His voice was not loud, yet it carried unquestionable authority.
"We lost, and we lost badly. But this isn't the end of the world. Remember how tonight felt. Remember this helplessness. Carve it into your bones. The season is still long, and we still have chances. Now go shower, then go home."
With that, he turned and left, giving the players their space.
At the postgame press conference, camera flashes fell as densely as a rainstorm.
Mourning had changed into a crisply pressed suit and sat before the microphones. His face was still pale, but the unyielding fire in his eyes had reignited.
A reporter from the Miami Herald asked first, "Alonzo, that was a tough loss. How would you assess tonight's game? And your matchup with Li Fei?"
Mourning fell silent for a moment. He picked up the bottled water in front of him and took a drink, his Adam's apple bobbing as though he were suppressing something.
"They played better than we did. It's that simple." His voice was low and hoarse. "They're the stronger team. Li Fei... he's a phenomenal player. I gave it everything I had, but clearly, it wasn't enough."
"Some believe the Knicks have become stronger after losing Larry Johnson. What do you think? Do you believe the Heat still have a chance to beat them in the playoffs?" another reporter asked sharply.
Mourning's eyes instantly turned blade-sharp. He stared directly at the reporter and said, word by word, "I don't care who they lost or who they gained. I only know that as long as I'm in Miami, as long as I can still stand on this court, the next time we meet, I'll still fight with everything I have. We'll become stronger. We will. This battle is far from over."
A tough