Tony Parker’s Little Secret

When facing a player like Lian Dao or Kobe Bryant, using the same strategy the Spurs applied to James is essentially a death sentence. The game would unravel quickly. Lian Dao thrives on long-range shots, particularly his lethal three-point shooting, which terrifies any team that dares leave him open. After every game, teams that underestimate his shooting ability end up regretting it.

The Spurs, well aware of this, know they can't afford to give Lian Dao any room beyond the arc. They focus on Tim Duncan in the paint, exploiting the Knicks' defensive weakness inside. It's a classic Spurs strategy—relying on Duncan's dominance in the low post.

"One move to rule them all," as the saying goes.

Parker lobbed the ball to Duncan, who calmly pivoted and laid it in. Simple but devastating.

Meanwhile, on defense, Richard Jefferson stuck to Lian Dao like glue, not giving him any breathing room for a three-point attempt. Lian Dao, unfazed, attacked with a quick dribble penetration, drawing defenders and dishing it off to David Lee, who knocked down a mid-range jumper.

The game seemed set to play out like this for the first quarter—until the Spurs made a critical substitution. With 7:55 left, Keith Bogans was replaced by none other than Manu Ginobili.

Now, Ginobili wasn't the flashy, long-haired star from his younger days. His hair, once sacrificed to time (or Duncan's superstitious head pats), had long faded. Now, he resembled a cunning, seasoned veteran—like a pampas vulture, even if Lian Dao wasn't sure if vultures existed on the Pampas plateau.

As soon as Ginobili entered the game, he wasted no time. With his signature Euro step, he slithered through the Knicks' defense and finished with a crafty layup. At 32, his abilities hadn't diminished at all; he still possessed that ghostly, unpredictable style that left defenders grasping at air.

Duncan, jogging back on defense, casually reached over and rubbed Ginobili's bald head with a satisfied grin. But something seemed to have changed. He frowned, smacked his lips, and thought for a moment. 

"It's not as smooth as when he had hair," Duncan mused. 

His eyes flicked toward Tony Parker's nearly shaved scalp, but he quickly dismissed the thought. "Too short. Probably sticky. Not worth it."

Duncan sighed and resigned himself to Ginobili's bald head for now. "It'll do."

Watching this strange scene unfold, Lian Dao couldn't help but shudder. He silently vowed that he would *never* let anyone near his hair on the court.

Still, he had to admit, the bald Ginobili seemed even more dangerous than before. Maybe Duncan's magic touch really did have some sort of buffing effect. Could it be that Duncan was secretly overpowered, enhancing his teammates' skills with just a pat on the head? It was almost like they were cheating.

Lian Dao chuckled to himself as he imagined calling the referees. "Ref, can I report Duncan for giving his teammates buffs?"

At that moment, Tony Parker suddenly felt a strange sensation, as if something—or someone—was watching him. It was brief, but unsettling. Could it be that Eva Longoria had found out about his secret? No, he reassured himself. He had been careful, very careful. Still, the thought of Brent Barry's wife, Erin, crossed his mind. She was undeniably captivating.

A guilty itch tugged at his thoughts. "A wife isn't as exciting as a mistress, and a mistress isn't as thrilling as sneaking around," he mused to himself.

If Parker were a fan of ancient Chinese history, he'd probably admire the cunning of Cao Cao from The Three Kingdoms. Lost in thought, Parker failed to realize that his nearly shaven head had just saved him from Duncan's ritualistic pat and its supposed "buff" effect.

Back on the court, the score stood at 9-10, with the Spurs holding a slim one-point lead. As the Knicks retreated into defense, Popovich, ever the perfectionist, paced to the sidelines and bellowed at his players. He was a coach who lived and breathed defense. Against the Spurs, teams rarely managed to score over 100 points, and right now, Pop was anything but pleased with how easily Lian Dao was breaking through their defense.

Lian Dao had repeatedly sliced through the Spurs' defense, either scoring himself or setting up his teammates. Popovich's frustration soon spilled onto the court, igniting a change in the Spurs' intensity.

This time, Lian Dao again darted into the paint, drawing defenders like a magnet before kicking the ball out to Millsap for a mid-range shot. But as Millsap released the ball, Manu Ginobili darted in from nowhere, leaping to contest. The ball clanged off the rim, bouncing out.

Duncan moved into position to secure the rebound. Just as he extended his hands, he felt a shadow sweep over him. A pair of yellow-skinned hands, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, snatched the rebound. Before Duncan could react, a strong force knocked him aside.

"Bang!"

It was Lian Dao—he had soared above Duncan, snatched the rebound, and thundered down a put-back dunk, all in one motion.

Duncan stood there, stunned, watching Lian Dao land beneath the basket. Where did he come from? Duncan thought, completely baffled. I didn't even see him.

In that moment, Duncan realized something: once again, he had become a background figure in someone else's highlight reel. This wasn't the first time.

However, ever the professional, Duncan quickly composed himself. His face was stoic, and he immediately shifted back into position. But as calm as Duncan seemed, Popovich wasn't handling it as well. The legendary coach was practically fuming on the sidelines, pointing and barking at his players, his frustration palpable.

For Lian Dao, seeing Popovich in such a fiery state was surprising. He had seen Pop smile and crack jokes at press conferences, but this was a completely different side of the coach. Talk about two faces, he thought with amusement.

He really is a master at hiding his true nature.

As Duncan defended Ginobili, the Argentine star used a pick-and-roll to find a path straight to the basket. However, his attempt at a layup was met with David Lee, who blocked the shot with perfect timing. The ball ricocheted off the rim, and Lian Dao, already anticipating the fast break, sped ahead of Tony Parker. Lee, quick to regain control of the loose ball, passed it to Lian Dao, igniting the Knicks' renowned counterattack.

Lian Dao, without hesitation, launched a perfect long pass to Wilson Chandler, who sprinted ahead for an easy layup. The Knicks thrived in transition, and whenever they triggered a fast break, it seemed almost certain they'd score.

Popovich's face darkened as his team's failed offensive possession led to yet another quick counter by the Knicks.

The pressure was mounting on the Spurs, and Parker, feeling the heat, rushed an outside shot on their next possession—only to miss. David Lee, dominating the boards, grabbed the defensive rebound and handed it over to Lian Dao.

This time, it was Chris Duhon sprinting down the court with blazing speed. After seeing Wilson Chandler finish a fast break, Duhon was eager to contribute as well. Lian Dao delivered another pinpoint long pass, hitting Duhon in stride. However, as Duhon leaped for a layup, Richard Jefferson ruthlessly yanked him down from mid-air. Duhon crashed hard to the floor, writhing in pain, clutching his ankle.

The Madison Square Garden crowd erupted in fury, sensing the brewing conflict. Wilson Chandler and Millsap, being closest to Duhon during the break, clenched their fists and immediately stormed toward Jefferson, ready to retaliate.

The Knicks weren't known to back down—especially under the leadership of Lian Dao, whose fiery, vengeful nature had rubbed off on his teammates. Tensions had boiled over, and a brawl seemed inevitable.

But Jefferson, a seasoned veteran, swiftly retreated behind the referee, avoiding a direct confrontation. His evasive maneuvers brought to mind the notorious antics of Bruce Bowen, a former Spurs player famous for pushing the boundaries of physical play. Perhaps Bowen had taught him well.

With the players from both teams on the verge of clashing, the referees rushed in, managing to separate them before things escalated further. Slowly, the conflict settled.

Meanwhile, the Knicks' team doctor rushed to Duhon's side. He was clearly in pain, clutching his ankle. After a quick assessment, it was determined that Duhon had suffered a sprained ankle, though the severity remained unclear. Fortunately, the awkward way Duhon had landed allowed him to avoid a more serious injury—if his head had hit the floor, it could've been a concussion. Lian Dao helped the limping Duhon to the bench, visibly frustrated by the dangerous play.

The game was halted for a technical timeout, and the Garden crowd roared with anger. Fans furiously screamed at Richard Jefferson, calling for his ejection, labeling him an "executioner."

Coach Mike D'Antoni approached the team doctor, who recommended sending Duhon to the locker room for a more thorough examination. D'Antoni nodded in agreement, and Duhon was escorted off the court.

With Duhon out, D'Antoni made adjustments. He brought in Jrue Holiday to replace the injured Duhon and Eddie Curry to sub for David Lee. Though Curry was typically a benchwarmer, D'Antoni's decision to use him revealed his deeper strategy.

D'Antoni had a long-standing grudge against the Spurs. Memories of his time coaching the Suns and seeing Steve Nash get injured by Robert Horry's infamous hip-check were fresh in his mind. This time, D'Antoni was ready for a brawl of endurance. If the Spurs wanted to play dirty, he would match their intensity and see who could last longer in the physical battle.

Before Eddie Curry checked in, D'Antoni leaned over and whispered a few words into his ear, sending Curry onto the floor with clear intent.

The referees reviewed the play and issued Richard Jefferson a flagrant 1 foul, but the decision did little to appease the enraged Knicks fans. Many in the stands felt Jefferson should've been ejected for such a dangerous move, and they loudly voiced their displeasure at the perceived unfairness.

Despite the ruling, the Knicks weren't satisfied either. They felt their teammate had been wronged.

As the game resumed, Wilson Chandler stepped to the free-throw line in place of Duhon. He calmly sank both shots, and with the Knicks retaining possession, they had a chance to extend their lead.

But just as Chandler lined up for the free throws, Popovich made another tactical move—substituting Jefferson out of the game, a move that both silenced the crowd's chants and calmed the storm that had nearly erupted on the court.