Lü Bu Against the Three Heroes!
Paul had dribbled the ball down until there were only two seconds left before taking the shot. There was no way he could pass it to anyone else.
That was Beverley's knack for spotting opportunities on defense.
After knocking Paul down, he looked down at him from above and was about to start running his mouth.
But Barnes suddenly grabbed Beverley and spun him around, turning his back to Paul.
If Beverley had stood over Paul and berated him like that, he would definitely have gotten a technical.
With his back to Paul, Beverley shouted to the crowd.
"This is our house! Anyone who tries to act up on our turf gets their ass kicked."
"Even if you're Chris Paul, who's played for eighteen years and still doesn't have a single championship ring."
Paul heard that and felt as if a mouthful of blood had just sprayed out of his chest.
Damn, that hit where it hurt.
Of course, Paul wasn't one to be pushed around, either.
As he got up, he hurled trash talk at Beverley's back.
"I've played for eighteen years without a ring. Have you got one? You've been playing for years, wandering from team to team like a stray dog. Have you won a championship?"
Beverley chuckled.
"Man, get your facts straight. I'm not like you. I'm just a benchwarmer, just a role player. It's perfectly reasonable and logical for a role player not to win a championship. I don't regret it one bit. I didn't come to the NBA for a championship—I came to make money. But you, Saint Paul, God of Point Guards, peaked the moment you entered the league, the gold standard for traditional point guards. Think about all those impressive titles attached to your name. When