Giannis wrapped the bandage tightly, tugging at it like a woman ripping open a package.
He didn't touch the instant noodles in Durant's locker, either. During halftime of every game, he usually ate some to replenish his energy—those noodles were damn delicious, after all.
But today, he only took a sip of water, then lowered his head and closed his eyes.
The determination in his resolute expression made it clear just how steadfast he was.
No matter what, they had to win this game.
Meanwhile, Irving stood in a corner with his hands clasped, muttering to himself.
His nickname, "Uncle Kyrie," hadn't come from nowhere.
He often made all sorts of mystical statements—like claiming the Earth was flat.
And he did all sorts of strange things—like burning sage on the court or walking in with a wooden staff.
Watching these three big names, Middleton also secretly resolved that, no matter what, they would beat the Kings today.
Holiday, however, was still the same as ever. Ever since Wang Yi had crushed his spirit last time, he hadn't been able to get it up again.
Aside from him, every other Bucks player was silently swearing to themselves that they would win this game today, no matter what.
Seeing that the team's morale had risen, Bucks head coach Budenholzer felt encouraged as well, and began laying out the strategy:
"In the third quarter, let's avoid running set plays as much as possible. We'll give the ball to Kevin or Giannis and let them go one-on-one."
His words surprised everyone.
Weren't they supposed to emphasize teamwork at a time like this?
Only by working together could they hope to beat such a powerful opponent.
Irving lowered his clasped hands and turned to look at the coach.
If those two were going to go