The buzzer signaling the end of the first quarter sounded, and the players headed back to their benches. The two-minute break between quarters became crucial for both teams to regroup.
On the Lakers' bench, Shaquille O'Neal slumped in his seat. The usual dominance had vanished from his face, replaced by a trace of confusion and frustration.
With both hands braced on his knees, he hung his head, brow tightly furrowed and eyes vacant, muttering under his breath about something no one could make out.
Those familiar with Shaquille O'Neal knew he had always been like this. Whenever he ran into trouble or was suppressed by an opponent, he tended to fall into self-doubt, wearing that lost expression.
He had failed to score a single point in the first quarter and had been completely shut down by Li Fei. That sense of defeat was difficult for one of the league's premier centers to accept.
Just as O'Neal was sinking into confusion, Kobe walked over, pulled up a chair beside him, and sat down. His tone was firm, carrying no blame—only encouragement.
"Shaq, lift your head. It's only the first quarter, not the end of the whole game."
Kobe's voice was not loud, yet it carried an undeniable force that cut through the noise on the bench.
"I know you're having a hard time right now. Li Fei's defense has made things difficult for you, but you're Shaquille O'Neal, the most dominant center in the league. You can't just admit defeat like this."
He patted O'Neal on the shoulder, his gaze sharp and unwavering. "If we want to win the championship, I can't do it alone. I need you. The Lakers need you."
"The Knicks are strong, and Li Fei is strong, but we're not pushovers either. As long as you find