Chapter 552: I Don't Want the Four‑Game Finals MVP, Only the Three‑Game Finals MVP

The Brooklyn Nets found some opportunities at the start of the second half; they used the Knicks' brand‑new lineup, fresh on the scene, to execute three beautiful offensive‑defensive runs, cutting the gap by eight points.

But as Stephen Nash broke into the paint and passed to Montae Ellis, who continued the assault on the paint and finished with a one‑hand layup, the lineup seemed to have opened its meridians.

Montae Ellis's attacking advantage was unleashed, and he and Tyson Chandler developed chemistry, with Chandler providing exceptionally high‑quality screens.

At the same time, Stephen Nash's projectile‑passing skill was strong; he helped Montae Ellis link up with Josh Smith's athleticism, and Barianni contributed precise shooting from beyond the three‑point line.

This caused the Nets great trouble.

In effect, the Nets became a one‑man show for Carmelo Anthony; Deron Williams could use his size to score over Nash, but he no longer had the ability to orchestrate the whole game, and Brooklyn lacked the chemistry for pick‑and‑roll with him.

Brook Lopez's isolation game also suffered under Tyson Chandler's defense; Chandler's height and length, combined with his rich defensive experience and Josh Smith roaming nearby, made Lopez's shots extremely difficult.

"The Nets can't even suppress this lineup; how did they become the Eastern second?"

Barclay couldn't help but ask.

He didn't expect Montae Ellis and this lineup could match the Nets; although the Nets were narrowing the score, they did so very slowly.

This was quite unfavorable for them.

Their lineup was already on the older side, and the Knicks' starters were all sitting comfortably on the bench.

Montae Ellis ran this Philadelphia scheme for about eight minutes.

Larry Brown brought in his Pistons system.

Fan Xi, Hamilton, Prince, Kevin Garnett and Ben Wallace stepped onto the court.

When this lineup took the floor, Charles Barclay was stunned. He screamed on TV, "My eyes aren't playing tricks on me, right? My God, it's 2014, not 2004—what am I seeing? Ben Wallace, Hamilton and Prince are back on the playoff stage? Oh my God! Can they still play? Do they still have chemistry?"

The viewers in front of the TV were also full of shock and exclamations.

Although back then no fans liked the Pistons' Five Tigers, as time passed nostalgic fans naturally emerged. That's perfectly normal.

Prince was the youngest of the Pistons' Five Tigers; his competitive condition was still good, and he could reliably serve as an important rotation player on other teams, occasionally starting without major issue.

Hamilton seemed to have achieved fame; he won two more championships with Kuaisuan, and now his stint with the Knicks is a retirement phase.

Ben Wallace was the oldest; when he entered the 1996 draft, he was already an older rookie.

During that regular season, he barely saw any playing time. The Knicks never cut him; everyone treated him as the Knicks' mascot, a mascot who never even played in garbage time. New York‑adjacent media called him the locker‑room leader, the team's assistant coach.

Everyone thought his fuel tank was empty.

This issue became public shortly after he secured a max contract with the Bulls. Then he went to Cleveland to assist Le Bu Lang Zhang Si, and was also deemed a high‑salary underperformer.

After that he gradually faded from public view, until this season when he returned to the Knicks.

His beard is now speckled with gray, and he has cut off his afro.

He looks like a plain, elderly Black man, no longer exuding the killer instinct of his younger days.

Back then Ben Wallace was famous for his defense: strong power, quick movement, and a hard‑nosed style, but he was short. As he aged, his legs deteriorated first, and his lateral movement was deemed poor.

Thus, in the latter part of his career, he was left only to post up in the paint.

Fan Xi slowed his pace, mimicking Bilupusi's roaming at the top of the three‑point arc, even gesturing the classic Bilupusi move with his hands.

Fan Xi's imitation was so spot‑on that Larry Brown on the sideline was laughing heartily.

But that was only a superficial copy. When Fan Xi took his first step, everyone knew Bilupusi could never match Fan Xi's defensive tearing ability.

Fan Xi drove into the free‑throw lane, forcing the Nets to collapse their defense; Fan Xi passed into the paint, Ben Wallace caught the ball, jumped, and used his left hand to drop it into the hoop… honestly, his motion was a bit jerky, not smooth—like an old‑school court veteran, methodical and precise.

However, the Lopez pressed against his side was not quick either; he couldn't create a barrier, even with his height and length.

The veteran's explosive muscles nullified any advantage the tall, long‑armed youngster might have had.

"Are today's centers this soft in the post?"

After Ben Wallace scored, he still delivered a psychological jab at Lopez.

Kevin Garnett nearby said, "He's not soft; there's someone even softer."

Garnett's addition didn't make Brook Lopez's face light up.

Ben Wallace glanced at Garnett, "Even softer?"

Garnett nodded, "Let me put it this way: if I were in this era, I'd voluntarily apply to play center!"

Ben Wallace heard that and understood immediately.

Garnett playing center was a famous meme. When Garnett debuted, he was uneasy about pure muscle battles in the paint, so he deliberately under‑reported his height—though he stood next to O'Neal, he claimed to be only 211 cm and moved to power forward.

This shows how fierce paint battles were in the 1990s NBA.

Back in the half‑court, Lopez, apparently displeased by Ben Wallace's taunt, turned his back and blocked Wallace for the ball.

Wallace was much shorter than him.

Wallace's listed height is 206 cm, but his actual height is around two meters; in recent years, aging, he says his barefoot height has dropped below two meters.

Thus, Lopez pinned Wallace; from the front, Wallace vanished.

Deron quickly passed the ball in.

But as soon as Lopez caught the ball, he felt Ben Wallace pushing from behind; Wallace directly held up his lower body.

He caught the ball, slapped it, sat back, remained motionless, yet his body lunged forward a bit.

Newton's law was vivid at that moment.

Who is Ben Wallace?

One of the few who could stand up to a peak‑era O'Neal.

Lopez couldn't hold, so he could only spin quickly.

But Ben Wallace's experience was vast; although his lateral speed had slowed, his knack for securing defensive positions remained.

He planted himself at Lopez's spot, squeezing his offensive space; the unsteady Lopez could only rush his shot.

But as soon as he shot, Kevin Garnett lunged out from behind.

Garnett… the most versatile power forward in league history, his help‑defense was top‑tier, and at his peak he was one of the few who could guard from the center to the five positions.

Lopez's stumbling, rushed shot in front of him—wasn't that a gamble?

Bang!

Garnett slapped the basketball onto the backboard, and Ben Wallace turned his back, deftly grabbing the rebound in perfect sync.

The elderly couple exchanged a smile.

Pass the ball to Fan Xi.

Fan Xi slowed the pace, advancing forward very slowly. He had to give the veteran enough time to return to the half‑court.

"Kevin, if we played together in our prime, how many championships would we win?" Ben Wallace said while running back, chatting with Garnett.

"It's hard to say about others, but we can definitely contain the peak shark," Garnett said without exaggeration.

Indeed.

Ben Wallace, together with Rashad Wallace, could each take a championship from under the Lakers; Ben Wallace paired with the more versatile, defensively adept Garnett would probably rewrite the Lakers' early‑century three‑peat dynasty.

"Unfortunately, when they were young they never played together on the same team," Charles Barkley said regretfully on TV.

Kenny added, "Yeah, if those two teamed up in their primes, the whole league's history would have to be rewritten."

Fan Xi drove the ball into the frontcourt. Prince and Ben Wallace ran a classic big‑cross tactic, but the ball was passed by Fan Xi to the corner, where Hamilton caught it and nailed a three‑pointer.

The Nets fell back again, step by step.

Even with the Knicks inserting Ben Wallace, who has logged less than 20 minutes this season, they still kept them in line.

The Nets felt terrible.

Their focus was scattered, and their fighting spirit, after a surge, began to plummet rapidly.

The third quarter ended quickly.

The Knicks, using the late‑stage Detroit system, widened the gap to 26 points again.

It was as if they swapped two rotation lineups, and the Nets only clawed back three points.

That was somewhat a humiliation of the Nets' effort.

When the fourth quarter began, the Knicks deployed a brand‑new lineup, with Stephen Nash and Stade Mayer leading Tyson Chandler, Hamilton, and Bialyani in search of the old Suns' fast‑break system.

No one ignored this wave of nostalgia.

At this point, the Nets also rotated players; a Knicks player spotted former teammate Raymond Felton, whose face was sour, and he was treated as a Deron replica.

However, he intended to do something, but his teammates were all downcast.

He could only switch to solo mode.

But his individual offensive firepower could only be described as a trickle of water from a cup, utterly powerless against the Knicks' massive fast‑break.

The point gap widened further.

The media camera panned to the Nets' bench, where Paul Pierce stared at the court with a bewildered expression, his eyes dim, listless, yet with a faint, indifferent glint.

Carmelo Anthony covered his head with a towel, exposing only his eyes, refusing to let anyone see his expression.

But inside, he was certainly regretful.

Such a huge gap made him soberly realize that this season was doomed to be futile. Their once‑bright blueprint had turned to bubbles.

Deron Williams, sitting to his left, spread his legs, looking a bit slackerish.

These are their Three Giants.

If you count the sulky Brook Lopez, that makes four giants.

But, what could they do?

They could change nothing; they could only watch time slip away, and when the final whistle blew, hurriedly don their coats and leave the arena, which had already begun cheering for the Knicks.

Indeed, the fourth quarter had completely devolved into garbage time.

The Nets' interim head coach Horlins did not put the four giants back in, knowing it was futile and would only give the Knicks more reason to slaughter them.

Kenny Smith called it the wisest decision Horlins made in this game, as he averted a disaster.

But the final 32‑point gap still left the Nets looking disgraceful.

They were second in the regular season, and had boldly claimed they would face the Miami Heat Big Three in a peak showdown.

But after this game, no one believed they could get past the first round.

They were destined to be eliminated by a seventh seed.

"The only suspense I have for this series is... can the Nets avoid being swept?" the honest Earl Johnson said after the game, a 'vicious' yet fair remark.

Reporters clearly had many topics they wanted to ask Fan Xi.

Even though Fan Xi was about to leave early, a TNT sideline reporter stopped him. "Hey, Jie Ke. We want to ask, you achieved a seamless big win in this game—was that prepared in advance? We saw earlier you lost to the Nets not long ago, yet tonight you showed such a huge gap; did you deliberately lose before..."

"We indeed didn't play well in that game," Fan Xi said sincerely. "Winning by so many points also surprised us."

"But now there's a voice online saying you intentionally lost the regular season to the Nets just to slaughter them in the playoffs," the reporter pressed.

"No, that's a rumor. Tonight's result came from our hard work, not any calculation," Fan Xi said with a smile. "Math can't solve problems on the court."

"Then how many points would you give the Knicks tonight?"

"Ninety‑nine points," Fan Xi replied.

"Why subtract one point, not a hundred?"

"Because I'm worried they'd become arrogant."

"Jie Ke, you posted 22 points, 11 assists and 9 rebounds tonight—a solid triple‑double. Yet fans think the stat is a bit thin; have you considered creating a super miracle in the playoffs? Remember, in the regular season you scored 101 points against the Nets, a historic basketball miracle..."

"No," Fan Xi shook his head, sincerely saying, "I just want to win. Winning is the most important; in the playoffs, people won't remember the highest scorer, only who won the championship and who was Finals MVP."

"Oh!! Jie Ke, are you revealing something? Your goal is the championship; do you want this year's Finals MVP?" the reporter rushed to break the silence, fearing Fan Xi would slip away.

Fan Xi smiled, unperturbed. "Of course, a Finals MVP who doesn't want the Finals MVP isn't a good Finals MVP. A three‑peat Finals MVP who doesn't want a four‑peat Finals MVP is even less a good three‑peat Finals MVP."

Fan Xi rattled off a tongue‑twister, paused a few seconds, then added, "I'm talking about myself. I'm not alluding to Michael Jordan retiring after winning three consecutive Finals MVPs."

It's fine that Fan Xi didn't mention it.

Bringing it up, the topic instantly arose.

…