The second quarter began, and with no clear winner in the first, both teams were still holding their breath. The coaches on both sides made the same call—keep the starters on the floor.
Cousins took the pass and immediately backed down Griffin, who clenched his jaw and tried to absorb the contact. But Cousins, one of the league's top big men with his rock-solid frame, muscled out a sliver of space despite the tight defense. He spun into a hook shot, but DeAndre Jordan rotated over in a flash. The sudden help threw Cousins' form off just enough.
The ball bounced twice on the rim before rolling away. As the three big men fought for position, a pair of big hands snatched it out of the air. Mozgov, left wide open when Jordan rotated, leapt and hammered it back in.
"Oh my god! That's a brutal fight in the paint!" Barkley said, staring at the crowded lane. "You don't see much of this anymore. For a second, I thought I was back in the era of the four great centers."
With today's game favoring less physicality and more perimeter shooting, you rarely see so many giants packed inside, banging away at each other.
"I think I see what the Kings' coach is up to," Kenny said, rubbing his imaginary beard. "Malone wants to drag this game into a low-post slugfest. That way, Paul's impact is minimized, and with Cousins as the focal point, the Kings can eat up the Clippers' interior."
Right now, Cousins and Mozgov were locked in battle down low, while the guards and forwards stayed parked behind the arc. If a shot didn't go in, they'd sprint back on defense, giving Paul no chance to run.
In this grind-it-out pace, the Kings quickly erased the deficit and even took a 33–32 lead. Sensing trouble, Clippers coach Rivers called timeout.
"Paul, what's the move?"
Sitting on the bench sipping water, Paul shot Rivers a glare. Back when Rivers led the Celtics to a championship, his go-to line was supposedly, "Rondo, what should we do now?" Paul had always thought it was just locker room folklore—until Rivers became his coach. Now he wasn't so sure.
This guy really had no shame in asking. If Paul already knew all the answers, what was the coach for?
"It's fine. Let them keep going," Paul said, still annoyed but speaking his mind. "Cousins can't keep this pace all game. He'll run out of gas soon. They won't pull away, and I can rest and save my legs."
Sure enough, near the end of the half, Cousins was completely spent, gasping for air. The style was thrilling—but exhausting. Seeing him slow to a crawl, Malone subbed out Cousins and Mozgov. The Kings went into halftime up 55–50.
In the locker room, Malone glanced at Cousins, practically collapsed on the floor, and at Mozgov, in slightly better shape but too winded to speak. He shook his head—Rivers must have seen this coming.
Over in the TNT studio, the three analysts debated.
"Cousins has been incredible—carrying the offense almost single-handedly. Eighteen points and twelve boards in just one half. If he keeps this up, the Clippers are in serious trouble," Kenny said.
"I doubt it," Barkley replied. "That first half took everything out of him. He won't have enough left for the second."
When play resumed, Malone kept Cousins on the bench—ten minutes wasn't enough to get him back in shape.
The Clippers also split up the Griffin–Jordan pairing, leaving Griffin in while Jordan rested. In basketball, no tactic is perfect—they'd worn down Cousins, but Griffin and Jordan had burned plenty of energy too.
Crawford brought the ball up at an easy pace, skipped the screen, and unleashed a flurry of flashy dribbles that left LaVine reeling.
One of the NBA's all-time great sixth men, Crawford's streetball roots made him a top-tier scorer, and his elusive handles struck fear into rookies everywhere.
Before LaVine could react, Crawford spun past him, drove to the free-throw line, and rose for a jumper.
Swish! Nothing but net.
Watching the ball drop, LaVine's face was pure frustration. Three games into his rookie season, and he'd already been thrown against Curry, Lillard, and Paul—three of the league's toughest guards.
Still, it was a blessing in disguise. At Chen Yilun's suggestion, Malone had been deliberately testing LaVine's perimeter defense. In just three games, he'd already sharpened up noticeably against elite opponents.
The Kings took the ball the other way.
LaVine crossed half court, eyes locked on Crawford. He remembered Malone's words before the game: "Crawford's offense is elite, but defense is his weakness. Use your size and go at him."
Determined, LaVine pounded the ball, lowered his stance, and drove. Crawford read it and closed in, but one collision sent his thin frame sliding out of the way.
With the lane open, LaVine exploded toward the rim. Griffin was two steps away. LaVine gritted his teeth, launched high, and—before Griffin could close—threw it down hard.
Bang!
"Poster! Poster! Zach LaVine just put Griffin on a poster! This kid!" Barkley jumped to his feet. "A gorgeous slam—right on Griffin's head. That's a lock for today's Top 5."
Griffin, scowling, glanced at Crawford, who was rubbing his chest. They traded wry smiles. This kid had no chill—who comes at you that hard right out of the gate?
In a Sacramento bar, fans crowded around the big screen erupted. Beer splashed everywhere as they raised their glasses.
"Man, it's been years since I've seen the Kings play like this," said an old man in a baseball cap and gray beard, face flushed.
"Yeah. Ever since the new GM took over, every move's been a win."
"That's right—here's to our new hero from the East."
"To our hero from the East!"
Back on the court, Griffin was still fuming. LaVine's dunk had lit a fire under the Kings. The fatigue Paul had predicted never showed, and Jokić was lurking in the paint, ready for more post-up battles.
When the moment felt right, Chen Yilun activated the Three-Point Boost Card. He nodded at Malone, who instantly called timeout.
"Jokić, keep acting like you're posting up. Guards, stay ready outside—take the pass when he kicks it out."
Then he turned to Gay. "If the play breaks down, take your man one-on-one."
It was Malone's A/B plan. The Clippers' forwards weren't strong enough, giving Gay a good shot at isolation. Gay nodded and stepped onto the court—then scratched his head.
When had he stopped being the team's offensive focal point? Malone now seemed more focused on CJ's ball movement and developing the two rookies.
But Gay quickly shrugged it off. He'd never been the "lead guy" type anyway. Besides, he was the highest-paid player on the team—$19.32 million this season, nearly $6 million more than Cousins. Big contract, lighter responsibility—nothing to complain about.
And even with fewer shots, the system had boosted his efficiency, so his numbers hadn't dipped much.
In good spirits, Gay practically hummed as he took the floor, leaving Barnes, his defender, puzzled.
What's this guy so happy about? Barnes wondered. Are they setting him up for an isolation?
Competitive fire kicking in, Barnes glued himself to Gay.
Gay was equally baffled. I'm just here to coast—do you really need to guard me this tight?