"Beep! Beep!"
Gentry called a timeout.
There were 9.6 seconds remaining.
The Suns trailed by one, leaving them in a difficult position. Still, they had a chance.
Nine-point-six seconds was more than enough time to execute a play. If they scored, whether it was a two-pointer or a three-pointer, they would take the lead.
"Boo!"
As Gentry called the timeout, a sudden wave of boos erupted from the stands.
What had happened?
The Suns fans were booing the referees. They believed the blocking foul called on George had been wrong and that the officials were favoring the Mavericks.
"I didn't commit a blocking foul at all!"
"These refs are complete garbage!"
George cursed as he walked toward the bench. Fortunately, the officials did not hear him. Otherwise, they might have given him a technical foul.
"They must be blind!"
Carter was equally unhappy.
Curry also looked furious. He snorted and said, "Home-court officiating really is different. Looks like they were paid well before the game."
"This is disgusting!"
George roared.
The Mavericks had already produced one "X-factor" after another tonight, with their luck buff seemingly maxed out once again. That alone had left George and the rest of the Suns extremely frustrated.
Now the referees were causing trouble too.
The players had already been upset. Now they were furious.
However, there was nothing they could do.
The call had been made, the free throws had been taken, and the Suns were trailing by one. None of that could be changed.
Fortunately, there were still 9.6 seconds remaining.
The Suns had one foot over the edge of the cliff, but they had not yet fallen into the abyss.
They still had a chance.
Blake and Nash remained relatively calm. Neither said a word as they waited for Gentry to draw up the final play.
Holding his clipboard, Gentry said solemnly, "There are 9.6 seconds left, and we're down by one. We still have a chance. As long as we score on this possession, anything can happen.
"Also, because we're only down by one, the Mavericks won't dare foul us casually.
"Use these 9.6 seconds and calmly execute the play. If we score, we take the lead.
"Blake is our first option. Get the ball into his hands whenever possible and create the best scoring opportunity for him.
"George is the second option. He's playing well tonight. As long as he doesn't force a three-pointer, he also has a chance to finish the game."
"Yeah!"
George responded with a low growl.
After receiving his coach's approval, he cast aside his earlier frustration and focused entirely on the game and the final possession.
He wanted to become the Suns' savior too.
"Curry is the third option, followed by Nash," Gentry continued. "Of course, that's only the basic order. You'll have to adjust based on what happens on the court.
"Remember, our only priority is scoring. That is what matters most. Understood?"
"Yeah!"
Everyone nodded.
The Suns had faced desperate situations many times throughout the season and had completed plenty of successful comebacks.
They still had confidence.
More importantly, they had the "Monster Rookie" Blake, the man born to hit game-winners.
His presence alone gave everyone an inexplicable sense of calm.
They could win.
They would win.
The entire Suns team remained completely confident that they could turn the game around.
The Mavericks, meanwhile, had only one defensive strategy.
Smother Blake.
Shut him down.
Do not let him take the shot.
At the very least, they could not allow him to score easily.
Soon, the timeout ended.
Both teams returned to the court determined to win, ready for the final 9.6-second battle.
Nash prepared to inbound from the sideline near midcourt.
"Whoosh!"
"Whoosh!"
Blake and Curry sprinted in opposite directions to get open.
Blake was denied, so Curry curled out, caught the inbound pass, and immediately moved the ball again.
"Smack!"
After cutting toward the basket and reversing back out, Blake caught the ball at the top of the arc.
Nowitzki stood in front of him.
Blake did not hesitate.
He feinted toward the left wing.
"Whoosh!"
Then he suddenly attacked to the right.
With one explosive step, he blew past the much slower Nowitzki. Against a defender roughly his own height, Blake's drive was even more effective.
However, just as he passed Nowitzki and prepared to accelerate toward the basket, Marion immediately came over from the wing to help.
"Thud!"
Their bodies collided.
Blake summoned all his strength and accelerated again through the contact, beating Marion as well.
But then...
"Thud!"
Marion crashed to the floor.
"Beep! Beep!"
The whistle sounded.
A foul?
What was the call?
The referee made his signal.
An offensive foul on Blake!
What?!
The instant the call was made, every Suns player and fan in the arena felt their mind go blank.
What did this mean?
The Suns had possessed an opportunity to score and take the lead.
Now, not only had they lost that opportunity, but they had also handed possession back to the Mavericks.
With that single call, the Suns had practically thrown away the game!
"What the hell?!"
"What was that?!"
"Blake clearly beat him off the dribble! Where was the foul? The referee is making things up again! Is this a rigged call?!"
"That's disgusting!"
"Boo!"
Boos filled the arena.
Blake was speechless.
George immediately lost his composure and rushed over to argue with the referee.
"Ref, there was no foul on that play. You can't make that call."
"It was a foul," the referee explained. "Marion had established legal defensive position before the contact. Blake knocked him down and prevented him from continuing to defend. That makes it an offensive foul."
"No, he didn't! Marion hadn't established position at all! Even if there was contact, it was normal contact. Marion falling had nothing to do with Blake!"
George desperately continued arguing.
The referee ignored him and walked away.
That only made George more anxious and furious.
He rushed in front of the referee, blocked his path, and shouted, "What the hell are you doing? Do you even know how to officiate?!"
His words were clearly driven by emotion.
"Beep! Beep!"
Without hesitation, the referee gave him a technical foul.
George's mind went blank again.
He understood exactly how damaging that technical foul could be for the team.
But he had already lost his temper.
At that moment, he completely snapped.
Unable to control his rage, George grabbed the referee by the collar and roared, "How much did the Mavericks pay you to help them?!
"You bastard!"
"Beep! Beep!"
The referee immediately issued another technical foul.
George had received two technicals in succession and was ejected from the game.
...
If you'd like to support my work and unlock advanced chapters, you can follow me on p-@-treon.
p-@-treon/GhostParser (40 Chapters Ahead)
You can also follow as a free member to read a few advanced chapters.