The Golden Age of Basketball

When his wife mentioned it, Gan Guoyang felt there was some sense to it and asked, "Have you ever checked who Dad called?"

"Yesterday, I asked Quentin to find someone to check. The call was made to a bar owner in Portland... She's a woman. I'm still having someone look into her background, but based on the current information, this bar is quite clean, hasn't been involved in any illegal activities."

"My dad does occasionally have a drink, but most of the time he drinks at home and seldom goes out. Does he often go out when I'm playing away games? Could he really be in a relationship with the female bar owner? How old is she, what does she look like? Could she be around my age?"

Wang Fuxi shook her head and said, "When you go to away games, he basically doesn't go out; he just stays upstairs watching TV, occasionally cooking for the family. Dad is a very traditional person; that female boss is probably in her forties. Oh yes, recently I found that Dad's been spending quite lavishly, buying a lot of toys for Wenshan and even buying things for you. How much pocket money do you give him?"

"My dad doesn't take my money; he has saved a lot from running the restaurant himself. But he is usually quite frugal... What did he buy for me? How come I don't know?"

Wang Fuxi gave Gan Guoyang a glare and said, "All you know is playing ball; Dad bought you a lot of health supplements and some custom clothing and shoes. Some of the shoes you wear for training, they were bought by Dad, not me. Oh right, he also bought himself a few pairs of AJs; I think he likes Jordan more than he likes you."

Speaking of this, Gan Guoyang became a bit annoyed, pouted, and said, "What does he know, always watching games and analyzing strategies, liking Jordan more than his own son, I think he's just wasting his efforts."

The topic circled back to basketball, and regarding Gan Youwei's 'abnormal' behavior, the couple decided to observe a little while longer.

As long as he's healthy, and at his age, having a few secrets is quite normal, there's no need to interfere too much.

On the gigantic projection TV, NBC began broadcasting the Game 7 of the Eastern Conference Finals.

Who will advance to the Finals, and who will be the last opponent on the Portland Trail Blazers' road to a four-peat, will soon be revealed.

On the fiery red floor of the Miami Arena, the two teams, shrouded in the gravity and fatigue before the decisive battle, maintained utmost silence amidst the noisy opening ceremony.

This has been a series that saps the soul, more despairing than the Western Conference Finals, with Pat Riley preparing a defensive meat grinder for the Chicago Bulls, at the cost of throwing his own team into the mill as well.

Throughout the six games, both teams' shooting percentages have been abysmally low.

A multitude of fouls, physical clashes, and battles under the basket made people feel as if they had returned to the late 1980s Detroit Bad Boys' games.

The Heat aren't as dirty as the Pistons, but they are more talented and tougher, while they face the equally talented and tough Chicago Bulls.

After enduring years of torment from the Bad Boys, Jordan had long become unbreakable, and ordinary tough defense had little effect on him.

But if the opponent was Hakeem Olajuwon, things weren't the same.

When Olajuwon took the stage amidst the DJ's introduction, the entire Miami Arena erupted into a frenzy.

As Olajuwon said at the beginning of the season, "I will bring a championship here, not in the future, but now."

Although the championship was not yet in hand, and there was still a ways to go, at least they hadn't been eliminated, and had dragged the decisive game back to Miami.

All of this was because the team had Olajuwon; throughout the 1993 season, he had hoisted the team forward, setting a series of records in the Heat's brief team history.

Highest points in a single game, highest average points per game, highest single-game blocks, highest average blocks per game, highest average rebounds per game, and so on—all etched with his name.

In the first two rounds of the playoffs, the Heat didn't face much resistance, easily sweeping the Indiana Pacers 3-0 in the first round.

In the next round against the Hornets, Olajuwon schooled Alonzo Mourning and Larry Johnson, advancing easily with a 4-1 series win.

It wasn't until the Eastern Conference Finals against Jordan that they faced a real challenge.

Pat Riley still looked as dazzling as ever; tonight, he had chosen a black and blue suit to look especially solemn.

His hair was slick and neatly combed, and his chiseled face bore the marks of time, lacking much of the youthful elegance of the Los Angeles days.

Time had taken away many things, but left some behind; for all these years with the Heat, Pat Riley had been striving with utmost effort, and now he had finally reached the brink of the final stage.

In fact, after losing Game 5, Riley was nearly in desperation, raging in the tactical office of the locker room, almost smashing glass with his fist like he did with the Lakers back then.

But Olajuwon stepped in to stop him, using his strong hands and firm gaze to tell Riley, "The series isn't over yet. I don't want it to end like this either. We can return to Miami."

Olajuwon's words calmed Riley, and before Game 6, Riley met with the entire team for meticulous preparation and motivation, just as Olajuwon stated, they must win on the road to have the qualification to aim for the championship.

Olajuwon kept his promise, Drexler didn't fumble, while the Bulls underestimated them; their morale had been thoroughly exhausted.

Neither in Game 6 nor in the more crucial Game 7 could Phil Jackson rally his players with words or inspiring books.