063: Is Isaiah a Fool?

Lynch, who had swept through Europe at the age of 18, was facing off against a franchise management for the very first time.

From the moment he transitioned from European courts to the NBA, Lynch realized the immense chasm between the two basketball worlds.

The warnings from Yao Ming and Lenny Wilkens still echoed in his ears: competition was everywhere here, and everything revolved around competition.

It was not merely competition against opponents; internal rivalry was equally ruthless.

This relentless competition strained Lynch's nerves and left him somewhat exhausted, yet he also relished the thrill of victory.

When the Assassin was forced to lower his proud head before him, Lynch admitted that he savored that moment.

Naturally, Lynch knew that privileges were hard-won.

Everything in this world had a price tag, and Lynch had not forgotten the price James Dolan demanded for his privilege: "Lead this roster to results that satisfy both of us."

What constituted a satisfactory result? James Dolan had not specified, but it was certainly not struggling on the edge of the playoff threshold.

The only thing Lynch could do was pile up answers with victory after victory.

And that was precisely what he did.

Following the aborting of the Kurt Thomas trade, the Knicks finally strung together a respectable winning streak.

The team decisively crushed lottery teams like the Trail Blazers, Hawks, and Bobcats, while also defeating playoff contenders such as the Wizards and Grizzlies. Catalan fans were still suffering after Lynch left Europe because Pau Gasol was a hero in their hearts. Yet their hero managed only 12 points and 3 rebounds in his duel against Lynch.

In the words of Marca: "Pau Gasol looked as though he had spent a honeymoon night with a man who had been single for thirty years."

This spoke volumes about the excruciating torment the Spanish giant had endured during the match.

Including the showdown with Philadelphia, the Knicks had recently claimed a six-game winning streak. The Smiling Assassin's chance of reclaiming his scepter grew increasingly dim under the mounting number of Knicks victories.

At this juncture, Lynch and the Assassin arrived at a delicate crossroad—the New York Knicks had arrived in Chicago, a place Lynch had long anticipated.

Jerry Krause failed to wait for the maturation of his envisioned twin towers before announcing his retirement in 2003 due to health reasons. At the time, he still believed the legacy he left behind would restore brilliance to the Chicago Bulls.

Now, Krause's belated "prophecy of light" was finally about to dawn above the United Center.

Entering the season, the Chicago Bulls boasted a top-five defense in the league.

Powered by the diligent defensive efforts of Kirk Hinrich, Chris Duhon, Andres Nocioni, and Tyson Chandler, the Bulls recovered from the growing pains of a four-game losing streak at the start of the season and recently reeled off a nine-game win streak!

Lynch was eager to clash with this Bulls team, not only because it was a head-to-head collision between two winning teams, but also because he couldn't wait to prove what a flashy piece of garbage Eddy Curry was, and to show the world how foolish Isiah Thomas's fantasies were.

Eddy Curry was also waiting for Lynch in Chicago with a vengeance; the seven-foot giant had never hated anyone this much.

He knew it was Lynch who had torpedoed his massive contract.

The Bulls' front office had long since lost patience with the troubled center. Although Curry's rookie contract was expiring, the team chose to extend Chandler rather than pay the salary Curry desired.

To prevent Eddy Curry from walking away as an unrestricted free agent for nothing, the Chicago Bulls actively shopped their young interior player.

Eddy Curry was nervous. He had made plenty of money during his years in the NBA, but even more people came asking him for money. With seven children to support, compounded by entirely unnecessary high-end spending, he felt very little financial security.

Eddy Curry's spending habits had always been absurd. For instance, two years ago, when local Chicago traffic police informed him that he could not drive his newly purchased, expensive Hummer SUV in the city center, he simply abandoned it in the team's training facility parking lot for 731 days, never once checking on the vehicle during that entire period.

It was Isiah Thomas who saved Eddy Curry. During a phone conversation, the Assassin promised that if the trade went through, the Knicks would reward him with a six-year, $56 million contract extension.

This thrilled Eddy Curry, who promptly bought two more cars to celebrate the Smiling Assassin's generosity.

The cars were purchased one moment, and the very next, the Smiling Assassin informed him the trade was off.

Holding his phone, Eddy Curry stood between two brand-new luxury vehicles, the expensive status symbols acting like two metallic tombstones mocking his stupidity.

For the first time, he felt the cruelty of the adult world.

Later, he learned through the media that the trade fell through due to Lynch's vehement opposition—it was Lynch who stopped it all.

Just because that young Caesar refused to play with him, his $56 million had vanished into thin air.

So when Lynch arrived in Chicago, Eddy Curry was primed for battle.

Interviewed by reporters at the practice court, he smiled and said: "Lynch doesn't dare go one-on-one with anyone. Why does he like Kurt? Because Kurt is willing to play the fool for Lynch. Has he ever guarded Shaq? Will he personally guard Tim? No, he won't. Just like tomorrow night, he won't dare guard me."

A day later, Chicago, the United Center.

When the Emperor faded away, this was no longer a sacred, totemic shrine of the NBA; the air was thick with the scent of decay.

The moment Lynch stepped onto the hardwood, Argentine forward Andres Nocioni walked off the court, staring grimly at head coach Scott Skiles.

The fierce Argentine's eyes blazed, and his tense muscle lines seemed to signal that he was ready.

"It's time," Scott Skiles nodded. "Go ahead. I know you've waited for this moment for a long time. Take down Lynch, end your nightmare. I authorize you to take a few more shots tonight. You can do it!"

Skiles felt he had resonated with the Argentine's resolve.

Yet Nocioni clenched his legs tightly together: "No, Coach. I want to... I want to pee."

Skiles: [...]

At the broadcast table, Bill Walton and his partner Mark Jackson were reminiscing about Nocioni's tragic history.

From European courts to the Olympics, and from the Olympics to the NBA, Nocioni was practically Lynch's portable inflatable doll, used everywhere to help Lynch vent.

Eddy Curry watched the departing Argentine with a look of disdainful mockery.

"Come on, Andres, are you really that scared of him? He doesn't even have the guts to guard me."

From the direction of the restroom came an enraged roar: "Shut up, Eddy! You have no idea how ignorant you are!"

The game began, and Tyson Chandler won the opening tip for the Bulls.

Eddy Curry's bloated physique roared into motion like a steam locomotive, charging toward the frontcourt.

Soon, a ferocious smile spread across his round face because the New York number 20 was actually right beside him.

Eddy Curry deliberately slammed his shoulder into Lynch's chest, his thick lips expelling hot air: "Ha, angry? Want to die? You think defending my post-ups is like defending Jessica Alba? Get lost, I'm going to play my way into a max contract off you!"

Lynch slowly turned his head, staring expressionlessly and directly into Eddy Curry's eyes: "Oh? How big of a contract? Is it a tenth of my shoe deal?"

Eddy Curry shoved Lynch away with a vicious elbow, his thick arms carving an arc in the air to demand the ball.

The giant, whose weight vastly exceeded Lynch's, could have utilized his size advantage to overwhelm the defense. Yet when Lynch wrapped around him like a snake to front-post him, Curry merely leaned lazily against his opponent, reacting with the passivity of someone whose spine had been extracted.

Eddy Curry was simply lazy. He possessed a polished back-to-the-basket skill set for the five position, but his lack of hustle in getting open compared to other low-post centers prevented him from developing many shots near the rim.

When you met him with aggressive contact and fronting defense, he was all too prone to quitting.

He hated anything that required grueling physical labor.

For a low-post scorer, if you couldn't receive the pass, even the best low-post skills had nowhere to be displayed.

Hinrich had already raised the basketball to ear level, ready to deliver the ammunition, but seeing Curry completely devoid of any desire to fight for position, he ultimately flicked his wrist and swung the ball to the wing.

Nocioni caught the ball with sheer delight; the air of the beacon of freedom was indeed filled with sweetness. Without Lynch's defense, the entire world was simply wonderful.

The Argentine's elegant jump shot pierced the heavy air of the United Center, netting two points.

"Damn it, pass it to me!" Eddy Curry let out a dissatisfied growl in the paint.

James Dolan was no basketball expert, but looking at the moron on television, he felt the Assassin was being far too casual with his money.

A guy like this—was the Assassin actually planning to give him 56 million?

No, no, no. This was only the first possession; it didn't prove anything.

Isiah Thomas was a professional. No matter what, he couldn't possibly be foolish enough to hand a massive contract to a piece of garbage, right?

The Knicks on offense: Stephon Marbury attempted to use a screen to break through, but Chris Duhon navigated past it instantly.

Chris Duhon was essentially a better-shooting, slightly weaker-defending Eric Snow. Bulls defensive coach Johnny Bach believed that Kirk Hinrich could only be considered the Bulls' second-best defensive guard because they also had Chris Duhon.

Facing the blanket-like defense, Marbury had no choice but to dish the ball to a cutting Grant Hill, but Tyson Chandler immediately swept his arms to rotate back into the key.

Hill dribbled once in the paint and whipped a blind pass backward out to the three-point line.

Lynch caught the basketball, locking eyes with Eddy Curry, who was standing near the edge of the restricted area.

At that moment, neither of them understood why the other was standing in that exact spot.

"Swish!"

"Oh, Lord! That is the dumbest defense of the year! Are Eddy's feet stuck to the floor with chewing gum?" Bill Walton was speechless. Up to this point in the season, Eddy Curry was the only player in the entire league who would leave Lynch wide open like that.

Humiliated, the big man grew furious, imagining crushing his opponent into the floor with his three-hundred-pound frame.

Yet his opponent had no intention of waiting to be crushed.

Lynch continued to front him, constantly bumping and pushing, compensating for his weight disadvantage with sheer ferocity and physicality.

Kirk Hinrich missed a three-pointer. Tyson Chandler was boxed out mercilessly by Kurt Thomas, leaving Eddy Curry as the sole Bulls player with a chance at the offensive rebound.

Yet he didn't even jump; he merely continued to complain: "I had total position! Pass the damn ball inside!"

"You really can't blame Eddy for this. You can only blame the Chicago Bulls for not bringing Magic Johnson out of retirement—only Earvin could pass him the ball, hahahaha." Marbury could barely hold back his laughter. Fortunately, Lynch had stopped the trade; otherwise, he couldn't imagine what playing with a guy like this would look like.

Then, on a nearly identical possession, Eddy Curry somehow lost track of Lynch's location. By the time Lynch caught the ball, Curry only just remembered he was supposed to be playing defense.

This time, Lynch deliberately waited until Eddy Curry lunged at him before launching his shot, a long two-pointer rippling through the net.

"Why don't I want to play with you? Because you don't even know how to fucking play basketball."

From then on, the first quarter became Lynch's unilateral slaughter of Eddy Curry, playing out an absurd loop on the court.

On offense, Eddy Curry rarely received the ball. He scored on his single post-up opportunity, but his output was simply too low.

On defense, he drifted as if waking from a severe hangover, watching as Lynch completed five textbook off-ball scoring possessions. The Bulls' coaching staff was forced to resort to defensive rotations, which only exposed further vulnerabilities.

At the turn of the century, against the majority of power forwards lacking range or with minimal shooting distance, Tyson Chandler could still bail Eddy Curry out. But today, the defensive black hole that was Eddy Curry rendered a top-five defensive team in the league utterly helpless.

James Dolan watched with burning anger. He pressed the remote control hard, and the liquid crystal screen plunged into darkness amidst static noise.

Initially, he had assumed Lynch simply disliked Eddy Curry on a personal level, or that he didn't want Kurt Thomas to leave. Alternatively, he thought this ambitious young man merely wanted a slice of the power pie.

At this very moment, however, he realized things were not nearly that complicated—the absurd one all along was Isiah Thomas.

That three-hundred-pound giant was nothing more than a battery-removed teddy bear!

If he had truly traded for Eddy Curry, truly signed him to a six-year max contract, and truly given up two first-round picks and two second-round picks for this fool, the Knicks would lose both the present and the future!

James Dolan was seriously pondering one question: Was Isiah Thomas truly a qualified executive?

The Knicks possessed Lynch; this was a gift bestowed by God.

Therefore, he could never allow anyone's stupidity to waste such a gift.

As Lynch continued to rack up victories, the scale in James Dolan's heart quietly tipped.

At the end of the first quarter, Lynch tallied 10 points, 3 assists, and 4 rebounds.

On the bench, Andres Nocioni mocked the dejected Curry: "How does it feel, Eddy? Feeling alright?" He pinched his nose to mimic Eddy Curry's voice, "'Oh, he didn't dare guard me.' Hahahaha, you fool."

Before the Argentine's laughter could even fade, Scott Skiles raised his tactical board: "Andres, you're guarding Lynch in the second quarter!"

"Ah!?"

The laughter stopped abruptly, and the Argentine's bladder began rapidly filling once again.