Champion Creed
Chapter 682 - 682 237 The butterfly effect is really interesting Vote for me in monthly tickets!

682: 237: The butterfly effect is really interesting (Vote for me in monthly tickets!) 682: 237: The butterfly effect is really interesting (Vote for me in monthly tickets!) For fans, this was a game to be remembered forever.

Allen Iverson scored 50 points against Roger’s 61 points in a single game.

Two Reebok spokesmen combined for an astounding total of 111 points in one game.

The last time something similar happened was back in the data-joking ’60s when Wilt Chamberlain scored 78 points vs.

Elgin Baylor’s 63 points.

By the way, they also grabbed 43 and 31 rebounds respectively…

Within basketball-related stats, perhaps only a careless author accidentally writing a game’s score as 1110 points is more preposterous than what those two achieved.

In NBA history, there have only been 5 instances where players from both teams scored at least 50 points in the regular season, and Roger and AI claimed one of these occasions.

It was undoubtedly a great feat, a historical feat of greatness.

But tonight, Allen Iverson also found himself with 50 points and a sense of inferiority.

He was soundly trounced by Roger, and his proclamation of scoring champion seemed utterly ridiculous after this game.

A scoring champion isn’t just a strong scorer, but the strongest scorer.

AI can say he’s a fierce scorer.

But as long as Roger is around, he can never claim to be the scoring king.

Reebok must be really troubled now, for, at last, Roger laid his hands on AI.

It was an inevitable confrontation, as AI grew stronger, he was bound to challenge Roger sooner or later, and Roger was never soft on challengers.

Now that AI has been thoroughly decimated by Roger, how will Reebok continue to maintain his image?

Well, Roger is the scoring king, so maybe they can call AI the deputy scoring king?

Does that sound much better?

As Iverson walks off the court, Roger glances back at the stands.

The Smith couple is having a spat.

“Will, why won’t you let me talk!” Jada Pinkett Smith wrests her hand free from her husband’s grip.

“Enough!

Isn’t tonight embarrassing enough?

We come all the way to Atlanta, taunt Roger live on national television, and then he scores 61 points right in front of us!

Come on, go back with me!”

“No, that jerk shows no respect!

You let him yell at me like that?”

“What do you want me to do, go up there and slap him?

Let’s go!”

“Damn, I bet even if I’m messing around with another man at home, you won’t react, you coward!”

Will Smith doesn’t want to argue with his wife in public; it’s just too humiliating.

So, he retorts angrily, “You’re right, you guessed it, I might even bless you two!

Are you happy now?

Can you go now?”

Some words are spoken without thought, but taken with heart.

The ordeal of the Smiths is why fans from other places seldom come to Atlanta to watch games.

Because the watching experience here is truly terrible.

It’s only ever suitable for neutral fans and home fans.

As the Smiths leave amid their noisy quarrel, Bill Walton again shows his sense of humor: “If you’re a fan of any other NBA team, never come to Philips Arena.

Influenced by Roger, the average ticket price at Philips Arena is the second highest in the league, only behind New York.

Away fans might as well spend that money on paper planes and see how far they can fly them into the ocean.

Trust me, at least that would bring you joy.”

After all the 76ers have left, Roger stands on the court with his hands on his hips, as the last man standing in this brutal boxing match, to be interviewed at courtside.

“Roger, what does breaking the scoring record mean to you?”

“It means it’s going to be harder to break the record next time.”

“Next time?

Isn’t 61 points already your limit?”

“My limit depends on how strong my opponent is.”

Roger doesn’t look one bit like a man who has just scored 60 points; he might as well have scored 16.

After the interview, Roger heads towards the players’ tunnel.

At the tunnel entrance, he signs autographs for the fans patiently as usual.

Gisele Bundchen once again confirms something— he is truly a good guy.

Inside the players’ tunnel, Hawks owner Ted Turner comes up and hugs Roger: “This is simply a perfect home opener, Roger!”

Ted Turner is very happy; his most frequent go-to place used to be Turner Stadium, and his favorite team to watch was the Warriors.

But now, Philips Arena has become his second home.

By Ted Turner’s side, there stands a lean, tall man with a buzzcut, even surpassing Roger in height, looking like a basketball player.

But his face doesn’t match any player in the NBA.

He smiles and nods at Roger, and Ted Turner introduces him: “This is my friend Mr.

Mikhail Prokhorov, a basketball enthusiast from Russia, the owner of the PBC CSKA Moscow.

Of course, he is also one of our season ticket VIP customers.”

“Hello Roger,” says the tall Mikhail Prokhorov with a Russian accent as he greets Roger and shakes his hand.

Roger remembers who this guy is, the Russian billionaire owner who bought the New Jersey Nets in 2010 and moved them to Brooklyn.

His approach to running the team is simple and brutal— splashing the cash.

Just like the fellow Russian Roman Abramovich did with Chelsea, Mikhail Prokhorov doesn’t care about the luxury tax in the NBA, he proudly holds the banner of money-driven basketball, creating a team models after “Galacticos.” Having achieved great success with his hometown CSKA Moscow, he wanted to play a simulation management game in the NBA for fun; he cares only for the game, not the revenue.