Bab 66: Chapter 66: Two to Zero
"That kind of officiating is only going to lead to a brawl! Is that what you want?" Andrew shouted from the sidelines, glaring at the referee. His voice carried a sharp edge, as the heat of the game had pushed him to the limit.
The referee merely glanced at him before turning away, uninterested in further engagement.
Just as the situation seemed to simmer down, Boozer elbowed McGrady viciously on a drive to the basket, aiming straight for his head. But McGrady wasn't going to take it quietly like Battier had earlier. He immediately shoved Boozer, sending him crashing to the ground. The moment froze, and then chaos erupted—players from both teams rushed in, and a full-on confrontation was seconds away.
Luckily, the referees managed to separate the players before things escalated further. Andrew's frustration only grew. "Is this what you want?! This is what your calls have led to!" he yelled, his voice filled with barely-contained rage. If McGrady got injured now, all his meticulous planning would have been for nothing.
The referee, trying to maintain control, nodded. "I hear you, calm down, coach."
With the players finally pulled apart, the referees retreated to the scorer's table to review the footage. The tension in the arena was palpable. When they returned with their decision, Boozer was hit with a second-level flagrant foul and ejected from the game.
The Jazz bench exploded in anger, especially their coach, Jerry Sloan, who roared at the referees, his face flushed with frustration. Meanwhile, Andrew, standing tall in the midst of the madness, was clapping his hands, the crowd erupting in thunderous applause behind him.
Boozer's foul could have gone either way—a borderline call between a first-level and a second-level flagrant—but Andrew's pressure had paid off. The ejection wasn't just about Boozer; it was a warning to the entire Jazz team not to try anything dirty again.
Sloan continued to protest, but the call was final. Boozer, now draped in a towel, left the court amid a chorus of boos from more than 10,000 hostile fans. What had started as a promising game for him had turned into a nightmare—an ejection in the biggest game of the playoffs.
The Rockets took full advantage, sinking two free throws. With Boozer gone, their offense flowed even more freely. Yao Ming, as calm as ever, sank both shots effortlessly. The Rockets maintained possession, and with Boozer's absence, the Jazz defense crumbled.
The game resumed, but the Jazz players were visibly rattled. The once-tense matchup had turned into a clinic as the Rockets took control, slicing through the Jazz defense like a hot knife through butter. Without their enforcer, the Jazz's physicality vanished.
By the time Battier returned to the floor, patched up and ready, the game was all but over. The halftime buzzer sounded with the Rockets leading by an insurmountable margin.
Brin, the veteran commentator, couldn't believe what he was witnessing. "What an unbelievable game! The Rockets are playing like true championship contenders. The Jazz look completely outclassed."
Jackson, his co-commentator, nodded. "Yeah, and Boozer's ejection just gave the Jazz a ready-made excuse for the loss."
The Rockets wrapped up the game with a dominant 118-87 victory, drawing first blood in the series. Yao Ming had done his work in just three quarters, scoring 21 points, grabbing 8 rebounds, and dishing out 5 assists. McGrady, as explosive as ever, drained four three-pointers on his way to 24 points.
But it was Millsap who stole the show, scoring a team-high 29 points and proving why the Rockets had been right to bet on him. The second-round pick had arrived in style, sending a message to the rest of the league.
The media was abuzz after the game. TNT, who had been bullish on the Rockets before the series, doubled down, showering them with praise. "When you've got Yao Ming and McGrady—two of the league's top five stars—plus a bunch of deadly three-point shooters, and a head coach like Andrew who's young but terrifyingly brilliant... how can you not be a contender?"
With the momentum on their side, the Rockets stormed into Game 2, winning convincingly 110-90, and taking a commanding 2-0 lead in the series. As Brin aptly put it during the broadcast, "With or without Boozer, the Jazz are no match for the Rockets. The gap is just too wide."
Houston fans were riding a wave of optimism. After a rocky second half of the season, they had been worried about the team's form heading into the playoffs. But now, with two emphatic wins under their belt, those fears seemed far behind them.
Meanwhile, out west, the Golden State Warriors shocked the Mavericks, tying their series at 1-1. The result sent shockwaves through the league, especially among fans betting on Dallas. For the Rockets, it was a blessing. If the Warriors could pull off the upset and knock out the Mavericks, Houston's path to the Western Conference Finals would be far easier.
The word "championship" was beginning to echo around Houston, whispered in bars and shouted in homes.
Training Day
Back at practice, Andrew and Thibodeau were going over the game plan for the next matchup. As they walked toward the gym, they heard something unusual—shouting, laughter.
"Championship! We're the champs!"
Andrew raised an eyebrow. "What the hell is going on in there?"
Inside the gym, the players were clearly in high spirits. Yao Ming, Shane Battier, and Juwan Howard were putting in work on the court, but most of the team was lounging around, chatting and laughing. Alston and Bonzi Wells were mock-fighting over a basketball, pretending it was the championship trophy.
Not one of them even noticed when Andrew and Thibodeau entered.
Andrew's face darkened. This wasn't just a relaxed atmosphere—it was complacency.
Thibodeau shot him a worried look. "They're getting too comfortable."
Andrew's expression hardened. "Call them over."
Thibodeau shouted for the team to gather, and slowly, they assembled around their head coach, their smiles fading as they saw the serious look on his face.
"Where are McGrady and Millsap?" Andrew asked, his voice cold.
"They said they'd be a little late," Novak offered sheepishly.
Andrew's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say another word. The room was silent now, tension hanging in the air.
"Two wins, and you think we've already won the championship?" Andrew's voice cut through the silence like a blade.
The players shifted uncomfortably, glancing at each other. They had rarely seen Andrew this upset.
"If it were that easy, every team would have a trophy. Should the NBA just hand out rings to every team that wins two games?" His sarcasm was biting, and the players' faces fell.
Alston chuckled nervously, but Andrew shot him a look so icy that he immediately clammed up.
"Do you know how many teams in NBA history have blown a 3-0 series lead?" Andrew asked, his tone serious.
The players looked around, unsure of the answer.
"None," Andrew said, his voice rising. "Not one."
A few players chuckled, but Andrew wasn't done. "But do you know how many teams have blown a 2-0 lead?"
The silence was deafening.
"12," Andrew said, his voice low but filled with intensity. "Do you want to be number 13?"
The room was deadly silent now.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone