"Sabonis played well."
His voice was low and steady. "His performance tonight reminded me of his younger days. Not the thirty-five-year-old Sabonis, but the twenty-five-year-old Sabonis. He scored over me, grabbed rebounds over me, and dished out assists over me. I respect him because he's a great player. But next game, I won't let him have it so easy."
Phil Jackson stood at the locker room entrance with his arms folded. His face still wore that inscrutable, Zen-like expression, but his eyes were sharper than usual.
He said nothing, simply standing there and waiting for the reporters to gather around.
"Phil, what was the main reason you lost tonight?"
Jackson fell silent for a second.
"We forgot about Sabonis. It wasn't a tactical oversight. It was a mental one. Before the game, our players kept thinking about how to guard Li Fei, how to limit his scoring, how to cut off his connection with his teammates. But they forgot that the Knicks have more than just Li Fei. They have Sprewell, Houston, Marshall, and Sabonis. Sabonis caught us off guard tonight. That's our fault, not his."
"What adjustments will you make next game?"
The corners of Jackson's mouth lifted slightly.
"We'll tighten our defense on Sabonis. We won't let him receive the ball so easily, facilitate so easily, or score so easily again. But more importantly, our players need to adjust their mindset. They can't just think about stopping one man. They need to think about stopping a team."
He turned and walked into the locker room, his stride unhurried.
Inside the Knicks' locker room, the atmosphere was completely different.
The champagne was already open. Some players were laughing loudly, some were spraying one another, and some were singing off-key.
Sabonis sat in a corner with a glass of champagne