During the timeout, the two teams showed completely opposite mental states.
On the Warriors' side, gloom hung in the air. Steve Kerr's once neatly combed hair was now a mess from his frantic tugging.
"This shouldn't be happening. Where did we go wrong?"
Kerr stared at the playboard, racking his brain but finding no answer.
Other teams had tried copying the Warriors' lineup before, but every attempt was a pale imitation—never a real threat.
But this time was different. Out of nowhere, the Kings unveiled a nearly identical lineup. It was obvious their chemistry was lacking and the unit still needed plenty of work, but that didn't matter anymore.
What mattered was the message the Kings had just sent: Your Warriors' technical barrier has been broken. If you think you can keep bullying people with the Death Lineup, you'd better think again.
And of all places, that message appeared in the Western Conference Finals.
For the Warriors' morale, it was devastating.
"It's no big deal, guys!"
Kerr forced himself to sound upbeat. "So they copied our playbook? I just watched it carefully—they've only scratched the surface. Stick to our rhythm. We can win this!"
As Kerr gave his empty pep talk, Curry suddenly looked up.
"Coach, that switch-heavy defense they just ran… I couldn't get the ball out. What should I do?"
Kerr paused for a moment.
"They're using that tactic to cut off our cross-court passing. Fine—then let's give them the lateral court!"
He quickly drew on the whiteboard.
"Curry, you hold the ball here. Green, set a screen and pop out! As soon as they switch, Curry, target Thaddeus Young for isolation!"
"When Green pops, Barnes and Iguodala stay ready to cut off-ball. Once they take their center off the floor, we'll attack the paint!"
...
Meanwhile, the Kings' bench was relaxed. Malone even had the mood to joke around.
"See? What did I tell you?" he said with a grin from his seat. "Those Warriors aren't so scary after all!"
"Coach, that's not what you said yesterday," the team's streetballer Ben suddenly chimed in. "Yesterday you told Allen what to do if we couldn't—mmmph!"
Before he could finish, Otto Porter clamped a hand over his mouth and dragged him away.
"You trying to get yourself killed talking like that?"
Luckily, Malone was in such high spirits he didn't bother with Ben's slip.
"Thaddeus, you move to the four. Rudy, take a break."
Both players broke into smiles. Thaddeus Young was relieved—playing center had been torture for him. Rudy Gay was just happy to sit again.
Life was sweet: sipping coffee, playing games, and somehow ending up in the Western Conference Finals.
Gay's stats had dipped further this season, down to about 15 points per game. But Malone knew that with his reduced workload, Gay's body was in better shape than last year. If the team really needed him, he could still put up 20 or 30 points in a night without a problem.
"Nikola, you're at center. We'll run everything through Nikola!"
Malone's pen flew across the board.
"Josh, you handle the ball. Start with a wall screen to mess up their defense. Then Nikola, catch it at the free-throw line and make the secondary play."
Finishing his diagram, Malone pointed his pen at Jokić.
"I know that head of yours is full of ideas. Don't keep them to yourself—use them all!"
"Show them what a modern small-ball center really looks like!"
Jokić nodded firmly. "Don't worry, Coach! I won't let you down!"
He threw an arm around Josh Richardson's shoulder. "Come on, Josh. Let's go torch them!"
"No way!" Richardson looked horrified. "I'm just a second-round pick! Don't drag me into this!"
"Quit whining!" Jokić grinned with rare bravado. "Like I'm not a second-rounder too!"
...
"Another change?"
Kerr froze as he watched Jokić stroll onto the court.
What was Malone doing—experimenting with lineup combinations?
But soon, Kerr understood. That small-ball switch lineup had caught the Warriors off guard, but anyone could see it wasn't a unit the Kings had actually practiced. Their coordination was sloppy at times.
A surprise lineup like that might land a punch, but expecting it to finish off the Warriors? That was underestimating Golden State's resilience.
In the end, it would still come down to the centers.
A faint smirk crept onto Kerr's face.
"If that's how it is, I've got nothing to fear."
He shot a look at Curry.
Curry glanced at Kerr, then at Jokić, and nodded knowingly.
Sure enough, on the Warriors' first possession, Curry used a pick to create a one-on-one against Jokić.
Facing the league's deadliest perimeter scorer, Jokić braced himself.
Curry dribbled outside, changing directions again and again to pull Jokić around. Then, with a quick spin, he blew right past him, driving to the free-throw line.
The paint was wide open. Curry slowed slightly, waiting for Jokić to recover. At the rim, he gave a quick pump fake to send the big man flying, then leaned into Jokić's massive frame and scored with ease.
"Beep!"
The referee's whistle sounded just as the ball left his hands.
"Hahaha!"
Curry fell to the floor, laughing up at Jokić.
"Gotcha!"
Hearing Curry's harmless taunt, Jokić chuckled and reached down to pull him up.
"Don't panic," Butler's voice came from behind him. "Let him go one-on-one. After the way he burned energy in the first half, how many more plays can he run? Just let him in—don't jump."
"Got it," Jokić rumbled. He headed to the line, waiting for Curry's free throws.
Curry calmly knocked them down, and possession swung back to the Kings.
Richardson dribbled carefully across half court, nerves tight. Butler and Booker ran a wall screen, leaving Barnes to guard Richardson.
Richardson drew a breath and tried a crossover, but the North Carolina Blackfalcon's footwork was sharp. Barnes instantly read the move, cutting him off.
"Josh!"
At that moment, Jokić had already stepped up to the top of the key, feigning a pick. Draymond Green, shadowing him, moved up quickly to switch.
But as soon as he took that step, Green realized something was wrong.
"No!" he shouted in desperation. "It's not a real screen—it's a fake!"
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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