The midseason tournament's prize money didn't go only to the players. Coaches and team staff got a share too, bringing the total to a staggering twenty million dollars.
And that twenty million dollars would be decided within the next few moments, in a little court of just over two hundred square meters at the Raptors' end.
At last, after a brief twenty-second timeout, the Pistons took the court.
All the Raptors had moved to the frontcourt except Zhang Jiacheng, who remained behind the baseline in the backcourt.
The Pistons, naturally, had all moved up to defend in the frontcourt.
Normally, the Pistons would have left someone in the backcourt to disrupt Zhang Jiacheng's inbound pass.
But Wang Yi and Pang Bo were too good at drawing defenders, especially Wang Yi. Give him the slightest opening, and he'd find a way through. So the Pistons had no choice but to focus all their attention on the frontcourt.
The referee handed the ball to Zhang Jiacheng beyond the backcourt baseline and signaled that he could inbound.
At that moment, nearly ten thousand fans in the arena shook their heads and sighed.
No one believed the Raptors could still win under these circumstances.
How could they pull off a game-winner?
With the other team guarding them so tightly, were they supposed to throw the ball from the backcourt to the front and get an alley-oop for two or three points?
Was this a joke?
Some fans in the Raptors' section had already left their seats.
In fact, as soon as they'd learned the game had only 0.3 seconds left, many of them had headed for the exits.
After all, it was already late.
And if they waited until the game was over, the crowds would make it take ages to get their cars