Sports Medicine Master System

Chapter 609: Chapter 535: The Submissive Durant

Meanwhile, far away in Safford, Durant and his Devil’s Mountain team faced their first game since the competition resumed.

They were playing at home against the Lopez Brothers Team.

They were the only team out of the thirty named after its players.

Captain Brook Lopez and his twin brother, Robin Lopez, formed the team’s core.

The lineup was rounded out by their partner, guard Tyler Reed from Burlington High School in Kansas.

The modest-sized gym was packed with spectators.

Durant’s previous poor decision had actually brought the team a great deal of attention. When they heard the competition was resuming, local fans, eager to find out who Durant had ultimately chosen, flocked to the venue.

And the sight of Little Jordan on the court was a great relief to many.

Ultimately, Durant had made the right choice.

"Kevin, you made the right choice!"

Before the game started, quite a few people in the stands were still shouting down to Durant.

Hearing their cries, Durant, who was on the court doing his final warm-ups, suddenly turned pale and missed several shots in a row.

On the sidelines, Presti sighed to himself. ’When this crowd finds out what really happened, are they going to get angry and throw rotten eggs at Durant?’

’Just when the three of them were finally showing signs of making up, just when I thought this whole thing was about to blow over,’ Presti thought, ’I discover there’s still this hurdle waiting for us.’

The game began amidst the cheers of the crowd.

Harden passed the ball, looking for Durant.

This time, however, Durant didn’t attack directly. Instead, after dribbling to draw the defense, he lobbed the ball into the paint.

It was a perfect pass. Near the basket, Little Jordan spun and cut back, leaping into the air to finish with an alley-oop slam dunk.

After landing, Little Jordan let out an excited roar and ran to high-five Harden in celebration.

He completely ignored Durant.

Durant didn’t seem to mind, just lowering his head and getting back on defense.

The Lopez Brothers Team had a very unconventional lineup.

They ran a twin-towers offense, which would have been fine in a five-on-five game.

But this was three-on-three, and Robin Lopez’s slow speed meant he couldn’t keep up with Durant at all.

But he could use his strength, backing down and shoving aside the rail-thin Durant to get under the basket and score with a layup.

Little Jordan had no time to provide help defense.

"Shit, what are you doing? Stop him!" Little Jordan roared at Durant.

Durant nodded quickly. On the next possession, he gritted his teeth and tried to hold his ground against Robin.

But the difference in weight wasn’t so easily overcome. He was still pushed under the basket by Robin, knocked aside in mid-air, and Robin even managed an and-one.

"My bad."

Durant scrambled to his feet and quickly raised his hand, taking responsibility for the foul.

Little Jordan shot him a sidelong glance but said nothing.

On the sidelines, Presti’s brow was deeply furrowed. It wasn’t just Durant’s defense that was the problem now.

The Lopez Brothers Team’s lineup was lopsided. With Robin Lopez’s size and Durant’s slim build, it was normal that he couldn’t defend against him.

The key problem was that Durant had stopped attacking.

He couldn’t guard Robin, but Robin couldn’t keep up with his footwork either. With his speed, Durant could run circles around Robin Lopez.

In fact, relying on his speed, Durant could easily create space for a shot.

But he just wouldn’t take the shot. He passed. He passed to Little Jordan, he passed to Harden.

Nearly five minutes into the game, Durant incredibly hadn’t taken a single shot.

Presti called a timeout, draping an arm over Durant’s shoulder and urging him to start shooting.

They were already behind. If they wanted to win this game, they had to rely on Durant.

Their only advantage lay with Durant.

Durant nodded repeatedly, but when play resumed after the timeout, it was the same old story. He only passed, never attacked.

Even when he was wide open.

Presti was stone-faced, not saying a word.

This situation also emboldened Robin Lopez to collapse the defense and double-team Little Jordan.

Little Jordan, with his rough skills, already had his hands full just dealing with Brook Lopez, let alone a double-team.

Turnovers, bricked shots... the point deficit was widening rapidly.

The Lopez Brothers Team headed into halftime with a 25-11 lead.

"If you’re going to pass, then make good passes! What’s with all these blind throws? Can’t you see I don’t have a good look at the basket?" Little Jordan complained to Durant as they walked off the court.

Durant just muttered, "Oh," and nodded quickly.

Harden, walking beside them, took it all in with a complex expression.

The situation was so strange that even their opponents were confused.

As he slowly walked off the court, Robin couldn’t help but ask his brother, "Brook, what the hell are they doing?"

Before the game, they had been sure they were going to lose.

The lopsided nature of their twin-towers lineup meant they were almost guaranteed to lose against any team with strong forwards.

Their team composition had a massive flaw.

But what could he do? Brook couldn’t just not pick his own brother.

"Haven’t they made up already?" Brook found it strange, too.

’With Durant’s scoring ability, if he’d really unleashed his offense, we would have lost long ago.’

’Since Little Jordan is back on the team, that must mean Durant chose him. The three of them should have reconciled. So how did things suddenly get like this again?’

Thinking about how Little Jordan was brazenly yelling at Durant, while Durant not only didn’t get angry but kept feeding him the ball, even Brook started to feel a little sorry for him.

His cautious behavior made it seem as if he were the one in the wrong.

’Wasn’t Little Jordan the one who started the conflict? And wasn’t it Durant who fought tooth and nail to earn the right to bring someone back, only to choose Little Jordan in the end?’

Brook really couldn’t understand why Durant was being so subservient.

"Collier, what’s wrong with them?"

In a corner of the arena, a few reporters were present, including Collier and her colleague.

With a performance like that from Durant, even a fool could see something was wrong.

Otherwise, how could he go an entire half without a single shot attempt?

He used to be the team’s primary scorer!

Collier’s gaze was fixed on the far end of the court.

Presti had Harden by the arm, instructing him about something.

Little Jordan sat on his chair, stern-faced and silent.

Durant stood there awkwardly, his face mostly expressionless, his melancholic eyes betraying nothing of his thoughts.

Collier had a nagging feeling that something else had happened between Durant and Little Jordan.

The brief halftime break ended, and the game resumed.

And this time, Harden took center stage.

Durant wouldn’t attack, insisting on passing. Presti couldn’t control him, nor could he get through to him.

But the game had to go on.

After much thought, Presti realized his only option was to have Harden take over the offense.

Little Jordan’s skills were too raw; he couldn’t score even when you fed him the ball.

’So, Durant, you feel bad for your teammates and want to pass to them? Fine. Is passing to Little Jordan a pass, but passing to Harden isn’t?’

’Let Harden shoot more. Maybe there’s still a chance to win.’

Presti even told him directly: Harden would run the offense, Little Jordan would focus on rebounding, and Durant would set screens for him.

’So you want to sacrifice yourself for the team, Durant? Here’s your chance.’

When the game started again, Harden did just that.

With a wave of his hand, he motioned for Durant to come over and set a screen.

He knew Little Jordan still hadn’t forgiven Durant, and Durant was so consumed by guilt that he was a complete mess.

But Harden wanted to win. Otherwise, he would have given up completely back in Los Angeles.

As Durant screened Tyler Reed, Harden executed a step-back and pulled up for a three-pointer.

His body involuntarily leaned forward, one leg kicking out.

He didn’t have enough power on his long-range shots.

But it was still accurate. The ball swished through the net.

Seeing Harden take over the offense, the Lopez Brothers immediately shifted their defensive focus.

Robin Lopez started treating Durant like he was invisible.

"What is he doing?"

"I know, right? He’s wide open, why doesn’t he shoot?"

Even the spectators in the stands couldn’t stand to watch Durant’s performance any longer.

Time and again he was wide open, with Robin Lopez leaving him to guard someone else, but he just wouldn’t take the shot.

It was as if he had a grudge against shooting.

"If Harden wasn’t scoring, the deficit would be 30 points by now."

"Huh? How is that a foul again?"

"They called one just before, too. It didn’t look like a foul to me."

On the court, the referee blew his whistle once more.

Tyler Reed looked at the referee in bewilderment, seeking an explanation.

The referee ignored him, impassively directing Harden to the free-throw line. They were in the bonus.

"Don’t get heated. It’s that new rule," Brook said, grabbing Reid before he could argue with the ref.

The "no hand-checking" rule. It was a new regulation the league was about to implement this year. Long before the show began, Chen Yu had announced that the game rules would completely align with the NBA, which included eliminating hand-checking.

And the referees officiating the game were, in fact, NBA refs, so they were calling it by NBA standards.

The last two fouls the referee had called were both for hand-checking.

Reid gritted his teeth and cursed, "But that kid is deliberately leaning into me."

Of course, he knew he was also at fault for extending his arm.

But he’d been playing that way since he was a kid. It was a habit years in the making and not easy to break.

But even though he was at fault, Reid felt Harden was the bigger problem.

The kid was just too crafty. Normal players dribble toward open space; he, on the other hand, dribbled straight at people. It was obvious he was exploiting the new rule to draw fouls.

He looked over at Harden and couldn’t help but curse internally. ’With those big, innocent-looking eyes, you’d think he was harmless. Who knew he was so damn sneaky.’

However, Harden’s little tricks could only do so much.

Besides, the deficit from the first half was too large to overcome.

50-28. The Lopez Brothers routed Devil’s Mountain.

Harden, who came alive in the second half, did manage to score a team-high 16 points, which finally made Presti notice that the chubby kid seemed to have some impressive offensive skills.

But for him, the bigger problem right now was still Durant.

Zero shot attempts for the entire game. Zero points, seven rebounds, five assists. It was unbelievable.

If Durant was going to keep performing like this, they might as well not have resumed the competition and just continued to forfeit their games.

But looking at the stone-faced Little Jordan and the utterly dejected Durant, Presti couldn’t hold back a long sigh.

’The psychological problems of teenagers... not even a god could solve this.’

At the same time, far away in the Greek Athens Olympic Village, after discussions with the Olympic Organizing Committee, Chen Yu’s temporary medical clinic officially hung its shingle in the Olympic Village and opened for business.

It was swamped with patients every day.

And on the 4th, it welcomed a particularly special patient.

Another Michael.

Michael Phelps.

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