Sports Medicine Master System

Inside the spacious and brand-new AT&T Center, some Spurs fans were leaving in anger, but others rose to their feet to applaud the home team’s players.

The applause started small and scattered, but it grew until it thundered throughout the entire arena.

Though a small-market team from a small city, the Spurs had always possessed the most loyal fans in the league.

So even though the team was eliminated, the fans were willing to stand by their team and offer them a round of applause.

But Popovich stood on the sideline like a statue, his arms crossed tightly, his face devoid of any expression.

He had held this pose ever since the Spurs’ collapse in the fourth quarter.

Even now, his hands and feet felt ice-cold.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle losing.

The Spurs had won championships, and they had tanked for draft picks. They’d had their ups and downs. For the past two years, they’d been shut down by the Phoenix Suns, always falling in the Western Conference Finals, but he’d never made a big deal out of it.

If one year didn’t work out, they would just come back the next.

But to be eliminated in the first round... to be upset by an eighth seed... in decades of NBA history, that had only happened four times!

Popovich truly couldn’t accept this result.

But who could he blame?

Duncan?

Popovich’s gaze swept over to Duncan.

He was bent over with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath, staring blankly at the wildly celebrating Pioneer players.

’You really can’t blame him!’

Throughout the entire game, Duncan’s shot just wasn’t falling.

Popovich knew he was exhausted. Especially in the final quarter, it was clear he could barely run anymore.

Otherwise, how could he have let Milicic drive it coast-to-coast from above the free-throw line to the basket multiple times?

With 21 points and 11 rebounds, Duncan had already left everything on the court.

’Then who was to blame?’

’What about Mutombo? He let Randolph rack up 23 points and 9 rebounds, constantly drawing fouls in the paint until he fouled out at the very start of the fourth quarter.’

’The man was getting old. After the last game, his arm hurt so much he could barely lift it. For him to be bullied like that by a kid in his early twenties... it was a sad sight.’

’Or should he blame Parker, who got completely locked down by the substitute Tony Allen and committed two turnovers in a row?’

Popovich felt he shouldn’t blame any of them.

Over the course of seven games, especially the last one, the Spurs had truly given everything they had.

If there was anyone to blame, it had to be the Pioneer!

Before the series began, Popovich truly hadn’t expected the Pioneer to be so tenacious.

Throughout the season, Popovich had been keeping an eye on the Pioneer’s so-called "run-and-gun" style. Under Nash’s control, the Pioneer were constantly on the fast break, scoring on defensive transitions, using all sorts of passing combinations, cutting to the basket, and jacking up threes.

And then there was Milicic, a completely unorthodox center.

Popovich had always felt this style of play was too strange. It might work in the regular season, but once they faced real, hard-nosed playoff basketball and the defensive intensity ramped up, the Pioneer would fall apart.

But who would have thought that the Pioneer’s style would hold up? And at critical moments, someone always managed to step up.

His gaze fell on the Pioneer players on the other side of the court.

Milicic, Randolph, Iguodala, Joe Johnson, Al Jefferson, Boris Diaw, O’Ku, Salemport, Tony Allen, Larry Hughes, Darius Miles.

As his eyes swept over them, Popovich recognized every single player. Each one of them had stepped up at some point during the series.

Somehow, under the radar, the Pioneer had assembled this group of young, talented players.

Most importantly, every one of them played to their own strengths.

There was Al Jefferson, who displayed low-post footwork on par with Olajuwon’s, despite refusing to use his left hand no matter which side of the basket he was on.

There was Boris Diaw, who clearly had the height of a big man but handled the ball and orchestrated the offense from the perimeter like a guard.

And Tony Allen—physically strong, loved to drive into the paint, and had the potential to be a sharp offensive threat on the perimeter—but it was as if all his skill points had been poured into defense.

With the help of Chen Yu’s team, this group of rookies all seemed to have found a playstyle that suited them, allowing them to play to their strengths and unique talents.

This was very rare, and it was something that made Popovich incredibly envious.

’If I had a bench mob like that, I’d have fucking blown past the Phoenix Suns and won at least two straight championships by now.’

"Greg."

Just as he was thinking, Callesimo came up from behind, patted Popovich on the shoulder, and gave him a worried look.

These past few days, especially after the series was tied 2-2, Callesimo knew Popovich was under immense pressure.

"I’m fine. A loss is a loss," Popovich said, forcing a bitter smile.

’I just didn’t expect to lose this badly.’

"Let’s go. To the post-game press conference," Popovich said, taking a deep breath.

Callesimo followed, hesitating for a moment before saying, "Greg, maybe you should skip the press conference later."

He could already imagine how that pack of reporters, waiting for a good laugh, would sarcastically needle Popovich.

Popovich shook his head. "Don’t worry. I’m not a sore loser."

With his military background, he wasn’t that thin-skinned.

Callesimo nodded, then added, "Then at least control your temper. Don’t get into a shouting match with them."

Popovich wasn’t exactly known for his good temper.

Popovich snorted, but then suddenly smiled. "Don’t worry. Not only will I not get into a shouting match with them, I’m going to praise the Pioneer wholeheartedly. They were fantastic. I think they could even win the championship!"

Callesimo was stunned.

’Win the championship?’

But on second thought, if the Pioneer could upset a team like the Spurs, maybe they really could make a run for the title.

「Far away in China.」

At Baiyun International Airport, which had just opened last year, Chen Yu, Hunter, Pioneer Football Club’s General Manager Jalen Chris, and Head Coach Mai Chao were waiting together in the VIP channel.

Chris was in his forties. He had previously worked in the marketing department of IMG’s China branch for many years before being poached by Chen Yu to serve as the team’s general manager.

The reason Chen Yu chose him was that he valued his marketing talent.

Chen Yu didn’t buy the team to chase results; he bought it to make money.

Therefore, the team’s core objective was singular: build a profitable market and get money out of the fans’ pockets.

Winning the league championship and competing in the AFC Champions League were things to consider later on.

That’s why he chose a guy who was skilled in marketing to be the general manager.

As for the head coach, Chen Yu had plenty of connections and could have hired an excellent one from one of the Five Major Leagues. And who wouldn’t do him that small a favor?

The key was, it wasn’t necessary.

Results were secondary. Why spend that kind of money on a head coach? It would be better to save the money and hire a few star players instead.

So Chen Yu directly promoted Mai Chao, the former head coach of the Sun Hei Group team.

Meanwhile, the Sun Hei Group team was now managed by the former assistant coach, Zhang Jun.

Mai Chao was a local, a former national team player, and the highest-scoring defender in the history of the National Team.

With his hands clasped behind his back, he quietly watched the exit of the VIP channel. After a moment, he leaned closer to Chen Yu and asked in a low voice, "Boss, I spoke with Xiaodai. He’s not very willing to go back to the Sun Hei Group team. He’s quite firm about it."

Chen Yu, who was reading an email on his phone, raised an eyebrow slightly and just said, "Oh."

Dai Xianrong, a former defender for the Sun Hei Group team. Born in ’82, he had been selected for the National Youth Team back in ’99. His performance was considered decent, so he was moved over to the Pioneer team.

The lineup that Pioneer was using to break into the Chinese Super League was basically the old roster from the Sun Hei Group team.

Chen Yu was still planning his recruitment strategy; promoting them was just a stopgap measure.

And after bringing in Batty and Cannigia, Chen Yu hadn’t stopped his recruitment efforts.

This year in the Chinese Super League, as part of a move toward complete commercialization, the limit on foreign players was increased from the previous two all the way to five.

So, with two forwards already on the team, Chen Yu planned to bring in a defender as well.

Chen Yu had his eye on the former Spanish international and former starting defender for Barça, Miguel Angel Nadal.

He played for Barça starting in ’91 and was a member of both their "Dream Team" and "Dream Team II" dynasties. He was even teammates with Ronaldo for a year. Cruyff was the one who recommended him.

Oh, and he also had a nephew, who was none other than the tennis supernova, Rafael Nadal.

His arrival would naturally mean replacing someone.

And that someone was Dai Xianrong.

Chen Yu had given him two options: move to the bench, or go back to the Sun Hei Group team.

But born in ’82, and only 23 years old now, he clearly still had ambitions.

After a moment of thought, Chen Yu said, "Talk to him again. If you can’t get through to him, just trade him."

In the future, the Chinese Super League’s restrictions on foreign players would be gradually loosened even more.

Retired stars sell tickets. And if you want results, there are plenty of players to choose from in the Five Major Leagues, Africa, and South America. Dai Xianrong’s skill level just wasn’t good enough.

Mai Chao’s heart skipped a beat, and he said no more.