Hyenas—carnivorous animals found widely across West Asia and North Africa.
Unlike apex predators such as cheetahs and lions, hyenas thrive in packs. Their cunning and brutal hunting style has made them infamous throughout the animal kingdom.
Right now, Curry felt exactly like prey being stalked by a pack of hyenas.
He bent over, hands on his knees, sweat dripping from his forehead onto the Oracle Arena floor.
From the opening tip, he hadn't had a moment's rest. Both offense and defense had been draining his stamina non-stop.
Normally, Curry wouldn't tire this quickly—but today felt cursed.
That guy, Ben, played like an untiring beast, hounding Thompson endlessly, making the Splash Brothers' connection harder than ever. Thompson didn't have the ability to consistently create off the dribble, and the other reliable scorer, "North Carolina Black Falcon" Harrison Barnes, was locked down by Butler.
In an instant, the entire offensive load landed squarely on Curry's shoulders.
"What the hell is this?!"
Curry dribbled in frustration, staring at CJ McCollum, whose eyes were bloodshot from effort. "Did the Kings all pop something before the game? Not one of them looks tired!"
Malone's so-called "Hyena Tactic" was starting to bite.
The plan was simple: constant switching and suffocating man-to-man defense to break apart the Warriors' lineup, then leaning on isolation defense to sap their stamina.
And this was exactly the kind of scenario the Warriors feared most.
By halftime, Curry was already gasping for air. Shooting depends on stamina—once you're tired, everything slips: release speed, form, even control.
"You sneaky bastard, waiting for me here."
On the sideline, Steve Kerr gritted his teeth as the game edged further out of his control.
"I can't wait any longer. Shaun, take over."
At his call, Shaun Livingston jumped off the bench, peeling off his warmups to check in.
"Andre, get ready too. We might need you before halftime."
Kerr turned to another player.
"Relax, boss. This intensity won't break us," Andre Iguodala—one half of the "Veteran Duo," the veteran pairing off the Warriors' bench—said with an easy smile.
"Don't be so sure." Kerr exhaled, slightly calmer. "They beat the Spurs. Who knows what else they've got? Better to stay cautious."
Meanwhile, Malone's eyes followed Livingston as he walked to the scorer's table. "Thaddeus, you'll sub in for CJ and give him some rest."
This season, the Warriors weren't carried by the Splash Brothers alone. The Veteran Duo off the bench had been just as vital.
During the regular season, plenty of games were handled easily: the Splash Brothers would play their stretch, then the veteran duo would step in, and the wins kept coming.
As one of the league's few guards with a straight-arm jumper, Livingston was deadly in rotation minutes.
"CJ comes out. Butler runs the offense. Thaddeus and Rudy hold the frontcourt."
Malone laid out his plan.
There was no way his smaller guards could handle Livingston. The guy could punish most defenders with just his turnaround jumper.
Switch Butler onto him?
Kerr caught the Kings' shift and gave a cold smile.
Malone was still too green. You used CJ to wear down Curry, so I'll use Livingston to wear down Butler. Let's see who lasts longer.
"You holding up?"
Malone looked at CJ on the bench, concern in his eyes.
CJ looked spent. Even sitting down after that intense stretch was draining, both physically and mentally.
The hand holding his water bottle trembled uncontrollably.
"Take it easy for now." Malone's gaze sharpened. He already knew—CJ wouldn't have the stamina to return before halftime.
"Coach."
Just as Malone was thinking, CJ's voice cut through.
Slowly, he lifted his head. His young face was drenched in sweat.
"Did I finish my job?"
The words hit Malone like a nail to the heart. His nose stung as he fought back emotion.
"You did. You did great. Now it's on us."
Hearing that, CJ managed a weary smile. "Good… then I can finally relax."
When Malone raised his head again, his eyes burned with determination.
"They've been forced to use Livingston—time for Phase Two!"
At his command, the Kings sprang back into motion.
"What now?" Kerr muttered, watching the Kings reshuffle their lineup yet again. He'd just made his adjustments, and within minutes they were forcing him to rethink.
Butler grabbed the offensive reins, hammering away at the Warriors' perimeter defense.
Back then, Butler still carried the infamous label of "Refusal Shooter," with a three-point percentage under 30%. But after joining the Kings this year, Chen Yilun had immediately handed him over to Chip, who built a specialized shooting program just for him.
After months of work, Butler's three-pointer still wasn't a consistent weapon—but it was good enough.
And Chen Yilun knew Butler thrived in big moments. The higher the stakes, the sharper he became.
Sure enough, off a screen, Butler found daylight. Across from him stood Draymond Green.
Assuming Butler had no range, Green eased off instead of closing in.
That was all Butler needed. He rose and released the shot.
The ball arced through the air and dropped cleanly through the net as Green froze in shock.
"You've gotta be kidding me!"
He stood stunned, only to meet Steve Kerr's murderous glare.
"Hey, I swear—I didn't think he could actually shoot!"
Butler's sudden range pulled his defender out to the perimeter, leaving the Warriors' paint exposed.
Even Rudy Gay seemed to find his second wind, slashing inside repeatedly to draw fouls.
"Beep!"
The first half ended in chaos.
It was impossible to say who had the edge—neither team had imposed their style, and the whole half felt oddly disjointed.
Back in the locker room, Steve Kerr finally let his bottled-up fury explode.
"That's it! Andre, you're starting the second half. We're going small-ball!"