You are the Pearl, Mo Mengchen

　　 That night, 21:00

　　 Triangle Center Arena

　　 "Dead, hybrids in Detroit!"

　　 A giant banner poster lay across the center of the striking arena.

　　 It stands to reason that the Pistons and Jazz do not have any intersection, except for the regular season.

　　Because these two teams are in the east and one in the west, they have to fight against each other in the finals, but the Jazz fans are extremely hostile to the Pistons.

　　 This matter is not surprising. At that time, Ma Long gave the smiling assassin an elbow, which made the two sides form a feud.

At that time, the Pistons were the public enemy of the league. The daily life was simple. The unhappy Utah fans played a little more. It was originally an ordinary violence on the court. The contradiction between the players. They stunned this matter. It became difficult to resolve the death feud.

　　 "This group of Mormons who have dogs!"

　　 Alan Houston was standing in the middle of the field, looking at the dazzling poster. His position was so striking-damn, it was rare to see such a poster on the road. Why did he add such words on it?

　　 "As I say, these gangsters of Utah are not so scary to be **** by them. Something, somehow..." Terry Mills was also very depressed.

　　Because of that poster, his big fat head actually appeared exceptionally prominent.

　　 Tonight, there were some distinguished guests on the scene, and several of them did not dare to neglect Larry Miller, the owner of the Jazz.

　　Miller came to the VIP box in person, entertaining these rare guests with delicious food.

　　 "The fans at the scene are not very friendly." Little Dura is the only junior on the scene and the only one who is interested in the game. The other few don't care about the result.

　　 Miller smiled lightly: "Utah is like this. Fans are usually bored. When there is a little bit of catharsis, they can't wait to burst out. Our ball market is quite hot."

　　 Well, in such a hot ball market, 1 million jersey ads are sold every year.

　　 Little Dura vomited in her heart, still smiling.

　　 "It's just that such a battle can certainly inspire the home team, but it's not good for the team's publicity."

　　Miller stared cautiously at the blond woman sitting in the right seat. The beautiful women all had thorns. Then the rich and beautiful woman, how sharp should her thorns be?

　　 "You make sense, Mrs. Poser." Miller smiled.

　　Mo Mengchen and his teammates, including their opponents, do not know how honorable guests are sitting in the VIP box.

　　Stockton saw Mo Mengchen, Sloan gave him a death order, and tonight stared at the rookie.

　　He felt that before staring him to death, he came to say hello.

　　 "Mo, hello."

　　 Stockton held out his hand.

At any time, Mo Mengchen is very resistant to shaking hands. Even if they are about to play together, the body will constantly rub and exchange dirt on each other, but this does not mean that he can accept an unknown hand. .

　　 "Handshake is free."

　　Mo Mengchen didn't give Stockton a face.

　　 Stockton is unsmiling, even if the junior in front of him is slow, he never said: "Very good."

　　 As soon as his voice came out, an unpleasant breath rushed out of his mouth. It was hundreds of years without brushing his teeth?

　　 "The game is about to start, I look forward to the match between John Stockton and Dor. Mo." Keton Wilton, the on-site commentator, said.

　　His partner, Darrell Griffith, who has played for the Jazz every year in the player era, is unhappy: "In fact, it is very simple. John will use his experience to kill the Detroit Australian rookie."

　　 "Oh? Why do you say that?" Wilton really wanted to hear the insights of the famous Jazz.

　　 Griffith said: "From the data point of view, Detroit's Australian rookie and John are players of the same style. His rebounding ability is better than John's. All other aspects are at a disadvantage."

　　 Downwind? you sure?

　　Wilton just wanted to refute a little bit and get some effects out of the program, but Griffith's face was too ugly, and it was a good idea to think about it.

　　Mo Mengchen entered the field with his teammates. Tonight, the Pistons' other four starters were Hill, Houston, Thorpe and Ratliff, who temporarily replaced Terry Mills.

　　 Recently, Ratliff has shown the potential of the future block king during training. The protection of the penalty area is in place. Collins wants him to try to feel on the field.

　　 Ratliff and Mills have the same problem, they are not tall enough.

　　 Therefore, whenever they need to jump for the team, the teammates around do not expect them to get the ball in their hands.

　　 This time, it is still the case.

　　 Jazz starting center Felton Spencer jumped up and called the ball to Stockton.

　　 The pick-and-roll came very quickly. The first round tonight, the Jazz played their classic pick-and-roll.

　　Mo Mengchen followed in his footsteps, and Ratliff gave Spencer a chase after Stockton. He did not expect Spencer to have a range.

　　 Stockton sent him a comfortable blow to the earth. Spencer made a free throw jumper and hit the iron directly.

　　Mo Mengchen grabbed a rebound and stuffed Hill while traveling. No one was more reliable than him at this moment of conversion counterattack.

Hill is like a raging horse running through the grassland. No one can tame it. One hit two in the frontcourt. Jazz's wing shooter Honacek fouled him, and it still didn't work. Devil's Mountain had already jumped, and his wings were spreading like birds , Turned into a deity.

　　 At this moment, he was the **** in the air, grabbing the ball with his right hand and smashing it frantically towards the basket.

　　 "Wow~~~"

　　 Little Dura stood up directly in the box and shouted, "Grant Hill is hanging!"

　　He made Miller very embarrassed like this: "Jie Kun, don't be excited, the game will start. Our team also has someone who can deduct."

　　 "Haha, is it? Who?" Little Dura asked.

　　 "Darrel Griffith, nicknamed Dunk Monster!" Miller's proud look embarrassed the people behind him.

　　Boss, Griffith retired in 90 years, now a full-time narrator!

　　 Stockton has severe bad breath, which is bad news.

　　 The good news is that he doesn't spray garbage like Miller's, or he will be smoked before a game is over.

　　Speaking of Stockton, people will think of reasonableness, as well as the assist data and steal data he dominated.

　　 He is a perfect traditional point guard, a favorite of all rigid academic coaches.

　　Sloan like the old stubborn who likes to use the player as a robot, but also regards Stockton as their natural choice.

Jazz’s pick-and-roll system has followed, and Mo Mengchen recently studied this, but he is very strange. Only Filton Spencer has come up to block the opening to the present, let alone the pick and roll, and a decent cover. nothing.

　　 Suddenly, Malone dragged his sturdy and unreal body into Thorpe, and his back was in position.

　　 Stockton hoisted the ball over, and in an instant, the cat lowered his body and cut into it. When Mo Mengchen was about to move, his position was stuck.

　　 "Change defense!" he shouted.

　　Ratcliffe's speed did not keep up, Stockton slipped to the basket, received Malone's pass, and directly licked the basket to score.

　　 "Attention needs to be improved~www.readwn.com~Rookie." Stockton sprayed **** to Mo Mengchen.

　　 "Yeah, it's terrible," Houston said with a smile, "Our doctor was actually educated."

　　 Hill said: "Yes, don't stimulate him."

　　Mo Mengchen was not angry. It was Stockton's psychological battle. He would not be fooled. In turn, he passed the ball to his teammates.

　　 Thorpe beat Malone low.

This year's Malone has the best defensive lineup of defensive ability. Old Thorpe is no longer young and has difficulty in scoring Malone. He has been trying for more than ten years to suppress people by playing small hooks. , And now it shows a spicy-eyed San Bu Zhan.

　　 "beep!"

　　 missed the attack, Thorpe was not in a hurry, a local foul stopped the Jazz's counterattack.

　　 "Sorry." Thorpe said.

　　 "Is it an accident, or is it really impossible to move?" Mo Mengchen asked.

　　 Thorpe knew he was going to listen to the truth, so he told the truth: "I am not sure about my singles right now."

　　 "Understood." Mo Mengchen nodded.

　　 Stockton came very fast, he never entangled, nor would he stick the ball in his hands for a better chance.

　　Malone had just passed the paint area, he made a small angle, extremely fine short-range pass to his hand.

Compared with Thorpe’s three non-sticks, Malone’s offense was much happier. The iron elbow opened the road. He knocked Thorpe down at home and sat at home. The referee showed no sign of his offense. Then he turned over with a straight arm jumper. Steady.

　　 "Yes, John and Carl opened the connection twice, they quickly found the feeling!"

　　 "Like the poster," Griffith said, "Detroit is going to die here tonight."

　　 His face was still stinky.