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"It was a bit like the basketball San Antonio played back then, except they'd evolved it into something even more extreme, with an even greater emphasis on spacing. Very interesting. If I had the chance, I'd really like to get on the court and experience it for myself."
"Experience what it feels like to get toyed with by them? Man, that doesn't feel very good."
"Experience what it feels like to choke them to death with my own hands!!"
"Hahaha, forget it, bro. Even an outstanding defender absolutely can't shut them down by himself. To defend the Warriors, you need at least three teammates willing to defend. And one of them has to be a center with a great build and solid rim protection, plus a high-quality matchup specialist and help-defense monster. Ideally, that person should be a wing forward. Only then would you have a chance of effectively limiting them. And that's only for limiting the current Warriors, not that old Cosmic Warriors team."
"You might as well just say it would take that Thunder team to defend them."
"We did limit them to a certain extent, didn't we?"
"..."
"Why aren't you saying anything? You're making this really awkward for me."
"Alright, let's move on to analyzing the next clip."
"Fuck you!"
"Frank, remember to cut that part out later."
"Holy shit?! Don't cut it! If you cut it, I won't authorize you guys anymore!"
The recording of the show went "perfectly smoothly."
That was more or less expected.
After all, whether it was Kobe or Chen Xi, both had once stood—or still stood—at the very pinnacle of the league.
Their professionalism was beyond question, and their understanding of basketball was among the best in the world. Handling a simple show like this was