032: The Young Leader

Maceo Baston, the most formidable defensive frontcourt player in the EuroLeague and the record-holder for single-game blocks, found his talents worthless in front of Lynch.

Lynch was not the stepping stone for his return to the NBA; he was the roadblock.

He could guarantee that Lynch was the type of player who, upon joining any NBA team, could immediately alter the course of that franchise’s destiny.

As Lynch once again crushed him with a thunderous dunk over his head, the American forward's mental defenses crumbled. He felt nervous; he sensed that Lynch’s rage would destroy him. Panicked, he raised his hands, sweat clearly visible on his forehead under the bright arena lights.

"Hey, Lynch, you know I have nothing against you. I didn't say those things before the game to provoke you, okay? If that made you feel offended, then I was wrong, all right? I wasn't trying to provoke you, man."

Lynch simply shook his head. "You don't know you were wrong; you just know you're about to die."

As this judgment-like declaration fell, Maceo Baston felt his fate had been sealed.

Baston was a dead man walking, but Maccabi was clearly not destined to fall just yet. As Dejan Bodiroga had anticipated, both sides were trading blows. During a defensive possession for Real Madrid, Louis Bullock allowed Jasikevičius to break through again. Facing Lynch's help defense, Jasikevičius once again found an open Anthony Parker cutting to the rim.

The aging Herreros struggled to keep up with Parker’s off-ball movement, and the powerful Anthony Parker leaned directly into Fotsis, finishing through contact. Fotsis was not adept at rim protection; his presence at the five-spot was primarily for offensive considerations. Most of the time, it was Lynch who relied on his own mobility to take on the rim-protection duties.

But today was different. The offensive threat posed by Jasikevičius forced Lynch to focus all his energy on him. Trying to defend both of them? That would require Lynch to run at full speed on every single possession. No one defended that way, as it would take a toll on the offense. Today, Lynch was being hounded by both Maceo Baston and Anthony Parker, and he needed to conserve energy for his own offensive duties. Yes, Lynch possessed the stamina inherited from Moses Malone, but even Malone wasn't the kind of protagonist in an American art film who could keep going endlessly without fatigue.

Throughout the entire first quarter, neither side could gain the upper hand.

The Spanish commentator shook his head repeatedly. "In a sense, Lynch is single-handedly holding up Real Madrid’s defense. Without him, the Madrilenians' perimeter defense would be completely vulnerable."

It was true; apart from Lynch, the Real Madrid players were either too short or too slow on the defensive end. The only thing they could do was stay focused, pressure their opponents, deny shooting opportunities, force them to drive, and then rely on Lynch’s help defense. But Lynch, after all, could not be in two places at once.

Therefore, this Real Madrid team struggled against opponents with multiple strong perimeter threats. Barcelona was exactly that, with their offensive trident spanning from the point guard to the small forward positions. Maccabi was similar; though they only had two main threats, they still posed a massive challenge to Madrid's defense.

By the end of the first quarter, Real Madrid trailed by 5 points.

In the stands, some Barcelona fans who had come specifically to witness Madrid’s defeat began shouting from the front rows:

"The European crown will always belong to Catalonia!"

"Are we afraid of you? Afraid you'll cry and throw a tantrum after you lose?"

"Step it up, Šaras! Take down that bastard who insulted Barça; that's your duty!" (Jasikevičius had also played for Barcelona).

Louis Bullock, already incensed by the Barcelona fans earlier, could no longer hold back. He stood up and engaged in a shouting match with those yelling behind him: "Shut your mouths, assholes! If this were in America, you wouldn't be able to walk out of this arena tonight!"

"If this were in America? Should I tell you why you aren't in America? Because you're a loser! A waste of space that the NBA didn't want, tossed aside after the preseason!"

Louis Bullock exploded. "Motherfucker! Son of a bitch! Don't hold me back! I’m going to kill him!"

The impulsive American tried to climb over the railing to confront the Barcelona fans, but others quickly restrained him. Otherwise, this would have been nothing short of a remake of the "Malice at the Palace."

Antonis Fotsis leaned back in his chair with a disdainful sneer: "Stupid American. His brain runs on nothing but adrenaline; nothing but impulse."

Louis Bullock was already furious, hating the fact that he was tall when lying down but short when standing up. If he were just a bit taller, Jasikevičius wouldn't be able to do as he pleased. If he couldn't do as he pleased, Lynch would be liberated. At this critical juncture, Fotsis’s snide remarks were like adding fuel to the fire.

The fire indeed spread quickly. Louis Bullock turned and roared: "What the hell are you barking about!? Is your rim protection even any good? Anthony Parker is ravaging you like you're a Spanish whore!"

The Greek center’s pupils contracted sharply. His veins bulging, he grabbed Bullock by the collar: "Dwarf, this is the last time you disrespect me!"

The broadcast cameras greedily focused on the Real Madrid bench, refusing to miss the spectacle. It seemed as if the farce of the "Catalan Night" was about to play out once again.

Just as everything was about to spiral out of control, everyone heard a loud "BANG."

Lynch slammed his fist against the back of a chair. "Enough! Shut up, all of you! I'll lead us to victory!"

The entire team stared at Lynch, speechless. Lynch turned his gaze toward Julio Lamas. "I need to put all my energy into defense. As for the offense..." Lynch glanced at Fotsis and Louis, who were currently grappling with each other. "These two bastards have the ability to take on more of the load. I believe in them."

Antonis Fotsis let go, suddenly feeling ashamed. That kid, whom he had looked down upon, remained focused on winning. What was he, a former Greek League MVP, doing?

Lynch then patted Louis Bullock on the shoulder. "Lou-is," Lynch articulated each syllable as if tempered between his teeth, "Stay calm, Louis. Not just now, but stay calm on the court as well. Don't you dare suddenly lose your mind and throw up wild shots. I will create opportunities for you; put away those hot-headed pull-up jumpers!"

If there was anyone in this locker room Louis Bullock was willing to listen to, it was Lynch, who had been protecting his back all season. The way Lynch looked at him now made him nod almost reflexively.

"Fine."

Julio Lamas was astonished. In a professional sport where statistics were paramount, the young man before him was willing to sacrifice his own individual stats to exert more effort on the defensive end, all for the sake of the team's victory. Most importantly, he was attempting to lead this group of people! He didn't just want to be the best individual player; he wanted to be a leader who could guide his team to victory!

Julio Lamas paused for a few seconds, but this was no time for daydreaming. He immediately grabbed the tactic board and reorganized the offense.

On the other side, Maccabi head coach David Blatt was also preparing to initiate his "strangulation" plan. "Guys, collapse the defense. No need to drag this out; let's end this early."

Soon, the second quarter began, and both teams returned to the court. Real Madrid was on offense, and Maccabi’s twin stars, Baston and Parker, locked onto Lynch like hawks. The former engaged Lynch with tensed muscles, while the latter kept a sharp eye out, ready to collapse for help defense at any moment.

When Lynch cut to the basket, Maccabi collapsed quickly. As long as they could limit Lynch, Real Madrid would be finished. But then, something incredible happened.

In a flash of lightning, Lynch pivoted and stopped with the grace of a phantom, his broad back turning into a moving wall that precisely screened off the defender chasing Fotsis. After cutting into the paint, Lynch didn't call for the ball; instead, he set an off-ball screen for Antonis Fotsis!

The Greek big man slid out of the encirclement like a fish, darting toward the three-point line. Before Maccabi’s defense could react, Fotsis caught a perfectly timed pass from Louis Bullock and released a three-pointer with textbook form.

"Swish."

"It's good! Antonis Fotsis! His three-pointer narrows the gap to just 2 points, with an assist from Louis Bullock. Can you imagine it? They were practically killing each other on the bench just moments ago, and now they've pulled off a perfect play!"

The Greek smiled with satisfaction, and Louis Bullock high-fived Lynch.

In the stands, Lakers international scout Antonio Marcellas recorded: *A simple three-pointer, but no one realized this was the beginning of Real Madrid’s transformation. This kid is more than just a genius; he has the potential to be a leader. When Lynch is willing to become a tactical fulcrum rather than just a finisher, no one will be able to stop him from sweeping through Europe.*

Jasikevičius intended to make up for the points lost on the previous possession with his own offense, but as soon as he approached the three-point line, Lynch moved up to meet him. Together with Louis Bullock, they stood like two crossed blades, sealing off the perimeter. Lynch pressured Jasikevičius directly outside the arc!

The Lithuanian, seeing Lynch's defensive intensity, felt victory was within his grasp. *How can he maintain this level of defensive intensity for 40 minutes? And besides, how can he protect the rim?*

Jasikevičius feinted an attack, and after drawing Lynch toward him, he passed the ball to Baston. Baston took a long stride, preparing to dunk, but a large hand snatched the basketball right out of the air!

Lynch had exhausted himself moving on defense, sprinting from Jasikevičius to the paint to complete the swat! He seemed to have no concern for energy management, throwing his entire being into the defense.

Baston broke out in a cold sweat. Gazing at the back of the number 10 jersey as he clamped the trophy firmly in his palm, that declaration of death echoed in his ears once more: "You just know you're about to die."

"Damn that defensive coverage area!" The Lithuanian gritted his teeth, his jaw muscles clenching.

Lynch threw a long, tacit pass to Louis Bullock, who had already sprinted to the front. Though he was timid on defense, he was always the first to charge on offense. Receiving the ball, the American guard scored an easy layup, tying the game.

The team’s defensive strategy was clear: Lynch would expand to the perimeter to pressure Jasikevičius—the one player who could take over the game if he got hot—giving him no room to operate. Then, he would rely on his mobility to provide help defense against anyone else cutting to the rim. This required Lynch to consume a massive amount of energy on defense and sacrifice his own offense. But this was exactly what Lynch himself had proposed.

The game continued. On this possession, Jasikevičius tried to launch a quick three-pointer before Lynch could close out. He bent his knees and released the ball, but Lynch, who had been standing quite far away, lunged forward. With his reach and vertical leap, he swiped the basketball out of the air and onto the floor!

When Lynch landed, Jasikevičius’s index finger was still frozen in its follow-through, as if he were a beast caught in a block of amber.

"Maccabi can't even get a shot off!" the announcer roared.

When Lynch defended with everything he had, this damn defensive coverage was even more terrifying than the Lithuanian had imagined. Louis Bullock finished another fast break, and Real Madrid took the lead.

Lynch wiped the sweat from his chin with his wrist, then spread his arms wide, staring at the entire Maccabi team with a look of fearless determination. "Keep pushing, guys! We still have to go beat those Catalan bastards; we can't fall here!"

"ROAR!" the whole team responded.

He stood there like a giant net that no one could break through. He stood there like the spine of Real Madrid, supporting everything.

Watching the number 10, who seemed to blot out the sky, a hint of unease flickered across Jasikevičius’s fierce face. He suddenly asked Baston a question: "What is your single-game block record?"

"Eight. Why?"

Jasikevičius didn't answer, just kept his eyes fixed on the number 10. Baston understood everything immediately. If Lynch kept defending like this, his record was about to become history.