I Reward You With a Ron Artest

Goodwin's expression was somewhat heavy as he returned to the locker room; facing the Eastern Conference-leading Indiana Pacers, they would undoubtedly face a fierce counterattack in the second half.

All schemes and tricks are futile in the face of absolute strength.

Goodwin silently opened his personal attribute panel:

Name: Goodwin

Gender: Male

Height: 206cm

Weight: 100kg

Wingspan: 215cm

Layup: 49

Dunk: 50

Mid-range Shot: 100

Three-point Shot: 100

Shot Off Dribble: 71

Free Throw: 100

Speed: 85

Explosiveness: 50

Strength: 65

Vertical: 66

Stamina: 81

Agility: 60

Passing Vision: 40

Playmaking: 40

Defensive Ability: 70

Offensive Ability: 60

Injury Immunity: 39

Ball Handling: 61

Passing: 50

Rebounding: 50

Steals: 45

Blocks: 40

Overall Rating: C

After two months of grueling training, Goodwin had poured almost all the skill points he earned into his physical hardware.

If the hardware isn't strong, no amount of software prowess is of any use.

To put it bluntly, sports require a good physical foundation to support them.

Previously, his static measurements were excellent, but his dynamic ones were lacking; after two months of training, his dynamic stats had barely reached the standard for an athlete.

However, the revolution has not yet succeeded, and he still needs to work hard.

The road he has to travel is still very long.

After reviewing his personal attributes, Goodwin couldn't help but shake his head; he still couldn't think of any solution. Currently, he only had the "3" but not the "D," meaning his offensive ability was strong while his defensive ability was weak.

Fortunately, Goodwin's playing time was limited, so this weakness had not yet been magnified.

Just as Goodwin was racking his brains, Paul Pierce sat down beside him, wrapped an arm around his neck, and said, "What are you thinking about, Goodwin? You look so unhappy, I'd think we were the ones trailing!"

Who? Death wish!

Just as Goodwin was about to resist, he saw it was Paul Pierce and instantly transformed from a tiger into a kitten, sitting motionless and letting Paul Pierce hold him by the neck.

"I'm not unhappy, but I'm not happy either!"

Goodwin's words left Paul Pierce completely bewildered; what was he saying—was he happy or not?

Goodwin continued, "Senior Paul, the reason we are leading in the first half is that we caught the Indiana Pacers off guard. But after their halftime adjustments, they will definitely react, and we will face a fierce counterattack in the second half!"

Hearing Goodwin's words, Paul Pierce's expression didn't change in the slightest as he reached out to pat Goodwin's head, saying, "You're just a substitute, why think so much? Even if it's true, I'll be the one to hold the line."

Goodwin swatted away Paul Pierce's hand and said seriously, "Senior Paul, please don't touch my head in the future. I don't want to end up bald."

For a handsome guy, being patted on the head is absolutely unacceptable. Just look at that middle-aged man from San Antonio more than a decade later; because he was constantly patted by his older brothers, he went from a youth with a full head of hair to a bald middle-aged man.

Goodwin didn't even dare to imagine what he would look like if he went bald.

Paul Pierce: "..." FUCK! He had thought Goodwin would be deeply moved, but this was the result... Paul Pierce wanted nothing more than to slap Goodwin; this guy really knew how to ruin the mood.

If you won't let me touch your head, I'm going to do it anyway.

Without a word, Paul Pierce wrapped his right arm around Goodwin's neck and reached his left hand toward that thick head of hair.

NO! NO!

Goodwin resisted frantically.

Paul Pierce: (〃'▽'〃)

The more you resist, the happier I get.

Due to the disparity in strength, Goodwin's resistance was futile, and he was ultimately subjected to Paul Pierce's wild hair-ruffling.

"Goodwin, it feels pretty good." Paul Pierce didn't forget to give a five-star review.

Goodwin: "..."

At this moment, Goodwin wished he could put all his skill points into strength.

But looking at his remaining skill points: 0!

Ahhh! Help, someone save me, I don't want to go bald.

Just then, an "angel" descended from the sky.

Clap, clap, clap, clap!

Doc Rivers clapped for his players, and they all turned to look at him.

Only then did Paul Pierce let Goodwin go.

"You played brilliantly in the first half. Facing the Eastern Conference-leading Indiana Pacers, the fact that we were able to pin them down and beat them shows our strength. As long as we are all united, I believe we can definitely win this game."

Doc Rivers served up a bowl of chicken soup for the soul, leaving the players feeling satisfied in both body and mind.

Who doesn't like hearing nice things? Just like a beautiful woman, the more you hear it, the more intoxicating it becomes, and the more motivated you feel!

"Yes! We will definitely win this game!" the players shouted excitedly.

Doc Rivers nodded with satisfaction and immediately began to lay out the tactics for the second half.

The halftime break ended, and both teams returned to the court.

As soon as the game resumed, the situation was exactly as Goodwin had guessed: the Indiana Pacers began a frantic counterattack.

The reason the Indiana Pacers were so strong this season stemmed from their defense, so they started there.

Bang, bang, bang... they frequently intensified their physical contact.

"Clang!" "Clang!" "Clang!"... Under such intense physical pressure, the Boston Celtics kept clanking their shots, while the Indiana Pacers seized the opportunity to gradually narrow the gap.

Five minutes passed, and with Reggie Miller's three-pointer, the Indiana Pacers took the lead.

60:61

Since the start of the second half, the Indiana Pacers had launched a 13-2 run, overtaking the score in one fell swoop.

The fans at the arena were stunned; they hadn't been leading by 10 points? How were they trailing by 1 point in the blink of an eye?

Many fans rubbed their eyes and looked at the big screen hanging from the ceiling, which displayed 60:61. It was real; it wasn't a dream.

"Timeout!" Doc Rivers hurriedly called for a timeout. He had anticipated that the second half would bring a fierce counterattack from the Indiana Pacers, but he hadn't expected it to be this ferocious.

At this moment, the Indiana Pacers were like a wild beast, pouncing on the Boston Celtics and biting down without letting go. If the Boston Celtics didn't fight back, the only thing waiting for them was a loss.

What to do now?

Doc Rivers appeared very calm on the surface, but he was panicking on the inside.

Doc Rivers repeatedly stroked his bald head with his left hand, his eyes darting around, when suddenly he spotted Goodwin sitting on the bench.

In an instant, he had an idea—close the gate and release Goodwin.

After the timeout, Goodwin was subbed into the game.

On the sidelines, the Indiana Pacers watched Goodwin enter the court, the corners of their mouths curling up slightly. I guessed you would come on, so I'm rewarding you with a Ron Artest.