Butler had grit.
He knew he was no match for LeBron. On defense, he had never expected to stop him.
His real goal was to wear him down.
Make him fight for every inch. Drain his energy.
By the time the stretch was over, LeBron would be tired enough to need a rest on the bench.
Then...
The Knicks' starters would be the stronger team on the court.
And if LeBron scored a few points along the way, that was an acceptable trade-off.
On offense,
Butler played patiently too. He avoided LeBron whenever he could and waited for openings.
He had no intention of pulling up in anyone's face and sinking a turnaround jumper.
Or...
Taking three long strides and throwing down a dunk over someone to bring the crowd to its feet.
Flashy, violent, spectacular offense.
Butler didn't need it.
As long as he scored, it didn't matter how ugly his shot looked or how awkwardly he got there.
None of that mattered.
Butler didn't care.
He didn't care about his numbers either. Forty points one game, eight the next—
He was fine with either.
As long as he helped his team on the court and helped them win,
It didn't matter how bad his stats looked.
Butler was happy.
Everything he did on the court was never about the numbers on a page. It was about... winning.
"Hah!"
Butler used a screen on the left and drove inside. A defender stepped up to meet him.
Butler initiated contact and used the momentum to spin.
He beat the defender again and charged to the rim, where a towering big man awaited him.
He didn't try to force a dunk over him.
For one thing, he didn't need to.
For another, he didn't have that kind of athleticism.
He raised