Chapter 935 - 6 Saying Thank You

In the opening five minutes of the game, Mutombo immediately felt the intensity of Ah Gan, and understood why Ewing once said, "If you can compete against Ah Gan, you’re already a qualified NBA center."

Mutombo suddenly realized that all of his previous tricks and experience against opponents were useless. The shots he used to block with ease were now always just a fraction of a second too late.

It was that fraction of a second, Mutombo knew, that marked a huge gap.

By the second quarter, whenever Gan Guoyang got the ball in the low post, Mutombo began to panic internally.

He had no idea what Ah Gan would do next—would he go for a direct shot, back down and push inside, or pass the ball to a teammate for an attack at the basket?

For a defender, the unpredictability of an opponent’s actions is always the most frustrating challenge, much like a goalkeeper facing a penalty kick. Sometimes, decisively diving in one direction to force a decision from the striker yields better results.

But that approach didn’t work against Ah Gan. His reactions were lightning-fast, and his gaze revealed nothing—you couldn’t discern his next move.

In truth, even Ah Gan himself didn’t know. Years of grueling training and experience in major competitions had already ingrained unparalleled muscle memory and neural reflexes in him.

For most of his offensive plays, he didn’t need to engage his conscious mind. Instead, he relied on his subconscious and seamless rapport with teammates developed over years, making everything look smooth and instinctive.

Coincidentally, the Nuggets’ head coach Paul Westhead was a coach with a unique understanding of defense. He disliked double-teaming and stacking defenders in the paint because it hindered his team’s ability to launch quick transitions.

They favored tight pressure defense, focusing on controlling passes instead of the ball handler, then securing defensive rebounds. Once the backcourt players immediately pushed forward for fast breaks without any delay.

Much like Doug Moe, Westhead didn’t like meticulously calculating individual possessions. He cared about the overall game tempo and preferred to speed things up as much as possible.

The opponent might score a lot, but as long as his team scored more, they would win the game. That was Westhead’s basketball philosophy.

Some games were so fast-paced that even the referees struggled to keep up physically. After running back and forth too much, they ended up staying in place to blow the whistle.

During the 1990 season, Westhead led his team against Louisiana State University, which featured a super-strong, towering center named Shaquille O’Neal.

In that game, O’Neal started off with five huge blocks, putting Loyola Marymount University behind early. But Loyola Marymount responded with their frenetic offensive pace, forcing the towering and powerful LSU team to run themselves ragged.

By the end, LSU’s players were utterly exhausted. To call a timeout, they deliberately threw the ball out of bounds for a dead-ball timeout.

The game went into overtime, with an astonishing scoreline of 134–134. Even though Loyola Marymount ultimately lost, fans at the Maravich Sports Center remarked it was the most exciting game they’d ever watched there.

That season, under Westhead’s leadership, Loyola Marymount showcased a series of crazy offensive performances. They belonged to the WCC conference, sharing the same division as Gonzaga University.

In a game against Gonzaga, they scored 128 points. Against Oregon State, Payton racked up 48 points, while Loyola Marymount’s Bo Kimble recorded 53 points.

These stats were rare in the NCAA and could only occur in Loyola Marymount’s games due to their incredibly fast-paced style.

Westhead hoped to use this basketball philosophy to stage a comeback in the NBA and revive the championship dreams that had ended prematurely in Los Angeles in 1980.

However, with the Nuggets, while their offense was undeniably frenetic, their defense was equally chaotic, resulting in massive point deficits.

In Westhead’s debut game coaching the Nuggets against the Warriors, the score was 158–163, with the Nuggets losing the match.

During the late 80s and early 90s, when the league was shifting towards defense-focused strategies, such high-scoring shootouts became exceedingly rare.

Later, in a game against the Spurs coached by Larry Brown, the scoreline was 153–161.

It was no minor feat to allow a Larry Brown-coached team to score 161 points. Westhead’s strategy appeared less effective in the NBA.

In the NCAA, many players weren’t of the highest caliber. When faced with such fast offensive tempos, their physical stamina often became a problem.

But NBA players were all elites—the best of the best. Veterans were battle-hardened, possessed abundant stamina, and some players were renowned for being physical freaks.

The Los Angeles Lakers of old didn’t just overwhelm opponents with speed and endurance—they had extraordinary talent, something the Nuggets lacked.

On November 10, 1990, in a game between the Nuggets and the Suns, Westhead’s coaching philosophy faced its greatest scrutiny and challenge.

By halftime, the score was 110–85.

No, that wasn’t the score at the end of the game; it was the halftime score. The Suns had already scored 110 points.

In the locker room, Westhead faced questions from his players. The Suns seemed poised to break records and score 200 points.

Westhead shook his head and said the Suns would tire—they wouldn’t reach 200 points.

Ultimately, the Suns ended the game with a staggering 173 points, already an unimaginable total.

Just 27 points short of 200, it felt like, if Westhead continued on this path, conceding 200 points was only a matter of time.