Weariness—endless weariness—filled the visitors' locker room at Staples Center.
Jokic sat blankly in front of his locker, looking listless, as though all he wanted was a bottle of soda.
Conley had his eyes closed as he rested. He was no longer young, and the demands of starting at such high intensity were becoming too much for him, especially with his physical condition having declined badly this season.
JaMychal Green was receiving a massage from the trainer. His muscles felt extremely tight today.
Dillon Brooks got two finger sleeves from Moon. The intense physical battle yesterday had left him with a slight finger sprain.
Not to mention veterans like Iguodala, Carter, Rose, and Gasol—they were even more exhausted.
Link looked around the locker room, unable to come up with any inspirational pep talk to fire everyone up.
After all, just twenty-four hours ago, they had been locked in a brutal battle with the Eastern Conference-leading Bucks, fighting until the final thirty-three seconds.
The players' physical fatigue was not something a few words could erase.
Link was remarkable, but not remarkable to that extent.
"Listen up, guys. Today, I'll balance the minutes between the starters and the bench. The starters may play fewer minutes, while the reserves will play more. Be ready, everyone."
Joerger looked at the exhausted players and repeated his rotation plan.
A thirty-three-game winning streak was important, but the players' health was even more important.
Everyone nodded silently. No one wanted to back down, but no one could deny the difficult situation they were in.
At that moment, Link stood up, walked to the center of the locker room, and clapped his hands.
Besides the Grizzlies players and coaching staff, there was also a film crew in the room.
They had been following the Grizzlies for an entire season.