Playing with Anger.

On the sidelines, Robert Sacre waved a towel enthusiastically, while Coach Joerger clapped his hands in approval.

Though Shane Battier's defensive IQ remained top-tier, his slower footwork made navigating screens increasingly difficult. Vince Carter, though no spring chicken himself, excelled in this area. His strategy was simple but effective: funnel opponents toward the paint, giving Han Sen enough time to rotate and contest.

Han's first block of the night came precisely from such a help defense play against Kendrick Perkins.

On the Heat's bench, Coach Erik Spoelstra rubbed his forehead in frustration. Even after actively avoiding Han on offense, Joerger kept forcing the Heat to confront him.

The Heat's sideline inbounds play resumed, but a quick pick-and-roll led to a contested mid-range shot from Wade that clanged off the rim. With their offensive spacing effectively halved, Miami's efficiency cratered. By the 10-minute mark in the first quarter, the score was 23–12 in favor of Memphis.

Miami's Big Three, hailed as an offensive juggernaut, found themselves flustered, scoring fewer than 20 points in a quarter.

When Han finally subbed out, he grabbed the towel Sacre handed him, wiping away the sweat dripping from his forehead. For the first time, he truly appreciated the unseen stamina that fueled Michael Jordan's greatness. Dominating on both ends of the floor was exhausting.

Luckily, the Grizzlies thrived in half-court sets; a faster-paced game would have drained him entirely. But in the two minutes Han was on the bench, Miami surged with a 6–0 run behind Chris Bosh, cutting the lead to five.

Forced to return at the start of the second quarter, Han immediately steadied the ship, helping Memphis head into halftime with a 50–38 lead. The toll on his energy was palpable, but the result shocked everyone.

Even analysts like Stan Van Gundy, who had expected Memphis to crumble under the league's new defensive rules, were floored. Instead of regressing, the Grizzlies had put on a defensive clinic.

Social media buzzed during halftime:

"38 points in a half for the Heat's Big Three? Is this real life?"

"KD worked on his playmaking this summer? Irrelevant against Han's help defense."

"Watching Han makes me nostalgic for '90s Bulls games. The man's a defensive monster."

"When your leader hustles like this on defense, how can the rest of the team not follow?"

...

Coming out of halftime, Spoelstra made adjustments. He replaced Chalmers with Ray Allen.

This move wasn't just familiar—it was calculated. The Grizzlies' lack of bench depth meant they could no longer dominate with their usual all-out defensive style.

Allen's presence added firepower and gave Durant room to utilize his improved playmaking. The adjustment worked: Miami's offense gained rhythm, chipping away at Memphis's lead. By the end of the third, the Heat trailed by only six, 74–68.

Han's defensive brilliance was undeniable, but basketball is a 48-minute game, and his energy was not limitless. Meanwhile, the Grizzlies' struggles to maintain their usual dominance became increasingly apparent.

Joerger kept Han on the bench to start the fourth quarter, but just three minutes in, he was forced to call a timeout.

The Heat had surged, tying the game, and the FedExForum was buzzing with unease.

Fans marveled at Han's evolution but couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the rest of the team. How had the Grizzlies fallen so far in just one offseason?

"This is the challenge of the third year," Shaquille O'Neal remarked on the broadcast.

Barkley, uncharacteristically silent, listened intently.

"It's like marrying the woman of your dreams," Shaq continued. "Year one, you're insatiable. Year two, you're trying new things. But by year three? She feels like any other woman."

Shaq then addressed another issue.

"Han keeps improving every year, which makes him hard to counter. But the rest of the Grizzlies? They've been figured out."

The Grizzlies' players hadn't regressed drastically, but opposing teams had studied them thoroughly. Without constant evolution, maintaining their previous dominance was nearly impossible.

Joerger brought his starters back in earlier than planned, while Spoelstra countered by reintroducing the Heat's starting lineup. Both teams shifted into crunch-time mode.

Initially, Han kept the Grizzlies competitive with his individual brilliance, but as the game wore on, his fatigue became evident. The Heat smelled blood, closing out strong for a 101–93 victory—the first time Han's Grizzlies had lost a season opener.

Han's stat line: 43 points, 7 rebounds, 6 assists, 5 steals, and 5 blocks—a masterpiece in vain.

...

After the customary postgame handshakes, Han skipped the sideline interview, heading straight to the locker room. The room went silent when he entered, his expression grave.

"This is what you wanted? To let a team we beat for the title come into our house and embarrass us on banner night?" Han's piercing gaze swept across his teammates, forcing them to look away.

Rudy Gay, recovering from an injury, shifted in his seat, about to speak, but Shane Battier subtly pulled him back.

"Tomorrow, everyone arrives an hour early for practice," Han continued. "If you're not there, tell Chris (Rondo) you're ready to leave this team. We only want people willing to give everything for a win."

Team staff Damon interrupted the tense moment, reminding Han of his scheduled press conference.

After Han left, Rudy muttered, "Isn't he overreacting? It's one game, and it's the Heat."

Battier responded coldly, "Aren't the Heat exactly who we need to beat?"

...

Press Conference

Sitting alongside Joerger, Han faced the media.

"You became the 12th player in NBA history to record a 5x5 and the first ever with a 40+5+5+5+5 stat line. How did you achieve that?" asked a TNT reporter.

"Add a qualifier: 'on a winning team.' I don't fit the criteria," Han replied curtly, refusing the compliment.

ESPN followed up: "You led by 12 at halftime but lost the game. What happened?"

"They wanted it more."

"Do you think changes are needed? Perhaps a trade?"

Han's response was sharp: "We need to play angry. When the league disrespects a two-time champion by not ranking us first, we should take that personally. We need to play with rage."

...

The Next Day's Practice

The entire Grizzlies roster arrived at the practice facility an hour early the next morning. Even Rudy Gay, who often had his own schedule, showed up on time. Not a single person was absent.

Han Sen's uncharacteristic outburst had left a lasting impact. But more than his imposing demeanor, his words carried weight. Everyone knew the Grizzlies were paying an exorbitant luxury tax this season. And as long as Han didn't oppose it, management would likely have no hesitation trading away anyone they deemed expendable.

Before practice began, Han addressed the team, explaining the reason behind his demand for their early arrival.

Starting that day, Han introduced a new rule: after any loss, the entire team would report to practice an hour earlier the next day.

"If anyone's got an issue with this," Han said, "we can settle it right here, one-on-one. We can play any style you want—American-style one-on-one, a shooting contest, passing drills, anything."

When Han laid down the challenge, Shane Battier hesitated to speak.

Han's aspirations for building a dynasty were no secret. He'd been vocal about it for over a year. But using his position within the team to pressure his teammates into 'overtime' was bound to create tension.

Still, no one stepped up to take him on.

Everyone understood—there was no beating Han in any aspect of basketball. He was indisputably the team's best player in every facet. If Han wanted to become a primary ball-handler and emulate prime Jordan, he could easily average a 30-8-8 stat line.

Instead, Han focused on what he did best, allowing his teammates to shine in other roles.

But Han wasn't done proving his point. He announced that the day's practice would be entirely American-style one-on-one drills.

For the next 45 minutes, Han demolished every single teammate.

By the end, the team had no choice but to swallow their frustration. Even if they felt discontent, no one dared voice it.

When the 45-minute session ended, the players were given a 15-minute break. Han, however, sat alone on one side of the court.

Shane Battier approached him.

"Han, I know you want to win. But maybe there's a better way—like the way you used to lead us, bringing everyone together toward a common goal," Battier suggested, referencing Han's previous method of uniting the team through camaraderie and shared purpose.

Han shook his head. "Shane, you understand this season is different."

If his old methods still worked, Han wouldn't have resorted to this approach. His personality was worlds apart from Michael Jordan's or Kobe Bryant's, yet he was now forced into a similar role.

"That'll make you the villain—just like Hollins," Battier warned. While this approach might work in the short term, it could lead to long-term damage.

"Someone has to play the villain, right?" Han replied, meeting Battier's gaze with a calm expression.

The championship no longer held the same allure for his teammates. Unless a stronger motivator emerged, someone needed to be the bad guy, pushing everyone forward.

Han knew he would be the last to leave the team. No one was better suited for this role than him.

Battier didn't know Han planned to leave eventually, but for now, there was no better solution.

"I understand. I'll do my best to help them cope," Battier said, conceding.

Han patted Battier's shoulder. "Being the locker room leader this season isn't going to be easy."

...

Han's method proved effective. Following their loss to the Heat, the Grizzlies went 5–1 over the next two weeks.

Although their start wasn't as perfect as last season's, they were performing at the level expected of them.

However, the cost was evident. The off-court relationships between Han and his teammates noticeably deteriorated.

It's often said that on- and off-court dynamics are equally important, but people aren't machines. If maintaining harmony were that easy, the Shaq-Kobe duo would've stayed together.

Han found himself understanding Kobe Bryant more deeply. Retired Kobe seemed like a completely different person—almost unrecognizable from his playing days. The contrast puzzled many, but Han now realized it was likely because Kobe had forced himself to play a role he didn't want, all in the name of winning.

Sometimes, you can't have your cake and eat it too; sacrifices are inevitable.

Of course, doing something you don't enjoy is never pleasant.

Han's mood had taken a hit as well.

Especially now that he and Scarlett had parted ways, leaving him without an outlet for his emotions.

...

The Grizzlies flew to Oakland to prepare for their game against the Warriors.

Chris Rondo tagged along with Han and, upon landing, suggested a detour with an air of mystery.

Han assumed it would be a nightclub or something similar, but to his surprise, they arrived at a local pet market.

Rondo explained his intent: seeing Han in low spirits, he thought getting a pet might help lift his mood.

It wasn't a bad idea. Many NBA players dealt with psychological stress—some turned to nightlife, others to dangerous substances. Still, many found solace in adopting unusual pets.

The pet market was massive and diverse. Cats, dogs, and fish were just the basics; they even had exotic options like snakes and monkeys.

Yet, after wandering through the market, Han couldn't find a pet that felt right for him.

Pets needed a special kind of connection—without it, they'd just end up as the responsibility of a hired caretaker.

Just as he was about to suggest heading back, his attention was caught by a figure in the distance.

It wasn't a pet. It was a person—a woman.

The same cheerleader he'd seen at Oracle Arena once before.

Han suddenly remembered Scarlett's parting advice: "If you meet the one you want to marry next time, don't hesitate. Go for it."

Without a second thought, Han strode toward her.

-To be continued-