Chapter 57: The 3-Point King

Novak's high score came as a shock to everyone, no one expected him to dominate like this. He was the dark horse, breaking through with an unforgettable performance that had everyone talking.

As Novak came off the court, his excitement was palpable. He chest-bumped with McGrady, and Andrew gave him a thumbs up from his seat. The arena was electric.

Nowitzki, the defending champion, was feeling the pressure. Although he'd only scored 18 points last year, the crowd still had high hopes for him. And true to his name, King Nowitzki stood tall under the cheers, scoring a solid 20 points.

With that, last year's champion, Kapono, was knocked out of the contest. Novak, alongside Arenas and Nowitzki, advanced to the finals.

Facing two league superstars in the final round was no small feat for Novak. The order was based on preliminary scores, so Nowitzki went first. Despite the pressure, the reigning champ was on fire, scoring an impressive 21 points.

The crowd roared in approval. If Nowitzki defended his title, he'd match Larry Bird's record, becoming only the second big man to do so.

Arenas followed, unfazed by Nowitzki's performance. The "General" scored 18 points, missing the title but still exciting the fans.

Now, it was Novak's turn—the dark horse with the most pressure. As Arenas finished, Novak could hardly control his nerves, taking deep, steadying breaths.

Andrew reached out, giving Novak a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"Go out there and claim your title," Andrew said, his voice calm but commanding.

Novak turned and locked eyes with Andrew, his tension easing as he saw his coach's confidence. He nodded firmly, then bounded onto the court, ready to show the world what he was made of.

The crowd's eyes were glued to Novak as he took his place at the first shooting station, his hands gripping the basketball firmly.

"Beep!" The whistle blew, and Novak began his performance.

First shot—swish.

Second shot—another swish.

The third, fourth, and fifth shots all found the net effortlessly, including the money ball.

The crowd exploded with cheers, whistles cutting through the air as Novak moved to the second point.

Novak glanced back at Andrew, seeing that calm, unwavering gaze. His confidence soared.

The second station—four out of five shots.

Third station—a slight drop, but still solid with three balls sunk, including the money ball.

By now, Novak had racked up 15 points, and the fans were going wild. He was on fire.

He moved to the fourth point, slowing down his pace just a touch. Another four shots found their mark, including the money ball again.

He was sitting at 20 points. Two more buckets and he'd be the new 3-point champion. If he made all five, he'd set a new record for the contest.

The entire stadium was dead silent, holding their breath as Novak approached the final station. No one wanted to disturb the moment; history was just a few shots away.

Novak grabbed the first ball, his knees bent, arms straight, and wrist flicking as the ball soared through the air. It traced a perfect arc.

Swish.

The second shot followed, slipping through the net.

Novak had officially secured the title of 3-Point King.

But he wasn't done.

Third shot—swish.

Fourth shot—swish.

The crowd was on its feet as Novak grabbed the final ball. Everyone was standing now, eyes wide, hearts pounding. Could he break the record?

Swift, sitting beside Andrew, was squeezing his hand so hard he thought his circulation might stop.

Novak's last shot went up—a smooth, instinctual release, a jumper that was the product of countless hours of practice. The ball spun in the air, its trajectory clean and true.

The entire arena seemed to inhale in unison as the ball fell toward the hoop.

Swish!

"26 points! A new record!" commentator Mike Breen shouted.

The arena erupted into a deafening roar. McGrady, Kobe, Carter, and Iverson all jumped out of their seats, screaming Novak's name as he stood on the court, the new 3-point champion.

The crowd wasn't just entertained—they were witnessing history. Novak, overwhelmed with emotion, pumped his fists in the air before racing to the sidelines to slap hands with the NBA superstars who had cheered him on.

He finally reached Andrew, leaping over the seats to embrace him tightly.

"Thank you, Coach," Novak said, his voice filled with gratitude.

Andrew smiled, giving him a firm pat on the back. "You earned it. Great job."

Reporters swarmed the court, snapping photos of Novak with his coach. The moment was captured from every angle, immortalized in the flashes of cameras.

Winning the 3-point contest might seem like a small feat for many players, but for someone like Novak, a role player, this was one of the few chances to grab a championship trophy. Holding it in his hands, his face beamed with joy. This night was a career-defining moment for him.

As the celebrations continued, the dunk contest kicked off. Last year's champion, Nate Robinson, was back to defend his title, but in the end, it was the Boston Celtics' sophomore, Gerald Green—known as "McGrady II"—who stole the show. His windmill dunk, leaping over a large box, secured him the title.

While the dunk contest had its thrills, Andrew wasn't as invested. But Swift was bouncing in her seat, gripping his arm with excitement throughout the event. He was certain his arm might be sore by morning.

When the night's events finally came to an end, Swift was still buzzing with energy. Andrew, on the other hand, guided her back to the hotel. Tomorrow was the main event—the All-Star Game. He needed to get some rest and make preparations with Thibodeau for the game's tactics. As for Swift, she had a big performance of her own the next day. She needed to conserve her energy too.

As they headed out of the arena, Andrew couldn't help but smile. Novak had made history, and the All-Star weekend wasn't even over yet.