Chapter 114: You've Been Played

The Mavericks rekindled their hope for victory. With the first half still underway, a deficit of a dozen points or so wasn’t insurmountable. Besides, the Warriors’ defense was weak—once their defense tightened up, it might only take four or five possessions to close the gap.

Once again, Kidd orchestrated the offense, passing the ball to Nowitzki near the midcourt high position. Nowitzki aggressively attacked the Warriors’ backup power forward. As he spun around, Jobs, who had never accepted players like Nowitzki, fiercely stuck close to him. Yet, Nowitzki’s jump shot hit nothing but net, and he drew a foul on Jobs, converting the free throw as well. Undoubtedly, this was a tremendous boost to the Mavericks’ morale. You see, this is what a true team leader does—he knows when to step up for the team in its hour of greatest need.

Lin Fei held the ball and advanced the offense, still with the entire bench lineup on the court.

This time, Lin Fei’s movement wasn’t as swift as usual. The Mavericks repeated their old defensive play: one player guarded the ball handler directly, another provided assistance behind, forming a secondary defensive line to prevent Lin Fei from driving past the primary defender and taking a shot. This setup was deadly. Yet, the Mavericks’ players sensed something was amiss. Usually, Lin Fei carried the ball alone, sprinting fiercely, often positioning himself at the very front during ball possession. But now, some of his teammates were even ahead of him.

Lin Fei glanced at his primary defender, Terry. His breathing remained light and even, his heartbeat steady. The rhythm of the ball and his entire body’s movement were perfectly synchronized—undeniably the best state for Lin Fei’s offense.

Lin Fei accelerated, attempting to shake off Terry. But Terry’s long arms slightly slowed his pace. Behind Terry, defenders were ready to assist. Lin Fei spun once more. Did he intend to repeat the earlier move? My goodness! A smart man doesn’t stumble twice in the same place—why didn’t Lin Fei believe that? Sure enough, as he spun, two defenders closed in. Maybe Lin Fei could sink a three-pointer from near the arc, but this spot was precarious, and even getting the ball to the rim was impressive. Lin Fei jumped and seemed poised to unleash his classic shot. Everyone’s eyes widened, anticipating how he would release the ball.

If it went in, many would praise him as a genius. If it missed, he'd surely be scorned as reckless.

At the apex of his jump, Lin Fei was beyond the reach of a block. Yet, his shooting form seemed distorted. The shot looked doomed; Lin Fei hadn’t found his rhythm, and his release lacked his usual finesse.

The ball sailed toward the basket. From afar, all knew it was hopeless. Another misfire? The first reaction was, “Has his mind short-circuited? If he plays like this, the Warriors’ promising lead might be squandered.”

But Lin Fei’s expression didn’t reflect frustration or regret. If you observed closely, every shooter carries a premonition post-release—a subtle expression revealing how likely the shot is to score. It’s an instinct, a feel.

When the ball was about three meters from the hoop, Terry’s pupils suddenly dilated sixfold.

“No! That wasn’t a shot! It was a pass!”

At that very moment, all eyes fixed beneath the basket on the Warriors’ backup small forward, Jock. Jock leapt, caught the ball midair, and slammed it fiercely through the hoop.

The arena erupted like thunder.

Unbelievable! Absolutely unbelievable!

From half-court distance, amidst chaos, a precise assist—truly a rare feat.

Many wondered whether Lin Fei intended to pass or shoot. Who could say? Only a fool would dwell on it. Everyone witnessed it—a pass deserving a spot among the season’s top ten assists.

The Mavericks’ offense failed to score on that possession. The Warriors grabbed the rebound. Seizing the moment, Lin Fei darted to a teammate who secured the board and took off in fast break. The Mavericks seemed frantic, rushing forward in a frenzy. “Stop him!” someone shouted.

As Lin Fei dribbled past midcourt, Terry tried to intercept, stretching his arms wide to expand his defensive reach. Lin Fei responded with a spin move, pushing past Terry’s outstretched arm. Ahead, the path was clear. With Lin Fei’s speed, reaching the basket was mere moments away.

Sensing danger, Terry hastily called for help, hoping to foul and slow Lin Fei’s advance. As Terry grabbed him, Lin Fei felt the force and assumed it was a foul. He jumped and released the ball midair. Terry, enraged, yanked Lin Fei hard from behind. Lin Fei lost balance, pushed backwards, but summoned all his strength to release the shot. Though lacking his usual grace, the ball left his hands—better to shoot than not.

The referee’s whistle blew. Terry’s foul was harsh—Lin Fei stumbled backward and fell. The ball hit the backboard with a loud smack, bounced off the rim, and dropped in.

The three-point play stunned many spectators. Lin Fei, lying on the floor, was exhilarated, awaiting his teammates to help him up. A three-and-one from beyond half court! Astonishing! Few players in the league could achieve such a feat.

His teammates helped him up. Terry was dumbfounded, then began a tirade, tearing off the white headband and throwing it to the ground. Lin Fei remained unfazed, preparing for the free throw.

The referee signaled another technical foul—likely for Terry’s incessant complaining.

The technical free throw was good, and so was the subsequent bonus. Lin Fei had just completed a five-point play—truly spectacular.

Before the second quarter ended, the Warriors had already built a 20-point lead.

Nelson called a timeout! The Warriors were in surprisingly good form, yet called a timeout. Perhaps the lead was so commanding that he didn’t want his starters to lose their touch.

“Do you want to get back in?” Nelson asked Lin Fei.

“Yes!” Lin Fei’s excitement was evident, though he spoke with calm resolve. “There’s one more thing I need to say to that guy.”

Nelson nodded and allowed Lin Fei to remain on the court.

In a fury, Terry drove to the basket and scored, salvaging a bit of pride.

Lin Fei received the ball. Terry, embarrassed, still mustered the courage to defend him.

“Oh!” Lin Fei dribbled with one hand, a sly smile playing on his lips as he squinted and said to Terry, “You just got played!”

Terry panted, staring coldly at Lin Fei, suppressing his anger. His face flushed with frustration.

With his teammates helping relieve pressure, Lin Fei faced defense near midcourt, passed to a teammate, then executed a classic give-and-go with the same player. Lin Fei caught the ball at the three-point line, swiftly drove to the basket, and scored with ease, completely ignoring the Mavericks’ defense.

When a team’s offense reaches its pinnacle, it treats any defense as if it were nothing.

The Warriors had achieved that.

By halftime, the Warriors led by 27 points. Lin Fei scored 18 in the second quarter alone, shooting 3-for-6 from three—a performance utterly unstoppable.

To rack up 32 points in a half during such intense playoff competition—what more could be said?