Sports Medicine Master System

Chapter 243 - 192: Better Not to Talk

Ewing’s voice wasn’t quiet.

Hardaway, who was about to get back on defense, froze in place. The surrounding Mavericks players also stopped in their tracks, instinctively turning to look at the two of them.

’Are they fighting?’

But the game wasn’t over, and no one had time to dwell on it. Nowitzki quickly inbounded the ball, and Finley took off running.

Hardaway frowned and quickly gave chase.

"Scott, should we call a timeout?" On the sidelines, Jim Boylan asked nervously.

He’d been so loud, there was no way they hadn’t heard him.

Having a conflict in the final moments of the game was tantamount to shooting themselves in the foot.

Skiles’s expression was deadly serious, but he didn’t rush to answer. He just stared intently at Ewing and Hardaway on the court.

"Chen, did I hear that right? Did Patrick just yell at Anfernee?" In the back row, a stunned Old Nelson turned to ask Chen Yu, who was sitting beside him.

Chen Yu had heard it too.

After all, Ewing had yelled so loudly it would have been hard not to.

Chen Yu couldn’t help but stand up, his gaze locked on Ewing.

On an emotional level, Chen Yu understood Ewing.

He was just too desperate for a championship.

This season, whether it was opening his heart in their confidential chats or just in casual conversation, the thing Ewing talked about most was always the championship.

He talked about losing to Jordan four times in five years. Then, just when Jordan finally retired, he ran into Olajuwon in his prime. When the Rockets’ dynasty finally ended, he thought his chance had come, only for that man to announce, "I’m back," making him wait another three agonizing years.

Ewing told Chen Yu he’d dreamed more than once of hoisting the O’Brien Champion Trophy, only to wake up and see an empty spot on his trophy shelf.

He built a trophy shelf in his bedroom for all his awards, but he left the most prominent spot open for a Championship Ring.

He’d built that shelf nine years ago, back in ’94, the first time he made it to the Finals. At the time, he was so sure he would finally achieve his dream and win his first championship trophy.

Then he lost to Olajuwon.

For the eight years since, that spot has remained empty.

But looking at the situation now, Chen Yu felt Ewing was being too hasty. There was nothing wrong with craving victory and pursuing a championship. However, that pursuit wasn’t a one-man mission. When the team ran into trouble and faced adversity, he should be trusting his teammates, not pointing fingers.

’I should have a talk with Ewing after the game.’

’Still, the guy’s a real fighter.’

On the court, Ewing was bodying up Nowitzki, not giving an inch and denying him any chance to even turn for a shot.

Nowitzki stopped his dribble. He glanced toward the perimeter, then let out a grunt as he created some space with his body and whipped the ball out.

Nash used a screen from Lafrentz to get open, caught the pass, and pulled up for the shot.

Nash had been cold all game, bricking shots all night, but in this crucial moment, he found his rhythm and sank the three-pointer.

The lead was back down to three.

The Mavericks’ bench erupted. Old Nelson pumped his fist, roaring with excitement.

Nash had been playing so poorly, but Old Nelson never subbed him out, precisely because he believed Nash could help the team in a crucial moment.

Skiles no longer hesitated and gestured for a timeout.

The Mavericks were mounting a ferocious comeback; he needed everyone to calm down.

Just then, the referee’s whistle blew.

Chen Yu, who had just sat down, shot to his feet.

Under the opposite basket, it looked like Ewing and Nowitzki were arguing.

The referee rushed over, and nearby players also quickly pulled the two apart.

It wasn’t clear what had happened.

But it didn’t look too serious. They were separated immediately, and the referee just gave them both a verbal warning.

They had probably just exchanged a few heated words.

Olajuwon pulled Ewing over to a chair. He plopped down, grabbed a sports drink, and started chugging it. His dark face was taut, and he didn’t say a word.

Hardaway was also quiet, sitting with a grim expression on his face.

Skiles looked at his players, a massive headache brewing.

"Everyone, patience." He clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention, then said, "We’re still ahead. The ones who should be anxious right now are the Mavericks, not us. Just stick to our game plan, and we can win this game."

It was hard to tell what effect his words had.

But what else could Skiles say? He waved a hand, and Frank Johnson immediately stepped forward with a clipboard to go over the next play.

Chen Yu squeezed into the crowd and patted Hardaway’s shoulder.

He was more worried about Hardaway’s mindset than Ewing’s.

Hardaway turned, saw it was Chen Yu, and cracked a small smile. He didn’t say anything, just gave him a look that said, ’I get it.’

The sixty-second timeout passed in a flash, and the players returned to the court.

Sensing a chance for a comeback, the Mavericks ratcheted up their defensive intensity. Hardaway had the ball, and Finley was on him like glue, giving him no room to drive.

Hardaway scanned the court with his peripheral vision.

Hardaway didn’t see any good opportunities.

After a moment’s hesitation, Hardaway decided to take it himself.

’Chen Yu told me my wrist is fine,’ he thought. ’I just haven’t played in over a week. My shot is just rusty.’

With a hard pound dribble, Hardaway exploded into motion. There was no fancy footwork—just pure, unadulterated speed.

After all, it was one of the most elite first steps in the entire league.

Finley was completely focused, but he still got beaten by half a step. He slid over to recover, only for Hardaway to stop on a dime and pull the ball back.

Finley instinctively yanked his body back, reaching out to contest the shot.

But Hardaway hesitated for just a split second before exploding forward again with a crossover, blowing past him once more.

This time, he left Finley completely in the dust.

Finley felt like cursing. ’Are you serious? You already had me beat on the first move!’

He stopped on a dime and pulled up for the jumper.

Under the basket, the paint had turned into a meat grinder.

Ewing stretched his long arms, completely boxing Nowitzki out behind him.

Nowitzki, neck straining, pushed and pulled at Ewing, desperately trying to jockey for a better position.

SWISH! Nothing but net.

It’s good!

Ewing snorted inwardly. ’Damn it, he finally made one.’

Feeling an arm pressing down on him, Ewing impatiently flung his own arm back. ’That bastard actually grinned at me. Was he mocking me?’

His elbow made solid contact, and a pained cry rang out at the same time.

Ewing turned his head, a blank look on his face, only to see Nowitzki clutching his own face in pain. Blood was already seeping through his fingers.

TWEET TWEET TWEET!

The referee rushed over.

The players from both sides once again crowded together.

Skiles felt his vision swim. So much for that calming timeout.

Chen Yu stood up, his gaze piercing through the crowd. The Mavericks’ team doctor was already on the court. Nowitzki lowered his hands, revealing a nose that was gushing blood.

’Looks like he got hit in the nose.’

Ewing shook off Olajuwon and chased after the lead official, Foster, desperately trying to explain that it wasn’t intentional.

Foster, his face a stony mask, ignored him completely and walked straight to the scorer’s table to review the replay.

"Fuck! I told you, it wasn’t on purpose!" Ewing yelled in frustration as J Kidd wrapped his arms around his waist and dragged him back.

The Jumbotron hanging overhead began to show the replay.

Chen Yu looked up.

The replay was crystal clear. While jostling for position, Nowitzki’s arm got tangled with Ewing’s. As Ewing turned, he swung his elbow backward, catching Nowitzki right in the face.

"It wasn’t intentional, was it?" Old Nelson muttered with a frown.

Chen Yu glanced toward Foster. ’Ewing could argue it was an instinctive motion, just a bit exaggerated,’ he thought, ’but looking at the replay, the move was definitely unnecessary.’

It all depended on how Foster would call it.

The three referees conferred briefly. Then, Foster turned to the scorer’s table and, without a moment’s hesitation, pointed toward the locker room.

Ejected!

Ewing, who had just been pulled back to the bench, instantly shot up, ready to charge back and argue.

Everyone hurriedly held him back.

Chen Yu also squeezed to the front. "That’s enough, Patrick."

Ewing’s face was a mask of fury. He looked at Chen Yu, then at the others holding him back. He shook them off, turned, and stalked toward the locker room.

"I’ll go check on him." Chen Yu nodded to Skiles and quickly followed.

As soon as he got back to the locker room, Chen Yu heard a loud BANG.

It was Ewing, who had angrily kicked over a trash can.

When he saw Chen Yu come in, Ewing anxiously explained, "Chen, you have to believe me. I really didn’t do it on purpose."

Chen Yu frowned and didn’t answer. He walked over, righted the trash can, then found the remote, turned on the locker room TV, and flipped to NBC.

The game was just restarting.

Nowitzki hadn’t been taken out. After having his nose quickly treated and stuffed with two cotton plugs, he went back on the court to shoot his free throws, streaks of blood still visible on his face.

He made both free throws.

With their star player injured but returning to the game still bleeding, the Mavericks’ morale soared, and they played with renewed aggression.

However, Ewing’s ejection didn’t seem to faze the Phoenix Suns. Olajuwon moved to the five, and Skiles subbed in Teylon Hill, needing his defense in these final moments.

The Suns’ defense was solid—at least, it was a damn sight better than the Mavericks’.

It was a crucial possession, and the Suns got the stop, preventing the Mavericks from closing the gap.

The Suns’ ball.

It was Hardaway again, and he seemed more decisive. He ran the shot clock down, waiting until the final seconds before making his move. He drove into the paint, then at the last second, dished the ball to a wide-open Olajuwon.

Olajuwon calmly sank a short hook shot.

The basket was crucial. With just over a minute left to play, the lead was now five points, and the scales of victory tipped back in the Suns’ favor.

At some point, Ewing had come to stand beside Chen Yu. He was also staring intently at the TV screen. "Chen," he asked nervously, "do you think we’re going to win?"

He was filled with regret.

If the Suns lost because of his ejection, he would never forgive himself.

Chen Yu turned his head to look at Ewing, then looked away and said nothing.

Chen Yu’s silence made Ewing frown. He bit his lip and said, "Chen, I know, you must be thinking I was too impulsive. Maybe I was, but I just want to win. You should understand that."

He turned to look at Chen Yu, his eyes pleading for understanding.

This time, Chen Yu didn’t even turn his head. He kept his arms crossed, his eyes glued to the TV screen.

This cold shoulder made Ewing feel even worse. He scrubbed a hand over his face, returned to his seat, and sullenly pulled off his jersey without another word.

At that moment, the locker room door opened, and Brian walked in.

He glanced at Chen Yu, then at Ewing. His eyes landed on the dented trash can, and he frowned slightly. He walked over and asked in a low voice, "How did the talk go?"

Chen Yu said without turning his head, "We didn’t talk about anything."

Brian looked at Chen Yu, confused. ’If you weren’t going to talk, then why did you follow him back here?’

"Not talking is better than talking," Chen Yu said in a low voice, glancing at Ewing.

Brian didn’t understand and rolled his eyes at Chen Yu. "Can’t you say something I can understand?"

Chen Yu smiled and didn’t explain.

’Just like Skiles said, the Suns are in the lead. As long as they stay patient, winning this game won’t be a problem.’

’Hardaway might be bricking his shots tonight, but he isn’t sleepwalking out there. He’s playing defense, he’s driving and dishing, he’s working hard to help the team.’

With 37 seconds left, Hardaway and Olajuwon trapped Nowitzki, stripping the ball from him.

The turnover was a backbreaker, completely crushing the Mavericks’ hopes for a comeback.

Ewing, who was sulking with his head down, heard the announcer’s voice on TV. He subconsciously looked up, only to find Chen Yu standing in front of him.

"We won."

Chen Yu smiled and patted Ewing’s shoulder.

Ewing stared fixedly at Chen Yu, speechless for a long moment.