow, and the "300-pound" guy is constantly reporting points to everyone on the court through the vibration of the floor. There are only two eyeballs, how to choose?
In the second round of the game, when Wade was holding the ball and confronting Jason Terry in the high position, Mo Wen used Finley's screen to make a small counter-run and fake a catch to directly pull the two people up.

Wade's eyes lit up, he feinted his hips, and used his "bull knee" to exert force, directly eating Terry alive.

Danpi felt the danger behind him but still wanted to trust his teammates. When he turned around, he saw Wade charging straight ahead and three arms behind him, not sure whether they wanted to hold him back or send him off.

Maybe the residual heat of the chicken soup was still warming Danpi's stomach, which made him feel like he was the only one who could do it.

He pushed O'Neal away...or rather, took advantage of O'Neal's acceleration to push him away, and staggered to establish a defensive position against Wade.

The moment he saw Wade take off, Danpi had already written the speech for blocking Wade in the post-game interview.

Who would have thought that Wade would lose the ball before he could finish the pull-up move.

Before Danpi could feel proud, the air behind him was stirred.

boom--

"Oh, a can dunk by Shaq, Dampier was trapped like a hamburger, he had no choice! This shot will be one of the top five shots of the night." From the tone of the commentator, I could tell that he didn't feel sorry for Danpi. Is there anything wrong with the strong bullying the weak?

The young general on the sidelines quickly shouted to retreat.

After a round, when the Heat attacked again, Mo Wen, who had been cruising outside the three-point line, spun twice and ran out of space.

The experts who had been observing Mo Wen suddenly realized that the pursuers in the movies who were easily shaken off by the protagonist didn't seem that stupid after all.

Wade's pass was a little slow, but it didn't matter, Mo Wen was fast enough.

Catch the ball, stop suddenly, jump into the air, adjust——

Josh Howard, who was chasing after him, raised his hand like a devout student, but the basketball hit the basket behind him accurately like a teacher's chalk.

If you want to write about silence, you cannot write about a person with his head down and speechless.

Write about the raucous cheers and the cold white lights, write about the sighs of teammates and their stuttering steps; write about the trance of wanting to wipe away the sweat but finding that the sweat has already slipped away; write about the hesitation of wanting to escape the more you protect.

The Mavericks are still holding on, especially Nowitzki, who keeps running back and forth as if he has no money. His fighting spirit cannot change his predicament in positional warfare, so he can only avoid falling into the position, not to mention that it happens to coincide with the young general's demands.

He would still find time to try to fire or break through from the outside, but the German predecessors had already told him that objective conditions could not be changed by human will.

During the period, Terry was under too much pressure and passed the ball to Nowitzki at a wrong time. Nowitzki made a top shot and missed it. He also punched several times inexplicably while returning to defense.

He seemed to understand a little bit the meaning of Harden's iron-blooded jump shot. It was indeed very iron-blooded!

After adjusting the attack angle, the Heat played with even stronger firepower than in the first half.

Wade, who had the ball, and O'Neal, who had a tactical position, also began to warm up. The home fans were still cursing the Heat coach for being a bad person. When they were waiting to see Mo Wen set a record, he actually took the ball away from Mo Wen. Did I buy tickets to see you do something stupid?

But as the game progressed, the sound gradually weakened, and Mo Wen, whose presence was reduced, actually got more opportunities to shoot easily.

Previously, Wade was more concerned with using his teammates to create opportunities for himself in this tactic, but with Mo Wen's big shot in front, he really started to work as a team.

There were even a few times when he gave up his own chances to score to Mo Wen in order to make him "convinced".

James and Wade in front of the TV almost didn’t recognize Wade - my brother can’t be such a bootlicker!

The Heat's combination of inside and outside tactics also made the Mavericks players, who still had the desire to win, exhausted and unable to focus all their attention on the Heat players.

At the end of the third quarter, Mo Wen accounted for one-third of the team's shots, making 8 of 6 shots in a single quarter, and hitting both of his 2 three-pointers, directly raising his score to 50 points.

50 points in three quarters was already an exaggerated result, not to mention that he also set the record for the fastest 50 points in the playoffs, and had 13 assists that could not be ignored. Even so, the fans at the scene still felt unsatisfied.

Because Mo Wen went off to rest for 2 and a half minutes in the middle, and the difference between the two teams had widened to 16 points, wouldn't it be a loss if Mo Wen didn't play in the fourth quarter?

Although they don't know where the loss is.

Thinking about the single-quarter scoring record that Mo Wen once set, they wished that Mo Wen could play the entire fourth quarter and score another 30 points to keep the record and glory in Miami.

But this is not realistic.

At least he needed a rest.

Seeing all the Mavericks players looking depressed, one could never be sure which one of them would be so shameful that he would get hit hard.

If you don’t have enough physical strength, you can’t even perform protective actions. This has happened in dungeons before.

When Kobe gets angry and loses, he uses his iron elbow. When James falls behind, he pushes people in the air almost as a conditioned reflex. This is true for people with the burden of being a star, not to mention others.

Not everyone can be like the Brazilian team, whose morale was completely crushed and who numbly accepted the massacre under the watchful eyes of the public.

In the fourth quarter, even though Mo Wen was resting on the sidelines, everyone's eyes were still unconsciously focused on him.

There are only 11 points left to break the all-time record. Can anyone really sit still?
Brush points?

It's the finals now. Why don't you brush it if you have the ability? Leaving your name in history is right in front of you, why are you still pretending to be so noble!
Da Fan, who was standing by, originally wanted to observe the situation on the field diligently, but his eyes involuntarily followed the audience's gaze and looked towards Mo Wen.

It’s not that he is unprofessional, but he can’t stand the angry looks of the fans. It was clearly Mo Wen’s own decision, so why did the fans think that he was the one who held Mo Wen down?
If that look was replaced by a knife, Da Fan would have become "baby food" by now.

You keep saying I'm the mascot, and now you think I'm the boss. What do you fans want from me?

"The score difference is 15 points, you have rested for quite some time, and the fans have been calling for you for a long time, why don't you just go in."

Halfway through the fourth quarter, Dafan couldn't stand the fans' increasingly loud shouts and asked Mo Wen to come out again. Mo Wen was not the kind of person who was hypocritical. He felt that his condition had almost recovered, so he stood on the sidelines and rotated his position amid the cheers of the crowd.

The young general, who wanted to surrender but also wanted to save face and even had a glimmer of hope, finally woke up to the alarm clock ringing at eight in the morning.

I want, I want, and I also want finally turned into one sentence - I can't afford it.

A slow death like in Game 1 of the Finals is certainly painful, but if the fast break cannot fight poison with poison, the result will only be adding poison to poison.

If the Mavericks players are sober enough and use a five-man team to force Mo Wen to pass the ball, forcing other Heat players to score easily and forcing the score difference to widen quickly, there is still hope of using morality to kidnap Mo Wen.

But there is no if.

What's more, Mo Wen has no morals.

While he was directing his teammates to use tactics to create space for him to cut into the gaps, he also demonstrated defensive flexibility by setting an example himself.

The Heat's group of veterans immediately understood Mo Wen's hint.

Isn’t this just acting in your true colors…acting in your true nature?

Blind, everyone is blind, blind spots are good!
However, even though the Heat players blatantly retreated on defense, the score difference between the two teams did not change much.

Mo Wen's scoring efficiency was not high when he was double-teamed, but he was still able to continue scoring. The Mavericks had lost their spirit. They had opportunities but were not determined. Even when they shot against the clock, it seemed like they were acting.

He only showed full aggressiveness when defending, but not towards the ball, but towards Mo Wen.

The scene was not pretty, but no one cared.

You have to admit that rising numbers always have a kind of magic.

Wade realized that if Mo Wen broke the record, he might not get the FMVP, so he did not play tricks, but cooperated with Mo Wen's performance diligently.

Although he is selfish, his selfishness has limits.

When Wade made a long pass to help Mo Wen score his 59th point, he was even more excited than Mo Wen.

He ran across half the court and bumped chests with Mo Wen, shouting excitedly—

"Tonight, you are their God, but I am your God!"

Under normal circumstances, these words would surely lead to Mo Wen's suppression, but tonight, let him be.

In the ABC studio, the popular female anchor Erin was still reading out the statistical records of the NBA Finals in history, but the special guest, Little Van Gandhi, frowned.

As a coach who had dreamed of having Mo Wen and had studied him, Xiao Fan always felt that Mo Wen's "performance" tonight was missing something.

McBreen, who was standing next to him, noticed Xiao Fan's frown.

"Have you thought of something?"

"No, I just feel like something is missing." Xiao Fan's tone was a little uncertain.

"What's missing? If he can make one more shot, it will be a perfect farewell tonight." Mike Breen's eyes were full of admiration.

In his more than ten years of commentary career, Mo Wen is the "luckiest" player he has ever seen. As a famous commentator who started from the Knicks, he has seen too many ups and downs in fate since Starks's three-pointer in the finals that determined the joys and sorrows of a generation of New Yorkers.

Think about how the Knicks spend hundreds of millions to support a group of stars who can't even make it to the playoffs, and then look at how Mo Wen has never even received an annual salary of tens of millions, but has already won the honor of a "dynasty". It really makes people wonder if there is such a thing as destiny.

"Just one goal isn't enough." As time went to the last minute, Xiao Fan and McBreen seemed to have grasped something.

What is missing?

Watching Mo Wen slowly walk to midfield with the ball, a strong sense of déjà vu finally awakened their memories.

"Super long three-pointer!"

"Logo shot!"

The sound from the TV station still couldn't reach the court. Josh, Devin Harris, and Terry, who were guarding in front of Mo Wen, were still thinking about how to use the "meat trap Mo" method to disrupt Mo Wen's offense, or even destroy Mo Wen.

Mo Wen had already stood at the end of the Heat logo.

Josh: I advise you to calm down!

Harris: I advise you to be kind!
Terry: I... forget it, damn it!
Mo Wen took a deep breath. The smell was very strange. In addition to the mixed sour smell of sweat, there seemed to be a hint of floral scent.

Swah——

The spinning basketball left a blurry trail under the interlaced lights on the ceiling, and fell into the basket as countless people watched.

The number on the ceiling screen jumped to 62, and after a moment of silence, there was a deafening carnival.

Before his teammates surrounded him, he opened his arms and gave a standard behind-the-back farewell gesture.

Mo Wen's farewell performance ended perfectly.

……

I don’t know how many girls cried their eyes out, and how many fans shouted their throats out.

The time on the field is not over yet, and there are at least two games left to be played in the future.

But no one doubts that the Heat have reached the finish line, and all that is left is to put the final period.

Mo Wen's No. 66 jersey will temporarily disappear from the American Airlines Arena after tonight, and the next time it appears, it will probably be when the Heat retire his jersey.

Terry symbolically used up the last round, and when he looked back, most of his teammates and coaches had already returned through the player tunnel.

After Mo Wen stayed on the field as usual to be interviewed and recited the entire text of the script he had prepared before, he did not leave early. Instead, under the supervision of security personnel, he signed autographs and took photos with the fans on the sidelines.

Of course, some dedicated media friends quietly recorded this people-friendly scene.

Little Catherine stayed by Mo Wen's side, holding the game ball and some gifts from fans, and waited quietly for Mo Wen to finish.

"Thanks a lot."

With the help of the security guards and the numerous fans, Mo Wen finally had time to take care of his girlfriend.

The two of them leaned their heads against each other for a while until the assistant next to them reminded them that it was time to wash up and attend the formal press conference.

Looking at his girlfriend holding flowers and a basketball, Mo Wen was still wondering whether he should help her get some. The assistant next to him thought he was looking for something, so he added:

"The back of the game net will be cut for you, but the team will keep half of it as a souvenir. I hope you don't mind."

Mo Wen suddenly had an idea.

"Are there any team logo stickers?"

"Ah? Yes!"

The team assistant pulled a few out of his pocket.

Mo Wen took out a red rose from the bouquet sent by the fans, stuck it on the basketball with a sticker, then grabbed the basketball and ran back to the court through the player tunnel.

Under the puzzled gazes of the crowd, Mo Wen took three steps with the ball in his arms, and then shot -

The basketball was stuck on the neck of the basket.

The upturned rose hangs above the basket, seeming to be close yet distant, as if it means something, yet seems to be meaningless.

"Let it stay here...let it stay here."

After saying that, Mo Wen left without looking back.

The staff who were cleaning up the scene were a little confused, but the reporters who were about to leave turned back and took a lot of photos of the basketball hoop.

Although the team assistant didn't understand it, he knew the value of the basketball and asked two security guards to protect the picture.

Coming out of the bathroom, Mo Wen, freshly dressed, returned to the camera.

Although he had been interviewed countless times before, when he appeared as the single-game scoring champion in the finals, it was as if the media had restored the factory settings and started to get to know him all over again.

Of course, his achievements are well deserved.

62+13, this kind of data is shocking enough even in the regular season, let alone the NBA Finals that the basketball community all over the world is watching.

"In fact, this is not my credit. My achievements today are all due to the conditions created for me by everyone's sacrifice..."

"I love our team, we are the best team..."

"Am I possessed by the devil? Come on, Pat (Riley) is sitting right here!"

"How did I get to where I am today? Wearing winner sneakers and enjoying a successful life! Next."

"Don't just ask me. I'm a very humble person. If you can't ask me anything, let me teach you. Shaq, what do you think of Mo's performance today?"

"..."

Mo Wen was able to handle most of the problems with ease. He was not overly complacent, and did not even show too much optimism about the upcoming games.

The main reason is that we should learn from the past. In the finals of this series in history, the Mavericks won two consecutive games at home, and then the team began to prepare for the championship parade. In the end, the joy turned into sorrow.

After all, the NBA is a business league, and there is a president above it who sits in the position of the king of hell and plays the devil's tricks.

There were also some pointed interview questions, most of which compared Mo Wen with various famous veterans.

Especially after Mo Wen's score in the finals surpassed Danzi's, the Danzi content in the interview continued to increase.

From [Who do you think is better, you or the rookie Michael Dunk?] to [Who is better, you or the 93 Michael Dunk?], looking at the reporters' enthusiastic eyes, they were full of the desire to pay off their credit cards.

Mo Wen actually wanted to say: "I'll go 50-50 with him. Sometimes I've picked on him."

And he really isn't just bragging.

When he's in good form in the dungeon, there's a real chance he can knock down the elixir.

When he meets the Wizards Jordan, he can even severely beat that dumb guy.

It's a pity that he couldn't say such things. If he missed a word, it might be interpreted in various ways later.

As long as there is a gap in honors, any excuses are pale. Honors cannot represent the strength of the players, but they can represent the strength of the fans.

After too much perfunctory talk, Mo Wen would also interject a few words of truth -

"Compared to Michael Dunk, I am undoubtedly better... Just kidding, he is already an old man in his 50s. You can call Larry Bird and Magic Johnson together and I will not be inferior to them."

"The past was the past, the present is the present, and I am the future... Don't get me wrong, this is a line from a movie."

In fact, in the eyes of the American media, even if Mo Wen was speaking the truth, he was being modest.

The highest scoring record in the Finals + the highest assists record in the Finals + the highest steals record in the Finals.

If you change the old American flag to this one, you'll have to consider getting a goat as a pet.

Danzi in front of the TV also felt the oppression from the "future".

Looking at Mo Wen's exaggerated statistics and the championship ring he was about to get, and thinking back to the good time he had wasted when he was young, he couldn't help but sigh.

If only he could have the option of changing teams like Mo Wen...

Forget it. He can't afford to lose face by changing teams just for a few championships.

After the press conference, Mo Wen, who wanted to go home, was stopped by Riley.

Riley had already learned from the team assistant about the rose basketball stuck in the neck of the basket. After the game, the stadium, along with the floor and the basketball stand, would be dismantled, and the ball naturally fell into Riley's hands.

The two of them watched the ball in silence for a long time. Seeing that Mo Wen was still sleepy and didn't care, Riley suddenly smiled.

"You know what I saw?"

"what?"

"I see the weight of your ambition."

Riley weighed the light ball in his hand, as if it was really just an ordinary ball, a ball without record and glory.

"Yawn, you think too much, old man. I took it as a small matter. Don't think too much about it. You will get old quickly." Mo Wen shook his head and stood up to leave.

"Actually, you could have stayed." Riley's dry tone revealed a hint of regret.

"The world will continue to turn without me." Mo Wen paused and said with self-awareness.

"That's right, you can go now." Riley exhaled, "Put this ball...in that cabinet first. When the cabinet is full, I'll notify you to come and get it."

Mo Wen didn't say anything, just smiled slightly and nodded.

Holding the ball, Riley came to the place where the Heat championship trophy was placed.

The second trophy was on the way, so it was posted with roses, but the basketball was placed in the third display case by him.

"Take a good look."

Snapped--

Lights went out.

(End of this chapter)