Harden's explosion.
Ever since joining Team America's training camp, Irving had never thought much of Popovich.
He'd always felt the coach seemed to have a bias against him.
But he never would have guessed that the person who understood him best was actually that very coach.
So he secretly resolved to make up the difference once he got on the court.
Then Old Master Bo turned to Harden, who was seated at the far end of the bench.
Harden's fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had gone white.
But he was breathing hard, almost as if he were suffocating.
The old coach walked over and rested a hand on Harden's shoulder.
"James Harden, if you want to push past your limits, if you want to overcome the shadow in your heart, then today is your chance."
James Harden froze.
He looked up in surprise at the old man with silver hair and a silver beard.
He had never told anyone about the psychological scars left by his asthma.
Only a handful of people knew.
He was afraid that if his opponents found out, they would exploit it as a weakness.
So, despite enduring all these years of criticism, he had never explained why he always came up short in crucial moments.
Yet Old Master Bo somehow knew.
Even more surprising, the old man knew about Harden's psychological scars and still planned to send him onto the court, at a critical moment when Team America needed points.
For a moment, Harden felt tears welling in his eyes.
As he looked at the silver-haired, silver-bearded old man, even his own beard seemed to tremble.
He slowly rose to his feet. Without saying a word, he gave Popovich a firm nod.
Next, the old coach turned to Aiton. "Aiton, you only