They Don’t Have 23, But They’ve Got 77.

"F***!" Durant cursed loudly.

How could there be someone so infuriating as Han Sen in this world? Even more annoying than those haters he faced on social media! 

Brooks' earlier reminder was completely tossed aside; right now, all Durant wanted was to tear Han apart. 

Just like he'd done countless times last summer.

That last play was just an accident, and he refused to believe he couldn't handle Han Sen.

He signaled for the ball, then waved for isolation.

Brooks could only watch in resignation. Still, it was Kevin Durant, after all, and there wasn't much else he could do but trust in his superstar.

This time, Durant was more cautious with his offense—smart, but not reckless.

He tried to draw Han into a steal with his dribble, hoping to create an opening, but Han didn't bite.

Maybe their battles last summer taught Han how to read whether Durant was actually attacking or just faking.

Failing to fool Han, Durant made a quick move to his left. Han followed, both racing toward the free-throw line.

Durant stopped on a dime and pulled up for a jumper. But because he was wary of Han's quick hands, his motion was a bit slower.

As he jumped, he realized Han had already beaten him off the ground!

Durant wasn't Kobe; he didn't have that mid-air body control to adjust his shot. He could only lean back and release early.

But he underestimated Han's bounce.

Or more accurately, he was judging him based on last summer. This was a different Han now—a Han with the talent for dunking.

Smack!

To everyone's shock, Han blocked Durant head-on!

Durant—Kevin Durant—got blocked!

Sure, there was a bit of anticipation involved, but Han's athleticism was on full display. Not only did he block it, but Han also controlled the ball in the air. 

Upon landing, he crossed over Durant with a swift move. Durant chased hard, but Han, carrying the ball, was faster. 

They raced down the court, one after the other.

Han, with every ounce of strength left, soared up and delivered a two-handed, reverse dunk, slamming the ball through the hoop.

Durant's desperate block attempt only skimmed over Han's head. 

The entire Ford Center erupted into chaos.

That play was a major momentum killer.

Han felt drained when he landed, his legs weak and his body empty.

Yet his spirit had never been more exhilarated. At that moment, as he dunked, it felt like he'd overcome a towering peak.

That mountain still loomed large, but it was now behind him.

102-100. The Grizzlies had a crucial 2-point lead with a minute left on the clock. 

The arena fell into a tense silence. 

It was Game 7, down to the wire, and the Thunder had held the lead for most of the game before being overtaken. Fans could barely breathe. 

"OKC! OKC!" 

The crowd's chants persisted, but this time, you could hear a tremor in their voices.

Han had achieved his goal—he'd put fear into the hearts of Oklahoma City's fans.

Durant demanded the ball in the post again, refusing to back down. 

But this time, Han opted to front him.

Despite the brilliance of his previous defensive play, it wasn't realistic to expect he'd stop Durant every time.

The best move now was to deny him the ball altogether. 

Durant tried to spin around, but Han wouldn't let him. The off-ball battle was intense.

Finally, the ref blew the whistle—Han got called for a foul.

In reality, both players were doing the same thing, but this was the Thunder's home court, and Durant was the star.

The fans collectively exhaled in relief.

Hollins argued heatedly with the ref, but the call stood.

"Oh, so you're just like LeBron—needing the refs to survive in this league," Han mocked, throwing Durant a contemptuous glance.

"Shut up!" Durant shot back angrily. "Don't compare me to that guy!"

For the players, LeBron's Decision had done more damage among them than with fans. But with Nike backing him, most players were silent, just like those who'd been on the Cavs.

Durant, however, was a rare exception.

"Then prove it and miss the free throw!" Han taunted, his face full of disdain.

If Han wasn't someone from the future, he might've actually believed Durant was more righteous than LeBron.

Durant grunted. 

Of course, he wasn't going to miss intentionally; only an idiot would fall for that kind of trash talk.

Yet he missed his first free throw.

Han had successfully messed with his head.

Durant shook his head and shoulders vigorously before sinking the second shot.

40 seconds left, Grizzlies still up by 1.

The arena exploded again with deafening defense chants. 

If the Thunder could just get this stop, the win would still be within their grasp.

Conley calmly crossed half-court, waiting out the clock—a familiar sight from Game 3. But this time, with 10 seconds left, he handed the ball off to Han.

Durant was guarding him.

Despite being a league superstar, Durant was only in his fourth NBA season. He was still young and full of fire.

Han had stopped him, and Durant wanted to return the favor.

On the court, there were ten players.

In the stands, twenty thousand fans.

But in this moment, it was as if everyone else disappeared, leaving just these two.

They were back on that Memphis training court last summer.

Just the two of them—one play to decide it all.

Han held the ball in one hand, faked three times, then drove to his right.

Durant's footwork wasn't as quick, but his focus kept him in front of Han. 

Han couldn't drive to the rim.

But he didn't need to. After two steps, he stopped and pulled up for a mid-range jumper. 

Mid-range was his strongest weapon now, and more importantly, he was out of energy to attack the basket.

Durant halted himself as well, jumping nearly at the same moment as Han.

It was almost a mirror of Han's earlier block on Durant, but with Durant's longer wingspan adding to his defensive pressure.

Han saw Durant's determined expression—Durant's raw talent made even a quick release unlikely to get past him.

The crowd's cheers erupted; Durant had stopped Han!

But those cheers turned into gasps.

They saw Kobe—no, they saw Han—adjust in mid-air, evading Durant's outstretched arm with an incredible, acrobatic shot!

Thanks to his newly enhanced core strength, even Swift was intimidated by it. And core strength was the key to executing such high-difficulty moves.

From there, all that was left was Han's delicate touch.

The ball sailed past Durant.

Eyes wide, Durant turned to see the ball arc through the air.

Swish!

The clean sound of the net snapping was like the hammer of a judge.

Destiny? Just another stepping stone on the path to legend.

104-101! 

20 seconds left, and the Grizzlies now had a 3-point lead.

Brooks called a timeout.

"Oh my God!" Barkley was losing it.

It wasn't just Han's impossible shot—it was the string of plays in the clutch.

Or maybe, it was his entire fourth quarter. Han had played the whole period without a break!

The LED screen flashed Han's stats for the night: 14-for-27 shooting, 3-for-9 from three, 11-of-12 free throws, 42 points, 5 rebounds, 4 assists, 3 turnovers, 3 steals, 1 block, and 4 fouls—a new career-high for playoff scoring.

This performance was on par with Durant's.

Barkley recalled what Stephen A. Smith had said and couldn't help laughing out loud:

"Memphis doesn't have #23, but they've got #77!"

"Achoo!"

Han sneezed on the bench, interrupting Hollins' strategy discussion.

Han signaled for him to continue.

Hollins' defensive tactics were on point—he emphasized limiting Durant's touches.

Compared to the Grizzlies' final possession, this was easier to defend, as OKC's only reliable shooter from beyond the arc was Durant.

Sefolosha had been decent this series, but he wasn't Shane Battier, the kind of player who could nail a clutch three.

As for Westbrook, trusting him is about as reliable as believing I'm the first Emperor of China.

In Game 1, when the Grizzlies were up by 5 points and almost had the game in the bag, this was exactly why.

Coming out of the timeout, the Thunder ran a clear play for Durant. Down by 3, Brooks didn't have much room for creativity.

The Grizzlies' defense made it tough for Durant to receive the ball.

With a 5-second inbound limit approaching, Westbrook had to pass to Ibaka and then move to get the ball back himself.

20 seconds was plenty of time—if Durant didn't get the ball the first time, they could try again.

But then, an irritating voice rang out on the court:

"Leave him open! He's got no three-point range!"

Han had pulled a low-level move.

Just like earlier, when he pressured Durant at the line.

Conley nodded and left Westbrook a full meter of space.

At that moment, Westbrook's inner turmoil mirrored Durant's earlier. 

But unlike Durant, who had self-control, he was all fire and adrenaline.

When he saw Durant still couldn't break free, Westbrook turned and took the shot!

"Don't shoot! Russell, don't shoot!" Brooks yelled out, but it was too late.

The ball soared straight toward the hoop.

Clang!

It hit the front rim and bounced out!

Randolph secured the defensive rebound.

Ibaka had no choice but to foul Randolph on the spot, sending him to the free-throw line.

There were only 9 seconds left in the game.

Brooks' face showed a hint of despair.

The light in Durant's eyes had completely faded.

Still, he walked over to Westbrook and pulled his head into his chest to console him.

Despite the high expectations from the outside, this was only their second trip to the playoffs.

Randolph began his free throws.

OKC fans, with their already hoarse voices, frantically tried to distract him.

Randolph sank both shots.

Here's an interesting fact: the last time Randolph was in the playoffs was in the 2002-03 season, when his free-throw percentage in the regular season was 75%, but it shot up to 89% in the playoffs.

This season, he had the same 75% regular-season average, but up until now in the playoffs, it was 88%.

Clearly, he wasn't just padding stats. He just needed the big stage.

With Randolph hitting both free throws, the game was essentially over.

OKC fans finally deflated like a punctured ball.

Despite having home court, the momentum, and even Durant putting up a career-high performance, they still lost this game!

The Grizzlies' bench had already started celebrating.

Han Sen was greeted like a hero.

"There are still 9 seconds left. Remember Miller scored 8 points in 9 seconds," Han Sen remained calm.

Coach Joerger discreetly gave Han Sen a thumbs-up.

After the timeout, the final 9 seconds played out without any change in the score. Durant's deep three-pointer missed the rim, and Marc Gasol secured the rebound and held it high. The Thunder didn't bother to foul.

The Grizzlies finally began their wild celebration.

Han Sen was in the center, shouting and cheering.

Even though he was already exhausted, it was like a surge of endless energy hit him, and he raised his right hand, shouting in triumph.

The path to advancing was tougher than expected, but in the end, they still won!

And just like he said before the game, this win marked their transformation.

After the Grizzlies' brief celebration, the two teams met for the postgame handshake.

Westbrook skipped Han Sen during the handshake.

Han was momentarily stunned, then just shook his head with a smile.

Those two on the Thunder were probably the most genuine personalities in the NBA.

"Training together this summer?" Han Sen smiled and asked Durant during their handshake.

That earned him an eye roll from Durant.

Didn't look like that training was going to happen.

"I'm sorry…"

Han Sen tried to say more, but Durant quickly slipped away.

What a shame.

He wanted to apologize for making Durant miss out on his celebratory bathwater since Scarlett had said he just needed to win the 2011 championship.

He could only shake his head in resignation.

But he had other plans for this summer anyway.

Because unless something unexpected happened, the NBA lockout was coming.

In the post-game press conference, Han Sen and Randolph attended together.

In this game, besides Han Sen, Randolph's performance was just as crucial to the Grizzlies' win.

Looking at the raw numbers alone, Han Sen and Durant essentially canceled each other out, while Randolph's 22 points, 15 rebounds, and 5 assists were on another level compared to Westbrook's 16 points, 5 rebounds, and 9 assists.

"Han is the strongest teammate I've ever had since joining the NBA, man. He's absolutely the strongest. All I gotta do is stand there and watch him score," Randolph laughed while adjusting his headband, happy as a kid.

Here's the question: Why do LeBron's teammates always seem to turn against him in the end, but Kobe's teammates rarely did?

Because ball control and shot selection are two different concepts.

If you had to choose between barely touching the ball all game and only getting shots off when you do, or getting the ball in your hands with fewer chances to shoot, which would feel more comfortable?

The answer is obvious. Most role players are aware that their job is to give the ball to the strongest guy on the team to finish, but the key is making sure they feel involved, not just responsible.

One of the goals of basketball tactics is to get more players involved on the court to keep them engaged.

Even though Randolph didn't score as much as Han Sen, many of the Grizzlies' plays started through him, giving him just as much involvement as Han Sen.

"Not trying to hype it up, but I don't think Zach's that far off from TD. He should be in the discussion for the top three power forwards in the league, and he's absolutely a thousand percent underrated," Han Sen said, generously praising Randolph when asked about his performance.

"Speaking of TD, your next opponent is the Spurs. Any thoughts?" a reporter pressed Han Sen.

"That's the matchup I've been wanting the most," Han Sen said with a determined look in his eyes.