294: 126: It’s over, there won’t be the Miami Heat number anymore (asking for monthly tickets!
)_2 294: 126: It’s over, there won’t be the Miami Heat number anymore (asking for monthly tickets!
)_2 The game was a grind to the end between the Heat and the Magic.
After entering the game, Roger immediately narrowed the gap with a back-to-the-basket move, signalling the start of his scoring spree in the second quarter.
In the last 8 minutes of the quarter, Roger scored a whopping 15 points in one breath!
And just like before, with every basket he made, Roger would roar towards the bench.
Does it feel like I just dunked your head in the basket?”
“Or should I switch to my left hand?
I’m not unreasonable, you know.
Kneel and beg me, and I might offer you some respect and forgiveness.”
“Yes, Pat, yes, this is a miniature of your miserable life!
No matter where you go, no matter who you team up with, you will be defeated by me over and over again until one day you give up basketball!”
Roger scored again and again, repeatedly firing at Riley.
Because the Heat only double-teamed Roger when he entered the paint, his scoring was effortless.
Mourning didn’t interject any longer, Roger’s lesson made him profoundly understand the principle that children shouldn’t interrupt when adults are talking.
With 28 points at halftime, Roger led the team to a 7-point lead into the second half.
The entire American Airlines Center fell into a silence as deathly as they had never witnessed such terrifying individual firepower.
The Heat fans and the team owner Micky Arison were very nervous, fearful even.
Their hearts were truly united at this moment.
Considering Roger’s unbelievable form in the first half, they now had a terrifying thought: if, just if, Roger’s hot streak continued into the second half, what would the game turn into?
It would be best if that didn’t happen!
Everyone in the American Airlines Center was tense, except for Riley, who might have been the calmest person in the entire arena right now.
After the first half was over, facing Roger’s 28-point performance, he stood up expressionlessly, ready to return to the locker room.
NBC’s Hannah interviewed Riley once again: “Do you have any regrets?
Roger doesn’t seem too happy, and he’s already scored 28 points tonight.”
Riley responded with indifference, “So what?
Are you suggesting I regret provoking him?
No, he hasn’t won the game yet.
Wait until the end of the game, and you won’t ask me this kind of question anymore.”
Riley’s composure wasn’t feigned; he thought it was normal for Roger to have a hot hand in the first half, as no top player runs out of steam that early.
But what about the third and fourth quarters?
In the player’s tunnel, Riley adjusted the Rolex on his wrist and then straightened his tie.
He couldn’t tolerate any imperfection in his public appearance.
Elegance was a must, elegant even when trailing by 7 points.
NBA had become the art of televised broadcast, and Riley knew he was a part of that broadcast, his every move under the public scrutiny.
Therefore, Riley had to maintain a perfect image in public, because in his view, a perfect image represented his dignity in public.
He was a man desperately craving dignity because throughout his basketball career before becoming the coach of the Lakers, he was always a minor character with no dignity.
He was a college star yet became the sad foil to the all-black starting lineup legend of Texas Western College.
He played in the NBA, won championships, and set a record for 33 consecutive wins, but only as a background actor to stars like Jerry West.
After retirement, he humbly returned to the Lakers for a broadcasting job, still at the bottom, still just a sidekick.
Before the age of 37, his entire basketball career was unrelated to the word “dignity.”
Until one day, when Magic Johnson and the entire locker room led a mutiny that ousted coach Paul Westhead, bringing about a complete change in Riley’s life.
A whimsical twist of fate had Riley almost overnight placed upon a throne.
At last, he began to taste what it felt like to be respected.
Past experiences made him vow never to let his dignity be trampled on again.
So he loved the media, loved his perfect image in front of the media, loved the screams, admiration, and fear from people.
All these satisfied his desperate heart for dignity.
He worked hard to shed the undignified shadows of his life before age 37, and the perfect and elegant image in front of the camera was an epitome of his dignity, which he valued immensely.
If his perfect image in front of the camera were tarnished, it would be tantamount to trampling on his dignity, equivalent to kneeling in front of the camera.
At this moment, a sweat-soaked Stan Van Gundy dashed up to Riley, panting for breath.
To Riley, the disheveled and sweaty Stan Van Gundy looked undignified, just like a stray dog kicked out by its owner, which Riley found distasteful.
“Damn it, is there a plane about to crash into the American Airlines Arena?
Why are you in such a mess!?” Riley cursed his useless assistant.
Riley was impressed with the Van Gundy brothers.
In the Knicks, Jeff Van Gundy was already balding early with no charm or image to speak of.
In Orlando, Stan Van Gundy was shabby, not elegant at all!
“Pat, are we really not going to double-team Roger!?” Stan Van Gundy asked anxiously.
“You ran all the way here, sweating buckets, just to ask this?
Damn it, shut up, Stan!
You look like a pathetic little dog that’s been kicked out of its home by its owner.
I’m ashamed to stand with you!
Why should we double-team?
Our tactics haven’t yet played out!”