Chapter 173: The biggest tragedy of the finals

"Winning is of course interesting."

Otherwise, why work hard?

Really just like Kuroko, as long as you play happily?

If so, you might as well go play with yourself; why play ball?

Basketball has never been one person's dribbling.

This doesn't mean that playing ball must be united and team-oriented.

Rather, every team has a group of loyal fans behind them.

Like the Clevelanders.

Their market is not big, the city is not advanced, and they are like beggars in front of Los Angeles and New York. Before their boss made his fortune, he only knew how to write letters to David Stern to complain every day.

People describe Cleveland with terms like "C-Village," mocking these country bumpkins for being whimsical, with no championship for 50 years.

And the Cleveland Cavaliers, because of this, lack attraction to stars and haven't won any sports championship for half a century.

1989, one of Jordan's representative works.

That was a match in the first round of the Eastern Conference playoffs. Previously, the Cleveland Cavaliers and the Chicago Bulls had tied the series 2:2.

Because the format at that time was BO5, a "first to three" format, this match became a life-and-death battle.

With 7 seconds left before the end of the match, the Clevelanders were leading the Bulls by one point, 98:97.

Everyone knows what happened later: Jordan, facing Craig Ehlo's defense, used his speed to tear through the opponent's defensive line, broke into the mid-range, and hit a super high-difficulty mid-range shot over Larry Nance, taking the lead in one fell swoop.

This lead change was also the only time the Bulls took the lead in the entire match.

This shot was evaluated by the media as "The Shot!"

It was also this shot that shattered the hearts of the Clevelanders and destroyed their dreams.

You can't imagine how heartbroken the Clevelanders were at that time.

But people know that after this night, the Clevelanders cheered up again, standing with the team for fifty years as one day.

Finally, after waiting for half a century, the young people had become old men, and they waited for their "Chosen One," ending this long championship drought.

On that summer night in 2016, countless Clevelanders cried with excitement.

As the old man faced the camera after the match and shouted that deafening "Cleveland, this is for you!" to the whole world,

those old men who had waited for half a century seemed to have returned to their youth for a moment; decades of waiting were not in vain!

So bullshit like "playing ball is just for fun" is truly selfish.

Every team, even if it's not an NBA team, just a CBA one, has thousands of fans standing behind them, with countless fathers and elders expecting you to return in triumph.

Most of these fans have accompanied you through the darkest years, never leaving or abandoning you.

Since you put on that jersey, you have to fight for them.

The money fans spend on tickets and merchandise doesn't come from the wind!

If you want to play "happy basketball," go find that silly guy Howard!

Today's Teikou is united.

They want to fight for themselves, for the basketball club, for glory, and even more for those fans who have followed them all the way from the group stage to Kyoto.

The day of the finals.

Fans from both sides shouted deafeningly across the "Chu River and Han Border," attempting to suppress the other side's voice completely, so that their own team's players would only hear their own voices.

Shirogane Ginpachi made adjustments to the personnel today.

To make full use of this morale, he threw Tiandao and the others all onto the bench.

Let Yamanaka Yuta and other original first-string players play the first quarter against the opponent.

"We at Teikou don't just have a group of first-years!"

A simple sentence is enough to make this batch of players like Yamanaka Yuta boil with blood.

Therefore, after the match started, you could see how they fought against the opponent regardless of everything.

No reservations, every ball must be contested.

This kind of shock is something Tiandao and the others couldn't bring; it was like a war.

Every time they scored, the benches of both sides would be in chaos, scrambling to jump up and wave towels to cheer for their teammates.

Bai Jin Gengzao was observing the expressions of the several first-years at all times, and after finding that they were not distracted as usual and were watching very seriously, he nodded with satisfaction.

"This is the last lesson your seniors are giving you."

In terms of technology, Yamanaka Yuta and others have nothing to teach Tiandao and the others, because the latter had long surpassed the former.

But spirit and will can be inherited.

He hopes that these children who have been sailing smoothly understand that the court is a place where you need to fight with all your strength to win.

"Yosa!"

"Good shot!"

"Defend them!"

The court was filled with such shouts; these lines, which Tiandao usually thought were extremely cliché, seemed particularly powerful today.

"Damn, this little old man really has a way; even I, at my age, am getting all fired up."

Before Tiandao went on court in the second quarter, his action of throwing away his jacket was particularly powerful.

The several first-years all wished they could swallow the opponent.

Today's Teikou played particularly unitedly; in the finals where they most needed to perform, they played the best state of the entire National Tournament.

Even Murasakibara, that lazy dog, roared to the sky after a violent dunk.

Seeing this, Bai Jin Gengzao knew that his goal had been achieved; he didn't need to worry about Teikou for the next two years.

The enemy soon lost themselves in Teikou's tidal offense.

Teikou bombed for a perverted 38 points in the second quarter and limited the opponent's score to only 10, playing out a heaven-defying 28-point difference in a single quarter.

In the second half, Bai Jin Gengzao had no intention of calling it a day.

It's the last match anyway; there's no need to hide anything.

And so, the biggest tragedy in the history of the National Tournament finals happened.

When the match time ran out, the referee couldn't wait to blow the whistle to end the match.

Because at this moment, the numbers on the scoreboard had become a staggering 142:53!

A full 89-point difference, just 11 points short of breaking 100... ===== CHAPTER 175 =====