Jokić and Green stood on opposite sides of the scorer's table, waiting to check in.
Jokić had just turned 20 this year—an age when you simply can't hide anything. Right now, he looked around the arena like a curious kid. When his eyes happened to meet Green's, he even waved enthusiastically to greet him.
That caught Green completely off guard. As another second-round pick, he was stunned by the gesture.
After a brief exchange of eye contact, Green quickly turned away.
Why is that chubby kid waving at me?
Is this some kind of mind game from their team?
Doesn't look like it… that gaze just now was way too innocent!
Green, on full alert, snapped his eyes away from Jokić and refused to look again.
Leaving Jokić standing there, baffled.
What's wrong with this guy? Why'd he just ignore me?
Before Jokić could figure it out, the Kings' pass was deflected out of bounds by the Warriors. Dead ball, substitutions!
Jokić and Green entered the court together, each replacing their teammates.
Green took a deep breath, suddenly feeling like Jokić had grown another size just by standing across from him.
As one of the league's most famous undersized centers, Green had faced all sorts of big men. But a pure heavyweight like Jokić? That was rare.
And despite carrying all that bulk, Jokić didn't seem to use his body much to force contact.
Against an opponent like that, Green honestly had no idea what to do.
But his concern quickly disappeared.
Once Green checked in and the Warriors' small-ball lineup settled into place, Curry and Thompson began raining down points from beyond the arc.
All fear comes from a lack of firepower.
And Curry plus Thompson were the league's one-of-a-kind backcourt duo—the very best.
Especially now that Curry had developed his deep three-point range, the pressure on defenders was overwhelming.
Even though the Kings fought to contest every shot, the Splash Brothers kept draining those impossible threes, steadily chipping away at Sacramento's confidence.
"How are they this unstoppable?"
CJ leaned on his knees, bent over and gasping for air.
Beside him, Jimmy Butler stayed silent, lips pressed tight, but the sweat pouring down his face showed he was working just as hard.
"Last game didn't feel this wild."
CJ straightened up with effort, speaking in confusion.
"They just didn't take us seriously last time," Butler said with a wry smile.
"They figured they could mess around and still beat us, which let them walk right into our trap.
By the time they realized what was happening, they didn't have the energy left to claw back the score."
He wiped the sweat from his face.
"This right here is the Warriors' real strength. They're finally treating us like a threat."
As he spoke, a strange fire lit up in Butler's eyes.
"So this is what a champion looks like? Damn, I want to drag them down! Hahahaha!"
"Oh no, here we go again!"
CJ covered his forehead in despair the moment he saw Butler's state.
"The Ball Maniac is back!"
As his teammate, CJ knew exactly what this meant.
Haunted by childhood trauma, Butler often had extreme, obsessive thoughts. The underdog mentality was etched deep into his mind.
So whenever he came across those golden boys, those so-called dynasties, he'd light up. All he wanted was to knock them off their throne.
And who knew if Butler's twisted obsession would ever change.
CJ sighed to himself, then dove back into the grueling pace of the game.
But anyone who watched basketball back then knew: this was peak Splash Brothers. Once they got going, no one could stop them.
Watching Thompson hit yet another three over a defender, Coach Malone finally couldn't sit still.
He believed he'd pushed his roster's tactics to the limit. But against the Splash Brothers in rhythm, all that work didn't mean much.
"Smack!"
Just as Malone sank into doubt, Butler suddenly lunged like a wild dog, hand flashing out.
Curry never expected him to gamble like that in a moment like this.
Caught completely off guard—
the ball was slapped away, flying out of bounds.
But in the same instant, Butler dove full stretch, his body nearly parallel to the floor.
Snatching the ball with all his might, he twisted his head just enough to spot a teammate and hurled it back inbounds.
"Boom!"
Butler crashed hard under the scorer's table.
CJ caught the ball and had no time to check on him. The moment the pass left Butler's hands, CJ was already sprinting.
Dribbling hard, he bolted toward the frontcourt.
Curry realized the Kings were running a fast break and gave chase step for step.
But he was a moment too late. CJ rose for an uncontested layup and scored two.
"You alright?"
Rudy Gay jogged over to Butler.
"Ahh, damn."
Butler grimaced as he rolled over. "Nothing serious, just hit the floor hard."
"Hahaha, good to hear!"
Relieved, Gay pulled Butler up and patted the dust off his back.
"That play lit us up—it completely broke their offensive rhythm."
The Kings had been dragged into the Warriors' small-ball tempo, but Butler's play instantly shattered the pace the Warriors had worked so hard to control.
"They've been running wild for half the game already," Butler muttered, rolling his neck.
"Now it's our turn to push back."
Just then, two unexpected figures stepped up to the scorer's table, ready to check in.
"Jae Crowder? Otto Porter?"
Steve Kerr looked over in confusion. Why were those two coming in?
And when he saw CJ and Booker being subbed out, his mind exploded with realization.
Had the Kings actually built that theoretical lineup?
As modern basketball evolved, the traditional five positions blurred more and more.
Back in Miami, legendary coach Pat Riley once predicted: "The ultimate form of basketball is five 6'9" players on the floor."
Most believed that prophecy would eventually come true, though the game hadn't reached that stage yet.
But now, the Kings' five-man unit on the floor was: Jimmy Butler, Jae Crowder, Rudy Gay, Thaddeus Young, Otto Porter!
Five forwards, each over two meters tall, stood firm on the court.