After the timeout, the Rockets' pace naturally slowed down.
There was no other choice—if they kept playing at their original tempo, Bickerstaff feared the Kings would completely seize control of the rhythm. Better to make a change than sit and wait to die.
So the Rockets began shifting their approach. The number of pick-and-rolls increased, and their offense stopped being the simple, brute-force attack it had been before. They started to structure their plays more carefully.
"What a pain…"
Harden glared at Butler, who was glued to him like a shadow. The guy was like a mad dog—never stopping, never backing off.
If it were pure one-on-one, Harden had no doubt Butler couldn't truly stop him.
But being unable to stop someone and being able to annoy them defensively are two different things.
Butler clung to him like a piece of stubborn tape, not giving him even a second to breathe.
"So damn annoying."
Even the normally calm Harden was starting to lose his patience.
He spun to shake Butler, slipped past him, and—before he even had his footing—floated into a drifting jumper off the glass.
"Man, that's accurate."
CJ watched the miracle shot drop through the net and couldn't help but whistle in amazement.
"How's he still answering back like that?"
From the sideline, Chen Yilun muttered under his breath.
"What are you waiting for, Coach? You think this is the time to keep holding back? What—waiting to lay an egg or something?"
Hearing Chen Yilun's teasing, Malone realized he'd been too conservative. He quickly signaled a new play.
CJ, seeing the cue, instantly understood.
After crossing half court, Jokić set a quick off-ball screen and then rolled straight into the paint.
"They're changing the formation?"
Bickerstaff immediately sensed something was off as he watched the Kings' spacing shift.
Just as he feared, the Kings cleared the floor and handed the ball to Durant on the weak side for an isolation.
Durant caught the ball, and for a moment, he looked almost emotional.
Finally—space to work with! I've been dying out here!
Without a second's hesitation, he faced Ariza head-on. After a series of crossovers, he pushed forward against him.
Ariza was still one of the better defenders in the league, but against someone like Durant—a walking mismatch—it wasn't enough.
Durant absorbed the contact, rose up smoothly, and drilled the pull-up jumper.
"Here we go!"
Chen Yilun leaned back comfortably, instinctively reaching for Tang Zhou's popcorn—only to realize Tang Zhou wasn't on the team anymore. He retracted his hand awkwardly.
"The Ultimate Post-Up Show begins!"
You had to hand it to whoever coined the term Whale Shot—genius. How could anyone come up with such a perfect name?
While Chen Yilun was enjoying himself, Bickerstaff covered his face in despair.
"It's over. Completely over."
Once Durant took over the offense, all defensive effort was meaningless. Against a weapon like that, all you could do was pray he went cold.
But after being held back all game, there was no way Durant was letting this chance slip.
He shot, drove, facilitated—dominating every aspect of the Kings' offense.
Play after play, Durant reminded everyone why he stood alone as the league's premier scorer.
As the lead widened, Harden grew anxious.
After a Kings miss, Anderson grabbed the rebound and passed it to Harden.
The Beard burst into a sprint toward the frontcourt.
Seeing him push the pace, the Kings immediately scrambled back on defense.
Amid the chaos, Harden reached the top of the key—and froze.
His defender wasn't CJ anymore. It was Durant.
Durant grinned at him.
"Come on, little bro. Show me what you've got!"
Logically, Harden should've passed or set up the offense.
If Durant was defending him, there had to be mismatches somewhere else.
But Harden, for all his calm exterior, had pride just as fierce as anyone's.
He smirked at Durant's challenge—then went right at him.
He started his trademark "stir-fry" dribbling routine along the perimeter.
Unlike the flashy but aimless moves you see in streetball, every motion Harden made had a purpose.
He chained crossovers, direction changes, and quick shuffle steps, compressing Durant's defensive space bit by bit.
Durant read the rhythm and backed up half a step to keep space between them.
At that instant, Harden planted his left foot forward, feinting a drive.
Durant shifted his weight backward to react—
—but Harden suddenly pulled the ball back, took a step back, then another.
"Double step-back jumper!"
Chen Yilun shot to his feet, eyes wide.
This was the Harden move—his signature. The move that would one day make him one of the league's elite scorers.
But as Harden released the shot, Durant's enormous wingspan came into play.
Though fooled at first, his freakish athleticism let him recover in a split second.
He stretched those long arms out, and at the very last moment, his fingertips brushed the ball.
The touch was so faint the cameras barely caught it—but for a shooter like Harden, even the smallest disturbance was deadly.
"Clang!"
The ball bounced off the rim.
On the very next play, Durant posted Harden up again and scored easily.
Those two sequences summed up the entire game.
Durant completely overwhelmed Harden on offense, and whether in starting strength or bench depth, the Rockets simply weren't in the same class as the Kings.
In the end, the Kings successfully defended their home court.
"You've found yourself some great teammates," Harden said afterward, walking over to chat with Durant.
Watching his teammates head for the locker room, Durant felt a wave of emotion.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "They're really something."
"Man," Harden said with a thoughtful smile.
"I really think you've got a shot—to finish what we brothers couldn't back then."