Chapter 116: Like Ice
Anthony’s expression grew even darker.
He felt like every shot he took was a struggle in the swamp, exerting all his effort with little result, while opponents always scored effortlessly in front of him or capitalized on his mistakes to launch fast breaks.
This contrast made him increasingly irritable.
The next few possessions fully entered Anthony’s isolation play mode.
He almost abandoned off-ball movement; as soon as the ball crossed half-court, he would call for it from the wing or mid-post. Facing Xu Ling and Howard’s defense, he used every trick in the book.
Face-up triple threat into a pull-up jump shot, hard driving layup, and even a beautiful baseline spin move past Xu Ling once.
However, the altitude seemed to affect his shooting touch as well.
“Melo, isolation against Eli again, spin move jump shot misses!”
“Carmelo, forcing his way in, high-difficulty floater… slides out!”
“Melo! Outside three-pointer attempt… misses again!”
The Pepsi Center basket seemed to have a lid on it for Anthony.
Anthony’s consecutive misses turned the home crowd’s cheers into sporadic encouragement and deeper anxiety.
In the commentary booth, Kevin Harlan and his partner Doug Collins questioned Anthony’s reckless offensive choices.
“Anthony’s ice-cold tonight; he needs to find a better rhythm.”
“Maybe he should consider attacking the basket more or creating opportunities for teammates.”
In stark contrast to Anthony’s struggles was Xu Ling’s calm and efficiency. He didn’t fall into the same personal heroism trap due to Anthony’s constant isolation plays. When the opportunity came to him, he seized it without hesitation.
A classic “V-cut,” Xu Ling used Darko Milicic’s screen to loop from the corner to the top of the arc, and Kidd’s pass arrived instantly.
Anthony was solidly screened by Darko Milicic, a step slow in the chase.
Xu Ling caught the ball, bent his knees, jumped, and released—the motion was mechanically precise.
“Eli! Three-pointer… in! Assisted by Jason Kidd! Memphis’s execution is crystal clear!”
Next possession, Xu Ling had the ball on the wing, facing Anthony’s hostile on-ball defense. Instead of forcing isolation, he called Darko Milicic for a high pick and roll.
Using the screen, Xu Ling shook Anthony instantly and drove to the basket.
Nuggets big man Camby was forced to switch, but Xu Ling didn’t go for the glory—a bounce pass under Camby’s armpit found the rolling Darko Milicic, who caught and dunked easily.
The boos from the crowd overlapped with the commentator’s praise.
9 to 2
Nuggets called timeout.
Xu Ling glanced at the scoreboard with the growing lead and Anthony’s increasingly frustrated expression from repeated misses, then spoke again before they walked off: “Hey, Melo, I’ve got a question I still don’t get…”
Anthony didn’t want to talk, just glared at Xu Ling discontentedly.
“Your ‘Golden Twin Guns’…” Xu Ling blinked, “Do they take turns shooting? Is it AI’s turn tonight?”
Oh, though AI had only fired once for the Nuggets’ only basket to open the game, it wasn’t unreasonable.
Because Anthony had taken all the offense after that and missed everything.
But this remark was a bit too cutting; Anthony’s chest heaved violently, sweat dripping from his temples—unclear if from exertion or anger.
He felt like a clown performing desperately on stage but constantly messing up, while Eli Xu critiqued from the audience with relish.
Walking to the bench, Anthony took a towel; George Karl just gave him a contemptuous glance. Their relationship was poor, and always had been, despite Karl becoming his coach during Anthony’s rookie year, which hadn’t improved it.
Because Karl wanted Anthony to tone down his attitude, focus more on defense, and see himself on offense as an important but not essential role like German ghost Schrempf—but to Anthony, who had freshman-year offensive skills many never master in a lifetime, this suggestion felt like contempt, and they lost common ground after that.
Now, Karl’s look seemed to mock him: Didn’t you like one-on-one? Can’t handle that rookie?
“Now, we need to handle offense more calmly!”
Karl slapped the tactical board and said loudly.
Anthony flung the towel on the chair, neck stiff, silent.
“AI!” Karl turned from Anthony to the silently toweling-off Iverson nearby, “You take over offense; we need your experience and driving!”
Iverson looked up, wiped sweat from his face with the towel, and replied curtly: “Got it.”
Grizzlies’ adjustment was simple.
Mark Iavaroni no longer obsessed over any system; he understood the most important thing for a coach: let your best players play happily.
Though his best player was too young and sometimes got hot-headed, they had a veteran like Kidd to steady the ship.
Plus, Kidd was a player-coach on the floor; with him controlling the game, Iavaroni didn’t need much tactical tweaking—just rotations.
Xu Ling was hot, so Grizzlies didn’t need Josh Howard’s mid-range isolation; Ariza subbed in for Howard to boost wing athleticism.
Timeout over, Nuggets indeed switched styles.
And the switch was somewhat helpless.
Just from Anthony’s endless isolation to Iverson’s endless isolation.
But Iverson still had enough speed to blow by Kidd’s defense.
Iverson was like an unextinguishable lightning bolt, attacking the Grizzlies defense in his signature way—repeatedly driving inside, twisting in mid-air to float the ball to the basket, or kicking out after drawing help.
Passing—that’s where he differed from Anthony.
Same high-usage star, but Iverson led his team to the Finals at his peak thanks to his ability to create opportunities.
Though efficiency wasn’t high, Iverson involved teammates, while Anthony—after a quarter, Xu Ling felt he was mature in offensive skills (though especially off tonight) and decent on rebounds, nothing else.
Plus, Xu Ling spotted a major flaw in Anthony.
His personality, or rather, his understanding of the game. If Kobe started 0-for-5, he wouldn’t slump or get frustrated if Phil Jackson opened elsewhere—he’d defend hard and keep demanding the ball like an extreme sports pursuer, but Anthony would hit a slump.
Iverson was exploding.
Single-handedly, Iverson halted the Nuggets’ momentum and prevented the lead from growing.
But Anthony felt no excitement; he grew lazy, drifting from the game—even Ariza could dribble past him.
Yet Nuggets hadn’t lost; they hit Western Conference playoffs contender intensity right then.
Lead held at around 8; after Xu Ling’s opening surge, Grizzlies’ offense spread to others.
Ariza scored 5 straight on pretend-defender Anthony; Kidd hit an outside shot; with perimeter open, Darko Milicic and bigs had space inside.
Though Iverson was an elite ball creator, with Anthony slacking, one man couldn’t reverse the situation.
The stars’ explosion balance broke in the final five minutes of the half.
Breaking it wasn’t some earth-shattering move, but the Nuggets’ Golden Twin Guns’ long-broken defense system behind them, and Anthony’s increasingly heavy heart that finally crushed the team.
Grizzlies’ offensive possession.
Kidd steadily dribbled over half-court; he didn’t rush to call a play, just raised one finger and circled it in the air.
The gesture was a silent command; Grizzlies players instantly read it and began weaving runs.
Xu Ling started from the corner, faking up the line to shift the distracted Anthony’s weight, then a sharp backdoor cut straight to the basket.
Kidd’s pass was like a precision-guided missile, over defenders, perfectly into Xu Ling’s hands.
Anthony reacted and chased hard, but too late. He watched Xu Ling catch, start, switch hands in air to dodge Camby’s block, and softly lay it in.
60 to 50, lead back to 10.
Pepsi Center fans lacked even the energy to boo.
Their high-hoped Anthony was thoroughly beaten by Xu Ling tonight.
Transition, Iverson tried the same, but Grizzlies tweaked defense. Kidd denied easy starts, stuck tight, herding him to the sideline.
When Iverson used explosive speed to blow by half a body into the paint, Warrick and Darko Milicic’s twin towers awaited.
His passing lanes sealed, high-difficulty floater rimmed out under heavy contest. Darko Milicic grabbed the rebound and gave to Kidd.
Kidd caught, no pause, no looking off teammates—wrist flick, a full-court long pass was away.
Ahead, Xu Ling had started—like blue lightning, passing all Nuggets near half-court, perfectly catching the cross-court pass into open space.
No dunk; under despairing fans’ gaze, he pull-up jump shot outside the three-point line, adjusted, released calmly.
“Swish!!!”
63 to 50
Nothing but net!
Clean defensive fast break three-pointer!
Pepsi Center fell into dead silence; only scattered Grizzlies fans’ cheers pierced through. Nuggets head coach George Karl raged on the sideline, yelling at players, but drowned in the noise.
The play crushed Nuggets’ morale and ignited Xu Ling’s touch.
Next possession, Anthony sought response—low post call, post-up on Xu Ling. Moves still flashy: jab step, spin fadeaway—execution fine, touch not.
“Clang!”
Iron again.
Anthony’s shots tonight rejected mercilessly by Denver altitude basket.
Xu Ling grabbed the rebound, dribble push himself; over half, facing retreating confused Anthony, no pick call—instead two quick crossover dribbles at top with slight pauses, shifting Anthony’s balance instantly.
As Anthony’s feet faltered, Xu Ling pulled up without hesitation.
Anthony leaped to contest, too late.
In again!
66 to 50
Personal 8-0 run! Lead to 16!
“Beep~~~!”
Nuggets called timeout again. Anthony head down, straight to bench—ignored teammate’s offered hand slap, grabbed towel over head, shutting out the world.
“Great job, Eli!”
Kidd had seen great scorers—including the greatest ever—and Xu Ling on court felt like that greatest scorer’s second coming.
He could say: precisely because Memphis had Xu Ling, he agreed to the Nets trading him here.
The longer teammates with Xu Ling, the more convinced of his great potential.
Seeing him shatter Anthony’s mentality, he couldn’t help praising.
Xu Ling looked at Kidd unfazed: “Don’t get too excited, veteran—this is just one opponent we must beat.”
“Our goal is the playoffs.”
Ice-cold calm too.
Kidd thought “Iceman” fit Xu Ling best, but Memphis called him “Lord,” and outsiders saw him as LeBron James’ biggest rival, the Regicide.
But Iceman was right.
This guy showed little emotion on court; everything to dismantle opponents.
“Right, playoffs!” Kidd nodded firmly.
Nearly every Grizzlies player saluted Xu Ling, thrilled by exploding Anthony.
Iverson watched, eyes complex, silently chugged water.
So-called Golden Twin Guns: one overheated and jammed, the other sharp but unable alone.
Post-timeout, Nuggets’ morale clearly broken. Iverson still drove desperately, free throws keeping them alive, but Grizzlies fully rolling.
Last possession of half, ball in Grizzlies’ hands.
Kidd controlled the clock to the end; facing Iverson’s defense, a simple-looking crossover dribble with strong physique created half-body space, pull-up jump shot near free-throw line.
Buzzer sounded; Kidd’s frustrating buzzer-beater shot gave Grizzlies a 68-53 halftime lead.
