Champion Creed
Chapter 831 - 831 278 The Disappearing Boss Seeking Monthly Tickets!

831: 278: The Disappearing Boss (Seeking Monthly Tickets!) 831: 278: The Disappearing Boss (Seeking Monthly Tickets!) In the future, no media or fans will hype up the 2001 NBA Playoffs’ first-round victory of the Orlando Magic.

Though both took down an arrogant powerhouse team in the first game, the Magic’s win wasn’t like the one where AI beat the Lakers in the original timeline.

AI’s game became legendary not just because he defeated the undefeated Lakers in the playoffs, but also because he continued to play like a hero even in the four games he lost afterward.

The black-clad Philly Ranglers were overwhelmed by the gold-armored Lakers cavalry, yet he didn’t back down but carved a bloody path through, never yielding to anyone until the very end.

Even the critical Larry Brown remarked after that finals series: “Allen Iverson is such an incredible fighter!”

This is why AI’s victory is so cherished; the focus isn’t just on the win itself but on his resilience in defeat.

Orlando Magic clearly didn’t have this quality.

They won one game against the Hawks, but in their losses, they had no resilience, only misery.

Tracy McGrady early gave up in the second half, Larry Hughes held on a bit longer, but still didn’t come close to being called a “fighter.”

The 51-point loss left nothing but humiliation for T-Mac and Larry Hughes, no trace of glory.

The day after the game, T-Mac was still chewing gum, staring at the hotel ceiling.

Larry Hughes still sat next to T-Mac, holding a newspaper.

Everything was no different than after the first game ended.

Larry Hughes pointed to the big “51” in the newspaper: “Tracy, damn it, I’m embarrassed to even step out of the hotel!

It’s ruined, all ruined!

No more Victoria’s Secret for us, from now on, if we want that kind of thing during this time, we’ll have to spend a little money!”

Larry Hughes recalled how furious he was before when he read the newspaper prediction that the Hawks would win G2 by at least 20 points.

But now, Larry Hughes thought: if only they could lose by just 20 points.

T-Mac, bleary-eyed, glanced at the newspaper: “It’s all over, Larry, let’s go, we’re heading back to Orlando.”

T-Mac felt this was humiliating, but it wasn’t a catastrophe.

He was still an All-Star, still the son of Orlando, still a max-contract player.

None of that would be changed by this 51-point loss.

Which also meant that the idea of learning from shame to forge ahead wouldn’t happen to the Orlando Magic.

T-Mac was still too young; he always felt his career had just begun, always thought he had more opportunities.

It’s just the first round of the playoffs, after all, he’d break through eventually.

Surely, he couldn’t be stuck in the first round for a lifetime, right?

Roger did say that line, “You and Tracy might never know what the second round looks like in this lifetime,” but that was just trash talk.

So, why care so much?

The next two games were in Orlando, and the Magic moved tranquilly.

They lost one by 23 points, and another by 20 points.

Roger didn’t break his promise; he said they’d win by 20 points, and they did—no less.

3 to 1, the Atlanta Hawks, despite dropping one game in the first round, still showcased terrifying dominance.

The Magic Team lost by an average of 31.3 points across three games.

This completely overshadowed the dim light of the first victory.

Experienced friends know, killing someone is easy, what’s hard is dealing with the corpse.

Similarly, for the first in the division to beat the eighth is easy, anyone can do it, but to display such extreme dominance is truly rare.

After the game, Roger had returned to being the Roger that T-Mac was familiar with.

The murderous intent in his eyes had dissipated, his tone turned gentle: “Keep working hard, Tracy.”

“Good luck to you next time, Roger.

Damn it, you don’t even need luck.”

“Hahahaha, you know me well.”

The series ended, and T-Mac changed into his clothes in the locker room, ready to start his vacation.

Just as he got in the car, T-Mac’s phone rang, compelling him to pull the handbrake again.

As expected, the caller was Kobe.

T-Mac had long guessed it was him.

“What’s up?”

“How do you feel?

Still think Roger’s a good guy?

I told you, you don’t understand him at all.”

“Really?

I still think he’s pretty good.”

“You’re such a pervert, I never knew you liked being treated that way.”

“Roger just wants to win, that’s all.”

On this topic, T-Mac and Kobe were speaking entirely different languages.

In Kobe’s eyes, the fact that “Roger wants to win” was utterly outrageous.

How can he win against me?

If he wins against me, then what do I win?

But to T-Mac, all those brutal moments and trash talk from Roger were only to win the game.

If I lose, I lose; anyway, I’m still young.

“You’re hopeless, Tracy.

Do you know why you keep losing?

Because you don’t care about losing.”

“Kobe, you talk like you’ve beaten Roger; haven’t you been losing too?”

T-Mac said this casually, purely as a quip to a good friend.

His thoughts had long flown to Disneyland, flown to the golden coast of Miami.

But Kobe’s response was unusually serious, even somewhat angry: “This is the last time you tell me I haven’t won.”

With that, Kobe directly hung up the call.

T-Mac looked at the ended call and shrugged.

How could Kobe feel justified in calling Roger a bastard?

He’s just like Roger himself.

T-Mac liked Kobe, liked him just like he liked Roger.