The referee blew a short whistle. The timeout was over.
Players on both sides rose from the bench.
Spotlights washed over the floor of the Staples Center. The air seemed to freeze.
On the Lakers' bench, everyone gathered around Phil Jackson's playboard.
White marker lines crisscrossed it, mapping out their movements.
The Zen Master set the board aside. He drew no more elaborate plays.
He knew that with two minutes left, it would come down to the stars' willpower.
O'Neal dropped heavily into his chair, his jersey soaked through with sweat.
His enormous hands kept kneading his aching thighs.
The endless battle in the low post had drained nearly all his strength.
In the past, Shaquille O'Neal would probably have waited silently for instructions at a moment like this.
Tonight was different.
He raised his head and looked at every Lakers teammate beside him, still breathing hard.
"Listen to me."
O'Neal's deep, powerful voice carried through the noisy bench area.
"We didn't come this far just to go home."
"Li Fei is strong. I admit it. But we're not down yet."
"Fight for every possession until there's nothing left in your body. Even if your legs won't move, get your arms up on defense."
"Don't shy away from contact. Don't give up before it's over. We're still alive!"
His words brought a spark to the Lakers' bench.
Glen Rice tightened his grip on the wristband in his hand and nodded firmly.
Toni Kukoč's gaze sharpened as his fingers pinched the edge of his jersey.
Stephen Kerr pressed his lips together. There was no trace of ease on his face.
Kobe sat beside O'Neal, sweat dripping from his brow and down his jaw.
He wiped his face roughly with a towel, an almost obsessive fire burning in his dark eyes.
"Shaq's