Champion Creed
Chapter 71 - 71 053 I'm the one who made Black Jesus bleed!

71: 053: I’m the one who made Black Jesus bleed!

71: 053: I’m the one who made Black Jesus bleed!

Scottie Pippen proved with his formidable firepower that he was a terrible primary offensive option.

This tough guy never played tricks; he usually demonstrated with his actions that he really couldn’t handle it.

After the crushing 20-point defeat against the Knicks, the Zen Master and Roger personally took away Pippen’s unlimited shooting rights.

The Zen Master could normally turn a blind eye when Pippen took a few extra shots, especially since the team’s record had been quite good since Pippen’s return.

But in the game against the Knicks, Pippen was just too reckless.

The Zen Master had to ensure the team stayed on the right track.

Naturally, Pippen was very dissatisfied with this, but he really didn’t want to stir up the locker room anymore.

For Pippen, there was only one most shameful ending to this season, and that was if the team’s performance fell far short compared to the previous season.

If Jordan could lead the team to a win against the Knicks and he led the team to a sweep by the Knicks, can you imagine what a disaster that would be?

How was he supposed to face the media then, telling them “Ultimately, it’s just basketball”?

So, Pippen chose to compromise.

He was not afraid of Roger’s fists, he had the team’s record in mind.

In fact, he also knew that without Roger, he couldn’t achieve his goals.

An hour before the game against the Pacers, Roger arrived early at Market Square Arena to warm up.

Today, Roger had to ensure his shooting touch wouldn’t fail him.

Because if he lost today, he would become the laughingstock of the world: “Look, that idiot.

He said the team could do without Michael.”

Similarly, he would become the butt of Pippen’s jokes.

If he took away Pippen’s shooting rights and failed to win the game, Pippen would never be so obedient again.

While shooting, Roger saw another figure who had arrived early at the court.

He was lean but had a fierce look in his eyes, reminiscent of a skinny version of Majin Buu from the “Dragon Ball” comics.

That man was none other than the flagship player of the Pacers, a man Roger considered one of the top three tough guys in history, Reggie Miller.

Miller glanced at Roger and greeted him first, “I like what you said to Michael, and I like what you did to him.

Yes, Michael really thinks he’s God, thinking everyone should be afraid of him.

To hell with that, he is not invincible.

You proved that Michael Jordan can bleed too.”

Miller was sick of those youngsters who always kissed up to Jordan; he didn’t understand that kind of behavior.

Everyone is a man here, coming to battle, what’s the good in being subservient to your enemy?

That’s exactly why Reggie Miller never won a championship in his life, he didn’t understand the principle of turning an enemy into a friend.

In fact, after the turn of the 21st century, the Celtics’ Big Three had invited him to come out of retirement.

But he refused, stubbornly unwilling to join forces with a former foe.

He thought basketball was just about pure fighting, he was naive.

Miller first expressed his appreciation for Roger, but those who knew him were aware that this guy was almost incapable of praising an opponent.

Even when playing basketball with his own sister, she almost slapped him back into the womb because of Reggie Miller’s trash-talking.

Miller put away the little affirmation in his eyes and slightly raised his chin, “But you really are far behind Michael, the only way you don’t lose to the New York Knicks in the playoffs is to lose to us first.”

Roger kept on shooting, sinking each ball steadily while speaking calmly, “Let me tell you something I know, Reggie.

Since you entered the league in ’87, you’ve never won even a single playoff series.

So when it comes to the playoffs, you have no right to talk to me.”

Reggie Miller liked Roger even more now.

He went to the other half of the court and started shooting too, “Say whatever you like, but after today’s game, your girl’s gonna regret ever licking a loser like you,”

As one of the few in the NBA who got punched by both Jordan and Kobe, you can imagine how appropriate Reggie Miller’s remarks were.

As time passed, more and more people filled Market Square Arena.

Roger didn’t want his shooting rhythm to cool down, so he would get up and take a few shots every few minutes.

Before the game started, a sideline reporter approached the grim-faced Scottie Pippen to ask, “When Phil spoke of ‘unleashing Roger,’ does it mean your number of shots will be reduced?”

“That’s a good question.” If you observe carefully, you’ll find that when an NBA player doesn’t know how to answer a question, they always start with this phrase to buy time to organize their words.

“I don’t care about the number of shots, as long as we win, who cares about that thing, right?”

As if he didn’t care!

Having his shooting rights taken by a rookie was downright humiliating.

The game quickly started, and the Pacers’ starting lineup was very characteristic of Larry Brown.

Two inside players, one of whom must be willing to do the dirty and tiresome work with all his heart, has to be a muscled tough guy with more muscle than brains.

It’s okay if he couldn’t attack, as long as he could dunk the ball within two meters of the basket.

But he must be fierce and ferocious.

The other inside player could be relatively less physical, but must be tall and ideally possess a jump shot threat, able to run pick-and-roll plays with the guards.

The wing must have a sturdy forward with tenacious defense, ideally tall enough to play power forward, ready to peel the skin off anyone daring to score inside.