029: I Only Need to Ensure They Fear Me

Alberto Herreros, with his modest statistics, was leading the team in his own way. The gloom that had hung over the Catalan nights was being washed away, one victory at a time. Antonios Fotsis still complained occasionally, though less frequently. He and Lynch were still like strangers, but at the very least, they were no longer at each other's throats. And when the Greek focused on his role, to be honest, he was quite brilliant. After all, he was the guy Real Madrid had spent 4.5 million on. Luis Bullock would still occasionally lose his mind and take wild shots, but on the whole, he maintained order because he couldn't afford to disrupt the team's winning trajectory. Everyone was improving, and only Alberto Herreros had sacrificed himself in the process. His numbers were getting worse, and some in the media even suggested he should move to the bench to make room for the younger players.

But *Marca* stood up to say a few fair words for their captain. "You cannot quantify a captain's influence with data. That is why I love basketball—because you cannot tell which player is most useful based solely on statistics. Data is helpful, but only to a certain extent. Look at Amar'e Stoudemire in Phoenix; he puts up twenty or thirty points a night, but he messes up time and again on the defensive end, handling every switch clumsily. No one around him improves; he cannot create shots for anyone, nor can he contribute anything to the defense. You cannot say his role in Phoenix is greater than Alberto’s role at Real Madrid. Our captain is a great player, and you would know that if you watched his games. People love data, but in the end, the championships are always won by teams led by those who give their all on defense, sacrifice personal success, and keep the entire team unified."

At the press conference, Alberto Herreros looked at the *Marca* article, smiled, and shook his head at the reporters' praise. "Don't believe a word of it; I'm not that great."

"Captain, what result do you hope for this season?"

"The championship. The more we win, the better."

"You will achieve that wish," Lynch chimed in from the side.

At first, no one cared about the young man's bluster. Even fewer knew that the gears of fate had already begun to turn with Lynch's declaration. On a cold December night, when Real Madrid defeated the Argentine-led Baskonia at the San Pablo Arena in Seville to win the Copa del Rey, people realized with a shock: damn, this kid wasn't joking!

Alberto Herreros hadn't expected the thing Lynch promised would come to pass so quickly. Baskonia had a well-rounded and powerful roster this year; they had even taken down Barcelona in the semifinals. Unfortunately, their overall system was countered by Real Madrid's defensive scheme. It was the same old problem: Baskonia’s team offense couldn't get going, and their most reliable closer, Luis Scola, found himself constrained under Lynch’s defense. It was a problem as unsolvable as asking whether "looks or body type" mattered more.

When the game ended, "The Diamond" was quite helpless. He had a chance to end the game in the final moments, but three consecutive missed isolation attempts ruined everything. "Sometimes the game is just like this; no matter what, we have to accept the result. Lynch is great; he might be the best defensive player in the entire ACB League." Luis Scola felt helpless but also fortunate. At least they had only met Real Madrid in the Copa del Rey final—that was still better than meeting them in the ACB League Finals.

Lynch hoisted the Copa del Rey trophy; it was the first time the Real Madrid basketball department had lifted the trophy since 2000, and the first championship of Lynch's professional career. Yet, Lynch’s victory speech was very simple.

"Madrid, you know this is not the end! We haven't won all the championships yet, and most importantly, we haven't made those Catalan bastards tremble!"

As the regular season continued, Barcelona suffered through injuries; George Faca and Dejan Bodiroga joined the Swiss national team one after another. Therefore, when Real Madrid took their revenge on Barca at the Vistalegre Arena, Lynch wasn't excited. That wasn't the real Barcelona; he wanted to fight them at full strength.

The constant injuries also affected Barcelona's record. By the end of the regular season in late March, last season's champion, Barcelona, finished only third with a 23-11 record, while Baskonia came in second at 28-6. Real Madrid topped the table with a 29-5 record, and Lynch was named the ACB League MVP without any suspense.

After the playoffs began, Real Madrid maintained their dominance, sweeping their opponents 3-0 in the first two rounds (all ACB playoff series are best-of-five). A depleted Barcelona was eliminated by Baskonia 3-2 in the second round. After knocking out last season's champions, Luis Scola, who advanced to the finals, almost cried. Was he moved? He was too scared to move. Because Lynch was back, goddammit!

A strange, twisted fate had brought them together again. In the first game of the Finals, as Luis Scola walked onto the court, he saw Lynch smiling and greeting him. "Luis, I don't know why, but the more I look at you, the more affectionate I feel."

Scola didn't feel any affection for Lynch; that smile, in Luis Scola’s eyes, was as terrifying as Jack Nicholson in *The Shining*. He felt like a helpless boy pulled into the embrace of a 45-year-old woman, knowing exactly how tragic the events to follow would be.

His feelings were right. The Argentine forward was dominated by Lynch again, scoring only 8 points the entire game. Every time Luis Scola posted up against Lynch, Lynch would shout things that made him physically uncomfortable: "Oh, harder boy, harder, come on!!!"

Real Madrid easily took the first and second games. In the third, they were on the verge of winning the championship, but they encountered a fierce stand from Baskonia. In this do-or-die game, Prigioni and Nocioni went berserk from three-point range, hitting many heavily contested shots.

In the final moments of the game, Real Madrid trailed by 2 points. Baskonia's intense desire to survive led them to play perfect defense on that possession. With 8 seconds left on the shot clock, Teodosic ran a pick-and-roll with Lynch, but Prigioni miraculously navigated the screen to get in front of Teo, meaning Nocioni didn't have to switch and stuck to Lynch. At that moment, Teodosic saw a figure in a dark blue away jersey cut to the right corner and heard a shout: "Give me the ball!"

Teodosic sent the ball over almost by reflex. The receiver was Alberto Herreros. The man who had always sacrificed his shots and stats to make the team better became "selfish" at the critical moment. He caught the ball with only 1.7 seconds left on the clock. The Lithuanian guard Arvydas Macijauskas, who was defending him, lunged out half a beat too late, but still managed to create interference.

The moment his wrist flicked, the red light from the timer flooded the arena. Under everyone's gaze, the ball fell slowly. When the net made the sound of judgment—"swish"—Herreros threw a punch, grabbed the Real Madrid crest on his jersey, and roared. The sweat droplets flying off him turned into golden stardust under the spotlights. This captain, who had been content to fade into the shadows of statistics, finally let his dormant killer instinct pierce the heavens. He just wasn't obsessed with stats, but that didn't mean he lacked the bloodthirsty soul of a professional player or the responsibility of a captain!

The Spanish commentator’s voice was nearly shredded: "The Real Madrid captain has all but killed the game! Baskonia trails by 2 points and has no timeouts left. With only 5 seconds on the clock, do they have a chance!?"

The Argentine legion, of course, would not give up. In international play, it wasn't as if Manu Ginobili hadn't completed such buzzer-beaters after sprinting the full length of the court without a timeout. Although this Argentine legion playing in Spain lacked the "Manu-blade," their conviction remained firm.

Baskonia quickly inbounded the ball. Prigioni streaked past midcourt like an arrow leaving a bow and passed to a cutting Luis Scola. The Diamond was great. But a diamond is a diamond, and a "Manu-blade" is a "Manu-blade." Scola caught the ball and took a long stride into the air—but Lynch’s palm arrived immediately after, swatting the ball heavily into the stands. Game over.

Luis Scola had goosebumps all over; he had never encountered such suffocating dominance in his career, never felt such fear of being completely controlled by another person. Lynch walked behind him and whispered, "Jump higher, baby." This became a spell the Argentine heard in his nightmares for the next three nights.

The buzzer echoed throughout the arena. Real Madrid swept Baskonia 3-0 to win the 03-04 ACB League championship with an undefeated playoff record! Herreros, who had wounded Baskonia with his shot, and Lynch, who had killed them with his block, embraced tightly. Herreros's eyes were red; as captain, he had finally led this team out of the quagmire of failing to even make the playoffs last season.

"Well done, Lynch, well done!"

Lynch rubbed Herreros's bald head: "Don't be in such a hurry to cry; it's not over yet."

"What?"

"We are still one short of the Triple Crown."

At the awards ceremony, the whole team congratulated Lynch for winning the Finals MVP. The 17-year-old youth already held the Copa del Rey, the ACB regular season MVP, the ACB championship, and the ACB Finals MVP... In the vast history of European basketball, there have been countless superstars who carved out their own territories. But Lynch was the one and only person to have achieved all of this at 17.

And he was only one thing away from completely sweeping Europe. There was still one opponent he had to defeat. That perfect, arrogant, powerful opponent who had once sent him into a slump.

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"Yes, I decided to start Melo in the playoffs. Over the past 82 games, he proved that he has turned from a boy into a man. He now knows how to defend correctly, knows how to pass to his teammates, and knows when to unleash his isolation talent. He is great, and our goal is the championship!" — Larry Brown, when asked about Carmelo Anthony, revealed a gratified smile.

"Although Melo and the Pistons only won 58 games and failed to surpass the Pacers as the number one seed in the East, yes, I am still willing to mention Melo and the great LeBron as the two kings of the East." — LeBron James's mouthpiece, David McMenamin, commented this way about the non-playoff bound LBJ and the second-seeded Melo.

"Hello, Lynch, congratulations on winning the ACB League championship tonight. How does it feel?"

"It's great."

"Are you satisfied? After all, no one in history has been as young as you and yet already holds so many honors."

"Moderately satisfied. It would have been better if we had defeated Barcelona."

"Speaking of Barcelona, because they were eliminated early, they actually walked out of their injury quagmire. Dejan Bodiroga has vowed to defend the European championship. *El Mundo Deportivo* states that your 'crude basketball' will be utterly defeated by the true art of basketball. What is your opinion on this? Do you think the Spanish Derby will happen in the EuroLeague?"

"Of course it will happen; we will definitely make the finals anyway. As for what *El Mundo Deportivo* says, Catalonia is indeed a kingdom of art, but they seem to have forgotten that art also bows before power. As for my opinion, I agree with Caesar: I don't care if my enemies curse me; I just need to make sure they fear me."

— Lynch in an interview with *Marca*.