Chapter 88: Of Course, It's the Pick and Roll
Jerry Krause held the phone in a daze for a moment before putting it down, seething with anger. The Bulls had just been eliminated yesterday, and today he contacted Yang Rui, thinking it showed sincerity.
A young man dared to look down on him? Krause immediately wanted to teach Yang Rui a lesson and regain his dignity. But after thinking it over, he realized there was nothing he could do.
Publicizing Yang Rui's rejection of the Bulls' offer would only boost Yang Rui's reputation.
Denying Yang Rui's coaching ability in an interview was equally pointless; his words weren't authoritative, and other teams' scouts wouldn't believe him. Yang Rui wouldn't lose anything.
Krause was deeply hurt, experiencing what it meant to be "abandoned when the tree falls." Some said he single-handedly built the Bulls dynasty, yet he couldn't escape the cold stares of the team's star players. He had won the Executive of the Year award twice, but after this year's elimination, he faced merciless boos from the fans.
Krause always thought he was the key figure for the Bulls, but reality slapped him in the face—Jordan was the "big tree" of the Bulls.
Even without the Raptors' manager contacting him in advance, Yang Rui wouldn't consider joining the Bulls and getting involved in that mess.
He knew the Bulls' future: they played terribly in the lockout season, finished last in the East, got the first overall pick, and selected Elton Brand.
Even if Brand had consecutive 20+10 seasons, it was useless. The Bulls began a journey of finishing at the bottom for years, changing several head coaches, and only returned to the playoffs in the 2004-2005 season under Skiles.
It's no exaggeration to say that the Bulls from 1998 to 2004 were equivalent to the future terrible 76ers, whose annual job was tanking and drafting. No matter which rookie the experts favored, they would pick them to prove everything was futile—they just couldn't win games.
With such a team and an arrogant manager, how could Yang Rui possibly show any respect?
Yang Rui lay down and put the Bulls' matter behind him. Thomas went out to work, and with no one at home, he slept until noon when Van Gundy's call woke him up.
"Jerry, have you eaten?"
"No, I was just about to get up." Yang Rui sat up and checked the time—it was 11:30.
"Come out and have lunch with me. Let's talk about the finals." Van Gundy, who couldn't stay idle during the break, mentioned a nearby restaurant.
Yang Rui immediately went out and arrived at the restaurant after a 10-minute ride.
Van Gundy was sitting there, frowning, looking constipated. Yang Rui walked up and laughed, "Jeff, why do you still have that look? We're sure to win against the Jazz."
Van Gundy smiled wryly, "Even if we beat the Jazz twice in the regular season, we can't say we're sure to win, right? We had Patrick then."
"It'll be the same without Patrick because the Jazz's playstyle is too predictable. Don't you know what tactics they use? As long as we defend the pick-and-roll well, what's there to fear about the Jazz?"
Van Gundy had somehow started to enjoy hearing Yang Rui's bold statements, which made him feel at ease.
Yang Rui hit the nail on the head—the Knicks were probably the best team in the league at defending the pick-and-roll, which was a perfect counter to the Jazz.
Van Gundy said, "The Jazz average 101 points per game in the regular season, not weak offensively. Besides Malone, their players' shots are quite balanced. I want to use man-to-man defense, double-team Malone near the paint, and leave the center open. What do you think?"
"I completely agree. Although the Jazz have a high shooting percentage, they take the fewest three-pointers in the league. Besides Malone, the others' offensive abilities are nothing to fear. If he shoots mid-range, we'll guard him one-on-one. If he goes into the paint, he's done for."
During lunch, they finalized their tactics.
In two days, the finals tickets were sold out. Basketball experts and major media outlets predicted the outcome, with many thinking it was a 60-40 split, giving the Knicks only a 40% chance of winning the championship.
Fans mostly favored the Jazz to win. The Knicks had eliminated the popular Jordan, making them the villains. The Jazz had reached the finals for two consecutive years and seemed more experienced.
The biggest reason for the Knicks' lower support was Ewing's absence.
Without the regular season MVP, the Knicks only had Houston as a star, and he wasn't very popular. He was a substitute All-Star, and if fans had to choose, he wouldn't even be in the conversation.
The Jazz seemed to have less depth, but no one underestimated them, especially after sweeping the Lakers in the Western Conference Finals.
Some criticized the Knicks' salary, believing the league needed a reasonable labor agreement.
Columnist Marty Conlon wrote, "This finals isn't a fair competition. The Knicks don't care how much they spend; they just want results. They can bring in more excellent role players to strengthen their bench. Meanwhile, the Jazz's owner doesn't even want to pay their stars. Malone, Stockton, and Hornacek's combined salaries are less than Ewing's."
Marty wasn't taking sides in the labor dispute; he just thought the current model was unreasonable.
Indeed, last season's regular season MVP Malone had a salary of only $5.12 million, Stockton $5 million, and Hornacek $4 million. The team's fourth core, Bryon Russell, at $2.86 million, earned less than Knicks' backup swingman Chris Mills.
The Jazz's total salary was only $28.51 million, making it impossible for them to find excellent substitutes for their three veterans, leaving them with a bunch of minimum-salary role players, mostly blue-collar workers.
The Knicks' total salary was $53.97 million, nearly double that of the Jazz. All 13 players in the playoffs could rotate in, easily forming two lineups. Even without Ewing, the Knicks' lineup wasn't at a disadvantage.
Many were dissatisfied with the NBA, mainly due to the harsh reality that in the '90s, teams unwilling to spend money almost couldn't win a championship.
A decade later, these people would find the future even harsher—spending money wouldn't necessarily win a championship; to win, you had to form a superteam.
The Jazz were under a lot of pressure. Although most people favored them to win, Jerry Sloan and his coaching staff didn't have absolute confidence.
After watching the Eastern Conference Finals, they realized their team's shortcomings. Like the Bulls, their center was too slow.
In the regular season, Ostertag was easily beaten by guards, so Sloan had Greg Foster start 49 games.
Foster, 30 years old, 6'11" and 240 pounds, moved slightly faster but had no offensive ability. This season, he reached his career peak, averaging 5.7 points and 3.5 rebounds.
To strengthen the offense, Sloan often had Malone play center at times, using a small-ball lineup.
Worse, forward Adam Keefe, who started 75 games in the regular season, was confirmed to miss the finals. He had been injured at the end of the regular season, and after playing a few playoff games, his injury worsened. His playoff stats were only 2.1 points and 2.3 rebounds.
Keefe, 6'9" and 230 pounds, was an important rotation player. Now the Jazz had only nine effective players left.
After discussion, Sloan decided to start Foster, with Bryon Russell, who usually led the second unit's offense in the second quarter, starting at small forward. The sixth-man role was given to point guard Howard Eisley.
As for the second-quarter tactics, do you even need to ask? Of course, it's the pick-and-roll!