After Westbrook picked up the ball Wang Yi had knocked loose, he saw Irving rushing over to defend him, but he didn't hesitate for a moment. He leaped straight up.
There was no time to hesitate, and he was the only one in open space.
His jump shot was still straight up and straight down, like a zombie jumping—the Zombie Jump Shot.
He was getting old. He couldn't jump very high anymore.
But this time, it was as if he had springs in his shoes. To everyone's surprise, he soared to his highest point, putting his shooting hand well above Irving's reach.
The next moment, he flicked his wrist.
It still looked a little stiff.
Shooting that ball seemed to drain every ounce of strength he had. As soon as it left his hand, he felt completely spent. The moment he landed, he couldn't stay on his feet and fell straight to the floor.
The 42-year-old veteran had played 33 minutes. That alone was no small feat, and now he had to take the final shot. It was easy to imagine what an immense physical and mental test that was.
After blocking the shot, Irving lost his balance too and sprawled onto the floor.
Westbrook was lying on his back, and Irving was face down beside him.
Like a couple chatting in a grassy field.
But neither of them was in the mood to chat. Their attention was fixed on the orange basketball.
As they both fell to the floor,
the red light came on, and the buzzer sounded. The 48 minutes of regulation time had run out.
Neither of them looked up at the ball.
Because at that moment, their ears were all they needed.
Bang!
A loud thud.
The heavy sound gave Irving a moment of hope. The