056: The team drafted him just for me to mentor him!

Stephon Marbury was a man dogged by bad luck, his professional career forever shrouded in the shadows of two historically great point guards.

During his final season in New Jersey, Stephon Marbury led the entire team in BMP, while his other eighteen teammates all posted negative numbers in that metric.

Yet once Jason Kidd transformed the foundation of the franchise with his all-time great defensive capabilities as a point guard, Stephon Marbury suddenly looked like garbage.

In Phoenix, he had also once led the Suns to the playoffs. But because Amar'e Stoudemire was ruled out for the season last year, the Suns' record plummeted, and Stephon Marbury—widely branded as a cancer—naturally had to take the blame for it all, leading to his banishment to New York.

This year, the Phoenix Suns welcomed Steve Nash, and together with Stoudemire and Mike D'Antoni, they played at a historically great offensive level, turning Marbury once again into a foil that highlighted someone else's legend.

Stephon Marbury certainly lacked the ability possessed by Jason Kidd and Steve Nash to completely alter the destiny of a franchise, but that only proved he was not as strong as those two legendary guards, merely signifying that he failed to rank among the historical greats at his position.

An ordinary All-Star naturally could not compare to a legendary superstar, but that did not mean an ordinary All-Star was utterly worthless.

A cruel twist of fate had intersected his trajectory with the glorious paths of two superstars, and when he returned to his new home bearing the double-negative stigma of public opinion, New York showed him zero tolerance.

Now, fortune finally smiled upon Stephon Marbury.

Because the savior of his professional career had materialized right before his eyes.

After being shaken to the floor, the Knicks' number 3 was not broken by the pressure once again; he fearlessly dribbled the ball forward. This time, facing Nash, Marbury did not call for a pick-and-roll, choosing instead to isolate and physically overwhelm the Canadian.

As a walking museum of dribbling, Stephon Marbury could blow past ninety percent of the league's guards without needing a screen. The moment he punctured the heart of the paint and forced Stoudemire to abandon his assigned man to provide help defense at the rim, the Suns' defense was effectively dismantled.

In a flash of lightning, Marbury dished the ball, the orange sphere tracing a precise diagonal line straight toward Lynch, who was waiting at the baseline.

The truly terrifying aspect of Lynch on the offensive end was that he possessed a shooting range far greater than players like KG and Stoudemire, while also retaining a beast-like ability to attack the rim that forwards like Dirk Nowitzki lacked.

If Lynch had received the ball in the midrange, Amar'e Stoudemire could have quickly recovered using his elite athletic ability and defensive instincts.

Yet when Lynch caught the ball outside the baseline three-point line, Stoudemire could only stand a step away from the arc and sigh in despair.

"Bucket! Lynch's first three-pointer of the night, and his touch is warm. Wasn't a forty-point warning on opening night enough? Leaving him space to shoot is practically a crime! Do not leave him alone anywhere on the court!"

Doug Collins of TNT was right; nobody should be left alone anywhere on the court.

But Amar'e Stoudemire clearly failed to heed that advice, and for the remainder of the first quarter, Lynch tortured the Suns with his mid-range and long-range shooting.

Stoudemire's defense relied far too heavily on instinct and intuition; to him, defense simply meant finding a way to swat away whatever the opponent shot. His understanding of defense was no different from a dog's understanding of sex—purely instinctive with zero thought.

Whoever held the ball would draw his habitual rush, leaving him completely oblivious to the fact that the most dangerous offensive threat was standing right beside him.

Thanks to Amar'e Stoudemire's defense, Lynch racked up fifteen points in the first quarter alone.

Compared to European players who failed to stop Lynch mostly due to sheer lack of ability, the rock-bottom level of basketball IQ and general intelligence displayed by NBA players completely shattered Lynch's perception.

Now Lynch finally understood why David Stern no longer permitted high schoolers to enter the draft; if there were too many fools like Stoudemire around, the NBA would sooner or later turn into a joke.

No matter how foolish Mike D'Antoni was, he could clearly see where the problem lay. During the interval, he let out a furious roar directly at Stoudemire: "What the hell is your job description?! I honestly thought you were here to fix the air conditioning, because you didn't stop your assignment even once the entire first quarter!"

Mike D'Antoni altered his strategy, instructing Stoudemire to stick to Lynch's side like glue for the rest of the game and never wander off.

On the other side, Lenny Wilkens had already anticipated the adjustments made by the Italian mustache: "Their defensive chain is already broken. Lynch, keep occupying the attention of the Suns' interior defense. From here on out, their rim protection will be extremely weak, and the paint is our backyard. Gentlemen, let the league's number-one offense experience our offense! Attack the rim! Attack the rim!"

Stephon Marbury took a deep breath, knowing that he would soon receive plenty of opportunities to drive to the rim, and he intended to give the Phoenix fans a show.

Yet the thorns woven by public opinion still coiled tightly around him; if he took too many shots, he would once again be branded as a cancer.

You could not expect Stephon Marbury to shake off his inner demons overnight, and at times he still found himself wavering amidst the pressure of public opinion.

Noticing that Marbury seemed somewhat dazed as they took the court, Lynch passed by him and left behind a single sentence.

"Pass when you should pass, score when you should score. I'll set screens for you, and we'll beat the living daylights out of that Canadian and completely strip away his dignity. Stop putting on an act, you've wanted to do this all along, haven't you?"

Those words sounded like a demonic whisper, causing Stephon Marbury to clench his fists tightly.

As soon as the second quarter commenced, Stephon Marbury delivered a heavy blow straight to the Canadian.

He took Lynch's screen and drove directly into the paint. Stoudemire, preoccupied with guarding Lynch, chose not to hedge. Marion attempted to protect the rim, but Kurt Thomas wedged his body firmly behind him; the man who last season despised Marbury the most used his steel-forged frame to carve out a bloody pathway for the Lone Wolf.

Just like Lynch, he harbored no personal grievance against Marbury. As long as Marbury wanted to win just as badly, Kurt Thomas didn't mind serving him.

A one-handed slam dunk reminiscent of a rocket launch—when Marbury sprinted at full speed in a straight line, his elevation often exceeded people's expectations.

The mocking expressions in the stands of the America West Arena morphed into sheer terror, and the Lone Wolf tasted the sweet flavor of blood.

His body swayed slightly while hanging from the rim, beads of sweat rolling down his tightened muscles. When he released his grip, the sound emitted by the rim was like the crisp snap of some broken shackle.

To hell with public opinion; I'm going to smash your idol to pieces!

Throughout the remainder of the second quarter, the 风之子 (Son of the Wind) essentially transformed into the punching bag that the Coney Island prodigy used to pummel in his room as a child.

He had zero answers for Marbury's penetration; aside from an occasional steal to save face, all he could do was watch helplessly as Marbury scored with ease. The rippling white nets punctured repeatedly recorded the pathetic, stumbling recovery runs of Nash.

Nash wanted to retaliate, but Lynch severely limited the power behind his punches.

Of course, Lynch could not completely suffocate this Suns team; no team in NBA history could entirely suffocate this version of the Suns.

However, Lynch's presence severely restricted Phoenix's offense, at least neutralizing Amar'e Stoudemire as a terrifying focal point.

Whenever Nash attempted to activate Stoudemire with a roll-man pass following a pick-and-roll, Lynch extinguished the flame with a defensive radius that blotted out the sky. Facing Stoudemire's beast-like alley-oop threat, Lynch's precise positioning and anticipation turned what should have been a slam into a comical, missed layup.

Nash landed a few light jabs on Marbury, but Marbury responded every single possession with sweeping Russian hooks, knocking him flat on his back time and time again.

The fans in the America West Arena wore looks of utter despair as Stephon Marbury's scoring skyrocketed.

It looked as though he was pinning that long-haired fellow to the floor, beating him until blood splattered everywhere.

Every single punch filled Stephon Marbury with exhilaration, and every single blow marked a step in his rebirth!

Mike D'Antoni was undoubtedly an accomplice to this, refusing to believe that Stephon Marbury could dismantle their offense, and thus stubbornly insisting on focusing his defense entirely on Lynch.

This stubbornness created a bloody tragedy.

By the end of the third quarter, Stephon Marbury had already poured in 28 points.

Looking at the battered Nash and the silenced Phoenix fans, the sweet taste of revenge spread through his entire body.

Marbury raised his head to glance at Lynch—who had spent the second and third quarters setting more screens than taking shots, encouraging him to tear Nash apart—and silently made up his mind: he would walk through fire for him, and he would never repeat the mistakes he made back in his youth in Minneapolis. This time, he would never let the obsession of a lone hero ruin a victory.

The Knicks entered the fourth quarter holding an 11-point lead, only for Steve Nash to chip the deficit back down to single digits with a heroic three-pointer.

Marbury ran the pick-and-roll once more, only to find himself confronted by Amar'e Stoudemire's help defense.

The Suns had altered their defensive strategy, assigning Shawn Marion to guard Lynch while deploying Amar'e Stoudemire to patrol the paint.

Marbury did not stubbornly force his way through the hurricane of defenders; seeing the paint protected, he spun outward, dribbled the ball back toward the perimeter, and dragged Stoudemire out of the key.

Lynch seized the opportunity to cut toward the basket, and Marbury, while facing away from the rim, whipped the ball backward. The basketball performed a dangerous waltz across his fingertips, its rebound trajectory fitting precisely into Lynch's sprinting stride as he delivered a flawless no-look, behind-the-back bounce pass straight to Lynch!

Marbury's passes had always carried a heavy Coney Island streetball flair, never shying away from extravagance.

Catching the ball, Lynch powered up through traffic for a dunk, leaving Shawn Marion entirely helpless.

Discarding his style from the second and third quarters, the Lone Wolf began to showcase his passing brilliance once he altered the opponent's defensive structure.

He fed Lynch for dunks, hooked up Kurt Thomas for alley-oops, funneled ammunition to Grant Hill cutting into the lane, and dished assists to Allan Houston.

Try as they might, the Phoenix Suns could only struggle desperately on the life-or-death precipice of a double-digit deficit.

In the end, that margin held until the final buzzer.

115 to 107. The New York Knicks and the Phoenix Suns had engaged in an offensive shootout right in the heart of Phoenix.

Lynch finished with 31 points, 14 rebounds, and 2 blocks, while Stephon Marbury contributed 28 points and 12 assists.

Prior to this matchup, Nash and Stoudemire were widely regarded as the league's most lethal pick-and-roll duo.

After tonight, however, whether they were truly number one had to be met with a massive question mark.

***

"Stopping Amar'e Stoudemire was the easiest assignment I've received from Lenny since entering the NBA." — Lynch responding in his post-game interview to Stoudemire's pre-game remark that "Lynch can't stop me either."

"I'm just glad I beat a Nike endorser while wearing twenty-dollar sneakers." — Stephon Marbury during his post-game interview, pointing to the Starbury logo tattooed on the back of his head.

"I had two blocks as well; why does everyone keep saying my defense isn't as good as Lynch's?" — Amar'e Stoudemire drawing roars of laughter from reporters at the press conference.

"When I was nineteen, I didn't know anything. Back then, I played basketball purely out of love. The Timberwolves were a team built on ambitions of a dynasty, but I was only nineteen, and I didn't want to live in Minneapolis. I thought that by changing scenery and leaving KG, I could still play the exact same way and still win. I went where I wanted to go, but I never got the chance to win again. Now I'm no longer naive; I will follow in Lynch's footsteps and assist him in creating greatness. The Knicks drafted him precisely for me to assist him. Oh, he is practically my God." — Marbury, eyes reddening with emotion at the press conference after poking fun at Nike.

(Special thanks to patrons Lin Lin, Lao Mei Zhu Jiu, Tian Cang Ren, Oath of Victory Sword S, I Want to Wake Up and Rule the World, Sitting Alone by the Sea Watching the Sunrise, and other generous supporters. Deepest gratitude!)