Chapter 201: Allegiance.
Russell Westbrook and LeBron James both realized Han Sen's words were meant to sow discord between them.
But as with the mind games Han pulled on Chris Paul last season, knowing it's a trap and being able to avoid it are two different things.
James couldn't back down; doing so would imply the Thunder was Westbrook's team.
Westbrook, on the other hand, couldn't afford to step aside. The management already favored James, and showing no fight would only hasten his own trade out of OKC.
The two stars found themselves caught in a standoff.
Sensing trouble, Thunder head coach Scott Brooks quickly called a timeout.
Only two minutes into the new season, and internal strife was already brewing—an ominous start for Brooks, whose job was now very much on the line.
Meanwhile, the Grizzlies' fans were loving the drama, egging on the tension with loud jeers and cheers.
As analyst Stan Van Gundy had pointed out, the Thunder weren't short on talent.
But their performance hinged entirely on whether their two ball-dominant stars could figure out how to coexist. Judging by the early signs, things weren't looking good.
...
During the timeout, players like Robert Sacre and Shaun Livingston stole glances at Han Sen. His antics earlier had left a deep impression on them.
The NBA loves to build legends—players who feel larger than life. Jordan's status as the 'god of basketball,' Kobe's relentless 'Mamba Mentality,' and LeBron's air of grandeur are examples of the league cultivating 'divinity' around its stars.
Han Sen, however, was the antithesis of that.
His clapping and trash talk earlier? You'd never picture Jordan, Kobe, or LeBron doing something so... human.
And that humanity might just be the reason why an eccentric Grizzlies squad was so fiercely united under a still-young Han Sen.
"Gods inspire awe," Livingston thought. "But humans... humans bring people together."
Han Sen caught them staring but didn't think much of it. His attention instead was drawn to the rolling ads on the courtside scoreboard.
"Adi-Wang…"
The knockoff Chinese brand's ad left Han momentarily speechless. He even owned a pair of those shoes in his past life.
"Winning a championship really does make sponsors come crawling," he mused.
...
The game resumed. Westbrook initiated a pick-and-roll, while James was stationed in the corner—a surprising concession from LeBron.
"Did Brooks hypnotize him or something?" Han wondered.
Westbrook took the screen, pulled up for a mid-range jumper, and nailed it.
On the next possession, Zach Randolph faced a double team in the post and kicked the ball out to Marc Gasol, who faked a pass to force the defense back before calmly sinking a mid-range jumper.
The Grizzlies were sharp early on, showcasing why they were the reigning champs.
At the other end, Han found himself matched up with James and took the opportunity to needle him.
"Man, how far you've fallen. Second fiddle to Russ now?"
Han Sen's trash talk hit like a sledgehammer, but LeBron James remained unfazed.
It was clear—after their infamous Finals showdown, where Han's verbal jabs left LeBron exposed like an open wound, LeBron had developed a mental filter for Han's words.
Back on the court, the ball stayed in Westbrook's hands as he ran another pick-and-roll with Brook Lopez. This time, Conley tried to fight over the screen, but Lopez's pick held firm.
Westbrook, with a slick pump fake, got Marc Gasol to bite and drove hard into the paint, absorbing contact from Randolph before finishing the play.
The crowd watched as Westbrook erupted in celebration, arms swaying side-to-side in his signature 'rock-a-baby' move.
Classic Westbrook—when he played with confidence, he wasn't just a force; he was an outright spectacle.
When his confidence wavered, he seemed hesitant, almost like a liability. But now? Now, he was locked in, and his energy was infectious.
The Thunder's defense ramped up, with Serge Ibaka swatting away Gasol's attempt inside and corralling the rebound.
In a flash, two Thunder players streaked downcourt. Han stepped up to stop Westbrook, only for Russ to launch a pinpoint pass to LeBron ahead of the break.
LeBron's fast-break slam tied the game at 8.
The Thunder's mini-run had completely erased the Grizzlies' lead.
Han shot Westbrook a sidelong glance, reassessing the man.
In the future Han knew, Westbrook and LeBron had teamed up in L.A., a bizarre pairing of clashing styles—like plugging two power cords into each other. Total short-circuit.
But this Westbrook wasn't that Westbrook. He wasn't chasing stats yet; he was chasing wins. And honestly, even without LeBron, this Thunder squad could still compete with Westbrook leading the charge.
Han knew his mind games had run their course. It was time to drop the psychological warfare and start dismantling the Thunder on the hardwood.
After Zach Randolph's post-up play was stifled by the Thunder's help defense, Han called for the ball from Arron Afflalo.
The FedExForum erupted. Everyone in the building knew what time it was.
Afflalo was glued to Han, shading him toward Ibaka's side—a textbook defensive strategy to funnel Han into the Thunder's defensive trap.
But with the shot clock winding down, Han played into their hands on purpose. Using Afflalo's positioning, Han exploded past him, forcing Ibaka to step up at the edge of the paint.
Ibaka waited, ensuring Han couldn't pass into the congested paint. Afflalo, meanwhile, sealed off Han's retreat for a step-back. The Thunder's defensive wall looked impenetrable.
That's when Han made his move. He slammed the ball hard into the court—THWACK!—and used the rebound's momentum to spin off Ibaka in a blur, creating just enough separation for a high-arcing fadeaway.
Swish.
The crowd's roar was deafening.
Ibaka stood frozen, disbelief plastered across his face. Around him, the Thunder players looked equally stunned. For a moment, it was as if they'd seen a ghost.
No, not just any ghost. It was as if Michael Jordan's shadow had flashed before them—except not quite. Han's jump wasn't as explosive, but his fluidity and grace felt eerily reminiscent of Kobe Bryant.
But here's the kicker: Han hadn't even used this move last season. A summer—an abbreviated summer—and he'd turned one of the toughest scoring techniques into a weapon of his own.
"That man learns faster than anyone," one analyst muttered. "NCAA, NBA—it doesn't matter. Han Sen keeps redefining himself every year."
Westbrook came back strong on the next play, breaking down the Grizzlies' defense and kicking it out to LeBron, who nailed his first three-pointer as a member of the Thunder.
The Thunder took the lead. Westbrook and LeBron shared a powerful high-five on their way back to defense, showing some real chemistry.
But as the Grizzlies inbounded, their fans began chanting, "Whoop that trick!" Their passion re-ignited as Mike Conley once again sought out Han.
Han's next play was a masterpiece of footwork. He leapt to catch Conley's pass mid-air, resetting his pivot foot by landing on both feet simultaneously—a subtle, technical move straight out of a textbook.
With a half-spin and a shoulder fake, Han sold the idea of another fadeaway. Afflalo bit hard, lunging forward, but Han spun back to the rim, leaving him in the dust.
Ibaka scrambled to contest, but as he closed in, Han slipped a perfect bounce pass to Randolph for a thunderous two-handed slam.
The arena exploded.
On the other end, LeBron's face twisted into a mix of awe and frustration.
The footwork? He recognized it all too well—it was eerily similar to Olajuwon's 'Dream Shake.' Except Han wasn't just mimicking; he was perfecting.
"Damn," LeBron muttered, watching Randolph hang off the rim. I worked my ass off to master that, and this dude just casually pulls it out like it's nothing.
Han smirked, locking eyes with LeBron as he jogged back on defense. "Hey Bron, hope you're taking notes, man. Free clinic tonight."
...
11-12.
The Grizzlies reclaim the lead!
This time, it's not just the fans getting hyped—the Grizzlies' defensive intensity is surging as well.
Westbrook drives to the basket again but is denied by Marc Gasol.
On the offensive end, Conley dishes the ball to Han Sen once more.
At this point, the Thunder players on the court are in a bind. If they don't double-team Han Sen, he scores. But if they do, he kicks it out for an assist. Of course, no one's more stressed than Afflalo.
As a top-tier defender, you know he studied Han Sen's game tape before the match.
But the tape didn't show Han Sen pulling off such a smooth turnaround fadeaway.
It's giving him more of a headache than guarding Kobe ever did. Sure, Han's arsenal might not be as diverse as Kobe's, but the dude's bigger.
Han doesn't let him overthink it, though. He drives to the right.
But unlike earlier, Han stops short after a single step and pulls up for a jump shot.
It's clear he's feeling himself—just letting it fly.
Ibaka showcases elite help defense and manages to contest the shot.
Han's fadeaway grazes the front rim and bounces out.
But with Ibaka leaving his man to help, the Thunder's rim protection takes a hit.
Lopez battles valiantly but can't outmuscle the Grizzlies' twin towers, as Marc Gasol grabs the offensive board and gets fouled on his putback attempt.
It looks like a shooting foul, but the refs signal otherwise—no free throws.
The crowd erupts in boos. Camera crews scan the arena for David Stern, only to realize he dipped right after the ring ceremony.
But let's be real—this was expected.
The Grizzlies embarrassed Stern during last season's Finals, leaving him in a tight spot. They weren't getting favorable calls this year, that's for sure.
Not blatant biased officiating, but subtle favoritism? Absolutely.
Grizzlies inbound the ball. Han Sen catches it and waves everyone off.
Sure, bad calls are expected, but pulling this on ring night? That's disrespectful.
The team clears out, leaving Han Sen to isolate against Afflalo.
A couple of dribble hesitations later, Han explodes left.
His first step is lightning-quick, but Afflalo is agile enough to stay in front of him.
That's when Han plants his foot, resets his pivot, and spins into a fadeaway jumper.
Even the nimble Afflalo can't keep up with that move.
Despite his desperate leap, all he accomplishes is becoming part of Han Sen's highlight reel.
The crowd gasps in awe.
This move is straight out of Kobe's playbook, but when Han executes it, it looks almost effortless.
What remains consistent is the sheer elegance of the shot.
Swish!
The ball arcs gracefully over Afflalo's outstretched hand, hitting nothing but net.
FedExForum erupts in cheers.
Some fans are so ecstatic they're red in the face.
"Your fadeaway doesn't need alcohol, but it's got me drunk like a dog!"
On the sidelines, Sacre leaps up, twirling his towel like a propeller.
Since Han started taking over, he's 3-for-4, all on difficult fadeaways.
This guy might not look like your typical 'good guy,' but damn, he's good.
By the time the first quarter hits the 9-minute mark, the Grizzlies are up 23-18.
Both teams begin subbing in their bench players.
Han Sen finishes the first quarter shooting 6-for-8, tallying 14 points, and heads to the bench for a breather.
As soon as Han sits down, Sacre hands him a towel and water bottle.
Han looks at the rookie, who seems older than he is, and nods approvingly. 'Kid might not play much, but he's already racking up triple-doubles on the bench.'
Han motions for Sacre to sit next to him, striking up a conversation.
"Alright, let's talk. First lesson: how to watch a game like a predator."
...
At that moment, the lineups on the court were:
Thunder: Fisher, Afflalo, Sefolosha, LeBron, Nick Collison
Grizzlies: Conley, Dahntay Jones, Gay, Jamison, Faried
The first possession saw LeBron post up Jamison and score easily.
With age catching up to him, Jamison's already shaky defense had become a non-factor.
However, Jamison still had his offensive rhythm. On the other end, he caught the ball in the post, turned around, and hit a fadeaway jumper over Sefolosha.
Wait, why was Sefolosha defending him?
LeBron was guarding Jones instead.
From the sidelines, Joerger quickly adjusted, putting Gay back on LeBron.
But LeBron called for a screen from Sefolosha, barreled past Jamison, and slammed home his signature tomahawk dunk over a rotating Jones.
At this point, the reason Brooks could convince LeBron became clear.
In Durant's time, Westbrook always led the second unit during staggered minutes.
In other words, this used to be Westbrook's playground. Now, it belonged to LeBron.
It made sense—scoring in staggered minutes was much easier than in crunch-time, high-stakes moments.
After the poster dunk, LeBron celebrated with a flex for the cameras.
On the next possession, he capitalized again, blocking Jones' layup attempt with a volleyball-style swat.
The Grizzlies, running out of time on the shot clock, moved the ball to Jamison on the perimeter. With Gay's drive collapsing the defense, Jamison drilled a three over a closing Afflalo.
The Thunder's lineup, with one big and four smalls, gave Jamison plenty of space to operate since LeBron wasn't directly matched up with him.
22–28.
The score didn't change much, as both teams engaged in an almost playful back-and-forth exchange.
On defense, the Grizzlies adjusted again, putting Jones on LeBron.
This time, though, it wasn't Joerger's call—it was Jones volunteering.
Jones' rotation spot was shaky. Having just been posterized and blocked, he wanted to salvage some pride.
Seeing Jones guarding him, LeBron immediately went to the post, calling for the ball.
Sure, Jones was a defensive specialist, but as a guard, he was giving up over 20 kilograms to LeBron.
This kind of mismatch was a gift, and LeBron wasn't going to decline it.
Yet, as he began to post up, things weren't as easy as he'd imagined.
Jones couldn't physically match him but compensated with plenty of sneaky tricks.
Jones had never been known for clean defense. He was the anti-Conley—so dirty even Phil Jackson had complained about him in the past.
Irritated by Jones' antics, LeBron turned and threw an elbow into Jones' chest.
It was a hard shot, but the refs didn't whistle it.
Taking advantage, LeBron barreled past Jones, charging toward the rim. Faried rotated over to contest, but LeBron absorbed the contact mid-air.
It was a smart move—after noticing the refs were letting him play, LeBron used it to his advantage.
Indeed, the whistle blew. Faried was called for a shooting foul, giving LeBron two free throws.
LeBron grinned, but his smile didn't last long.
As he landed, he felt something underfoot.
Caught off guard, even with his athleticism, LeBron rolled his ankle at a brutal 90-degree angle and fell to the floor.
Players from both teams immediately squared up, but the refs stepped in quickly to diffuse the situation.
Han Sen, still chatting with Sacre, had no idea what had just happened. Sacre, a natural conversationalist, had kept the exchange going non-stop.
The shrill whistle on the court drew Han Sen's attention. He turned to see LeBron lying on the ground, clutching his ankle in visible pain.
The Thunder's medical staff rushed to the court.
"What just happened?"
Han Sen looked up at the LED screen, which was showing the replay:
Jones' sneaky move, LeBron's elbow, and… Jones' foot sliding under LeBron's landing spot.
"Damn, nice work!"
Han Sen couldn't help but exclaim.
The scene was eerily reminiscent of last season's Finals, except this time LeBron was the victim instead of the perpetrator.
Looking at Jones, Han Sen even felt the guy looked more handsome now.
Let's be honest, taking down LeBron with a dirty play is no easy feat. LeBron, known for dishing out such antics himself, is always on high alert.
But against Jones, even the 'king' slipped up.
Villains need villains to deal with them. Karma, baby.
Unlike Han Sen, who powered through an ankle injury in last season's Finals, LeBron didn't try to play hero here.
With his added bulk, the injury was harder to shake off, and it was just a regular-season game.
Still, his durability was impressive—he didn't need a wheelchair and walked off with the team doctor, albeit limping heavily.
As he left the court through the tunnel, LeBron's frustration was evident. He slapped over a chair in anger.
Jones followed shortly after, ejected with a flagrant 2 for the dangerous play.
LeBron's exit shifted the game's balance. His staggered-minute dominance had been pivotal.
Brooks was forced to bring Westbrook in early.
And to his credit, Westbrook delivered, keeping the Thunder competitive. At halftime, they were only down single digits to the Grizzlies.
Westbrook had 20 points and 4 assists on 8-of-14 shooting—a remarkably efficient performance.
Durant's departure might have been a blessing in disguise for Westbrook, accelerating his evolution.
However, Joerger adjusted at halftime, devising a new strategy to limit Westbrook.
In the third quarter, the Grizzlies blew the game open with a 28–15 run, turning the fourth quarter into garbage time.
Unfortunately, Sacre wasn't active for the game, so fans missed out on his sideline antics.
At the post-game press conference, Han Sen appeared alongside Randolph.
Randolph had an impressive 18 points and 8 rebounds in three quarters, showing clear improvement over last season.
Han Sen, meanwhile, put up 26 points in three quarters after a 14-point first quarter.
There was no shortage of storylines: the championship ring ceremony, Han Sen's speech, and, of course, LeBron's injury.
"That was just an accident. I haven't known Dahntay for long, but I know he's a hard-working player," Han Sen said with a straight face, blatantly lying.
Even the reporters in the room had to wipe their foreheads.
Everyone knew what kind of player Jones was. Playing dirty has nothing to do with being hard-working, and Han Sen's defense of him was ridiculously over the top.
Not just over the top—blatantly shameless.
"If he gets fined for this, I'll cover it. He just wanted to help the team win."
Why? Because Han Sen felt like it, simple as that.
-End of Chapter-
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