Chương 69: Chapter 69: Peak Performance
The Jazz's home court was as daunting as ever, and Andrew knew this game wouldn't be easy. He had anticipated a tough start, but seeing the score at 9-0 within minutes sent a jolt of urgency through the Rockets' bench.
Andrew glanced over at his team, feeling the pressure himself. The Rockets had been performing well offensively and defensively, but the chaotic energy from the crowd and the altitude had gotten to them. Shots that would normally sink smoothly were now clanging off the rim. It wasn't just the Jazz they were fighting, it was the entire atmosphere of Salt Lake City.
Yao Ming, ever the giant on the court, grabbed an offensive rebound, but even his second-chance effort was swallowed by the relentless Jazz defense. Kirilenko seized the opportunity, driving down the court for an easy layup that sent the arena into a frenzy. 9-0.
Andrew stood up and called for a timeout.
"The Rockets are halted in their tracks. Salt Lake City's home advantage is truly formidable," commentator Mike Brin said, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Yes," Reggie Miller added. "This is the kind of hostile environment that bruises you, mentally and physically."
Jazz coach Jerry Sloan, a master of the pick-and-roll, was famous for advocating a rough-and-tumble style of play. His mantra: "The refs can't blow the whistle on every possession." The Jazz thrived on this philosophy, especially at home, where the referees often turned a blind eye to the small, aggressive fouls that rattled opponents.
Andrew looked around at his players, some rubbing sore arms from the constant low-key fouls. The pressure was palpable—both from the Jazz's aggressive style and the deafening noise that surrounded them.
Grabbing the clipboard, Andrew tossed it aside and barked at his team with raw emotion.
"Listen up!" His voice cut through the chaos. "Think about what we've been through to get here. Think about all the sweat, all the hours of preparation. This game? It's nothing compared to that. This place? This noise? Forget it! It's just like practice. Let's go out there, relax, and play like we know how."
His words snapped his players back into focus. Andrew's speech wasn't about strategy; it was about heart. The confusion on the players' faces began to dissolve, replaced by a hardened determination.
"Let's go! Rockets on three!"
With hands stacked together, they roared, "Rockets!"
Brin, watching from the booth, was intrigued. "Andrew's pauses have turned the tide before. Let's see what happens now."
When play resumed, Yao Ming dished the ball to Blake at the top of the arc. Blake fired off a three-pointer, but it clanged off the rim, the hostile crowd roaring with satisfaction.
Boozer, going for the rebound, was outmuscled by a force of nature: Tracy McGrady. T-Mac came out of nowhere, soaring above everyone. Grabbing the ball with one hand, he slammed it home with ferocious authority. Boozer, unable to react in time, stumbled back into the baseline, becoming nothing more than a background figure in McGrady's highlight reel.
The arena fell silent for a split second before erupting in gasps and murmurs.
"Holy... God!" Brin exclaimed. "That's a statement dunk!"
Andrew grinned. This was what he needed—someone to inject fire into the team. McGrady's explosive energy was contagious.
But the Jazz weren't backing down. Deron Williams answered with a spectacular circus layup over Battier, reigniting the crowd.
On the next possession, McGrady wasn't done. Yao set a screen, and McGrady sliced through the defense with a quick cut, receiving the ball and executing a stunning 360-degree spin around Boozer before softly laying it in. The degree of difficulty was insane, and the crowd once again fell into a hush of disbelief.
McGrady was feeling it, and Andrew knew the momentum had shifted. No one in the league, not even Kobe, could touch T-Mac when he entered this kind of zone.
As the Jazz missed their next shot, Yao Ming secured the rebound and quickly passed it to McGrady, who launched a long-range three. The ball swished through the net cleanly.
The crowd, once deafening, was now uneasy. McGrady had scored seven consecutive points, single-handedly turning the game around.
Reggie Miller shook his head in amazement. "When T-Mac heats up like this, it's over for the opponent."
The Jazz attacked again, but this time Deron's drive was blocked by Yao. The Rockets sprinted down the court, Blake tossing a pinpoint pass to McGrady. He dribbled past Fisher, and with a thunderous one-handed dunk, drew the foul.
The whistle blew for a 2+1. McGrady thumped his chest with raw emotion.
Andrew, watching McGrady's dominance unfold, allowed himself a satisfied smirk. This was the McGrady he had been waiting for—the one who could take over any game, no matter the circumstances.
As McGrady sank the free throw, the scoreboard now read 12-9 in favor of the Jazz, but it was clear: the tide had turned.
Andrew's gamble had paid off. He hadn't called for a complex strategy, just heart. And now, with McGrady on fire, the Rockets had all the momentum in their hands.
Chapter 69 – Peak Performance ends, but the battle is just beginning.
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