Chapter 68: Home of the Devil

Salt Lake City, the capital of Utah, got its name from its proximity to the Great Salt Lake. Over a hundred years ago, thousands of Mormon pioneers settled here, and today it's grown into the third-largest city in the United States.

Known for its rich mineral deposits and beautiful tourist spots, what really makes Salt Lake City infamous is its altitude. Nestled in a valley at 1,320 meters above sea level, even mild exercise can leave you breathless in this city, which makes the home court of the Utah Jazz—a place notorious for its hostile environment—even more formidable.

The Energy Solutions Arena, located in the heart of the city, is affectionately called the "Devil's Home" by fans. It's an arena that's seen blood, sweat, and a whole lot of tears. Now, Andrew and the Rockets would face that challenge head-on.

Even though the Jazz were down 0-2 in the series, the players still exuded confidence, bolstered by their infamous home-court advantage. Their star point guard, Deron Williams, was quoted as saying in a pre-game interview, "We've got a 90% home win rate this season. We've been down before and came back, so yeah, we're confident."

Carlos Boozer, the powerhouse forward, upped the ante with his cocky remarks. "We're about to kick their ass. Bet on it." His words were a declaration of war, aimed squarely at the Rockets.

The next night, the Energy Solutions Arena was packed. Over 18,000 Jazz fans had filled every seat, and the atmosphere was electric. Salt Lake City is a religious stronghold, with nearly half of the population belonging to the Mormon faith, which made the fanbase fiercely loyal and united.

When Andrew led the Rockets out of the tunnel, he could feel the oppressive energy immediately. The arena, with its steep seating and near-vertical architecture, felt like a cauldron of tension. It was as if the crowd's energy pressed down on them, leaving little room to breathe.

This was a place designed to intimidate, and as the home players were introduced, the cheers hit like a tidal wave, shaking the very air. The noise was so intense it felt like it could split eardrums, and it seemed to charge the Jazz players, who were feeding off the frenzy of their fans.

"Oh my god, this is insane!" Mike Brin, the game's commentator, shouted over the deafening roars. Even he, a seasoned veteran of NBA arenas, was stunned. "This is Salt Lake City—the devil's playground," Reggie Miller added from the sideline, knowing firsthand the difficulty of playing in this hostile environment.

As Andrew sat, watching his players absorb the atmosphere, he remained unnervingly calm. This wasn't his first rodeo, and he wasn't about to let his team see him flinch. His face, stoic and composed, was the perfect counterbalance to the chaos that surrounded them.

The game tipped off with Yao Ming losing the jump ball to Boozer, giving the Jazz possession. The crowd exploded again as the Jazz immediately launched into their first offensive set, Boozer working a pick-and-roll with Okur. With Yao switching onto Millsap, Boozer exploited the mismatch, turning around for a mid-range jumper that dropped smoothly through the net.

The roar of approval from the crowd was deafening.

The Rockets pushed back, with Blake bringing the ball up and feeding Yao in the post. But the Jazz had adjusted. Kirilenko was glued to McGrady, denying him any space to breathe, let alone receive the ball. Blake launched a three-pointer from the corner, but it clanged off the rim, and Okur grabbed the rebound.

The Jazz stormed up the court, with Deron Williams slicing through the Rockets' defense. He dished the ball to Boozer, who finished with a layup, igniting the crowd once again. The scoreboard now read 4-0, and the Jazz seemed to be riding the momentum of their raucous home crowd.

Sitting courtside, Thibodeau's brow furrowed in frustration. The noise, the relentless pressure—it was clear this game was not going to be like the last two. He glanced at Andrew, wondering what he was thinking. But Andrew, ever the picture of composure, gave nothing away. He was watching, calculating.

As the Jazz continued their assault, Andrew's mind was already spinning. He knew what was coming—the relentless pressure, the altitude that sapped energy faster than anywhere else, and the crowd that made it feel like the walls were closing in. But he wasn't worried. His calm demeanor was infectious; even when the Jazz stretched their lead to 7-0 after a Deron Williams three-pointer, Andrew remained unshaken.

"Come on! The Jazz!" the crowd chanted, their voices blending into a wave of noise that seemed to press down on the court like an avalanche.

At the free throw line, Millsap felt the full weight of that pressure as he missed both of his shots. The crowd was relentless, and the Rockets looked momentarily rattled. But Andrew had prepared his team for this. He had told them what to expect, and though the arena was shaking with noise, he trusted that his players wouldn't crumble.

Yao Ming grabbed the rebound off Millsap's second miss and threw it back to Blake, who set up the offense once more. But even as they tried to push through, it was clear that the Jazz had woken up, and they were out for blood.

The cheers were louder than ever, but Andrew was unmoved. He knew that to win here, in the devil's home, they would need more than skill. They would need grit, and Andrew was about to make sure his team dug deep for it.

This was the Jazz's home court advantage at its finest, but Andrew was ready to show them that the Rockets had come to play.