Champion Creed

At the award ceremony, Bill Russell joked with Roger.

He held up three fingers: "Didn't expect someone to be only three short of me."

You can understand that as the once modest, low-key, team-oriented Bill Russell now loving to boast as he grows older.

Of course, you can also see it as Bill Russell's heartfelt appreciation and praise.

After all, in the modern basketball environment, no player can win eight championships—even a lucky role player can't get eight titles.

Among those players who won eight championships, old man Tom Sanders retired in 1973, and KC Jones ended his coaching career in '92.

Tom Heinsohn ended his player career in '65 and his coaching career in '78. The ultimate winner John Havlicek is the closest among all those with eight crowns to modern basketball, but he also retired in '78.

As for those with more championships, Sam Jones with 10 and Bill Russell with 11, their glory was all in the 60s.

All of these people, whether star players or role players, are considered players of that ancient era.

And they have one common point: they were all Celtics.

Their incredible number of championships is fundamentally linked to Bill Russell and related to that immortal, richly green-tinged eight consecutive titles.

They achieved Bill Russell's dynasty and also enjoyed the benefits of his dynasty.

Roger is the only player in a more competitive modern basketball environment, with no ties to the Celtics dynasty, who can single-handedly achieve eight championships!

Moreover, he has something more than those people, which is the FMVP.

In Bill Russell's era, the League did not have the FMVP award. Roger has eight championships and also won eight Finals MVPs, meaning every championship season of his career was officially recognized as the best player of the champion team!

For ordinary players, winning a championship means everything.

But for superstars, where you rank among the players on the champion team also means a lot.

Roger's achievements are already quite terrifying, creating unimaginable miracles in the modern basketball environment.

In the NBA, many things are considered impossible to replicate.

No one can replicate Dominique Wilkins' power and grace in his dunks, no one can copy Vince Carter's soaring flights. No one can replicate Michael Jordan's extreme retractions, or Kobe Bryant's impossible strong shots. If you forcibly imitate them, you might end up moving towards abstraction.

Bill Russell's 11 championships were once considered an unreplicable miracle, a product of a specific era.

But now, someone is infinitely close to this number.

Debates about GOAT exist because there's no explicit standard.

If championships are the sole criteria, Michael Jordan wouldn't even rank in the top five, let alone among four-time champions.

If the scoring is the sole criterion, how do you weigh the 10-time scoring king against the all-time leading scorer?

In terms of MVPs? Jabbar can overshadow Jordan.

No matter who you say the GOAT is, there will always be points that can be argued.

And Roger is ending this dispute, because if this momentum is maintained, Roger will become a flawless GOAT.

No matter from which angle you compare, Roger will be the best.

So Bill Russell's words seem more like admiration.

In 1995, when he first awarded Roger the FMVP trophy, he certainly didn't expect it would be his first contact with the true deity.

After the award ceremony, Roger waved goodbye to the fans in the stands with all the Warriors players.

Tonight truly became the Warriors' swan song at Oakland Arena, as next season marks the end of their 33-year history in Oakland.

It's an inevitable step towards greatness; tiny Oakland is destined not to contain the ambitions of Roger and Mikhail Prokhorov.

San Francisco, Metrodome, more exposure and sponsorships, even driving the development of the entire Mission Bay—these are what the Warriors need today.

So, Oakland fans can only accept this.

In fact, now their hearts are free of complaints, only blessings remain.

Tonight, all Oaklanders received gifts from the basketball god, Roger did not leave his territory empty-handed, which is enough for Oakland fans.

Walking into the player tunnel, Roger saw the nervous John Cage.

After the game, John Cage was informed of an invitation from a certain player wanting to say a few words to him in the tunnel.

At that moment, he looked like a child, curiously gazing at everything in the player tunnel, smiling and nodding at every passing staff.

Roger walked over and waved to him: "This night would only be perfect with your dance, John."

John Cage, upon seeing Roger, seemed to be gazing upon the deity himself, admiration and reverence filled his eyes like water overflowing from a sink.

"You specifically sought me out, even remembered my name?"

"Of course, I know I'm about to turn 29, I can no longer brand myself as young. But please, 29 isn't old enough for senility," Roger saw several close-ups of John Cage on the big screen during the event, so he knew he was present.