Most NBA owners were businessmen.
Businessmen prioritized profit—whatever made money. This wasn't stereotyping; it was fact.
But a minority genuinely wanted to achieve something.
Mark Cuban of the Mavericks. Paul Allen of the Trail Blazers. Those kinds of people.
Even the Knicks' owner wanted championships.
After all, the Knicks were in New York—massive market. He made a fortune from the team every year.
Even when the Knicks hit rock bottom, their ticket prices were among the league's highest.
Many GMs were eyeing Yuuto.
This wasn't a deep draft, but the first and second picks were absurdly valuable.
Last year, Cleveland used the top pick on Kyrie Irving.
Irving had already shown All-Star potential this season. But if you put Irving in this year's class, where would he rank?
Definitely not number one.
At minimum, they wouldn't pass on Yuuto and Anthony Davis to take Irving.
...
"Guys, I'm tired of criticizing you. Really tired!"
In the locker room, Steve used classic aggressive motivation to fire up his players.
"I appreciate everything you've contributed over the years, but you need to step up when we need you!"
"I refuse to accept that some of the best players I've ever coached are a bunch of soft guys."
"North Carolina is strong, but we're UCLA—eleven-time champions! We're the Bruins! The best university in the world—bar none!"
"I'm keeping you in the starting lineup. Barring something unexpected, you'll play the entire second half. But remember: we're the Bruins. We cannot disgrace this jersey."
Steve was reasonably satisfied with the first half—after all, they were playing North Carolina.
But he still put on a "I'm not satisfied, we're way better than UNC, winning by just one is basically losing" face.
After saying all this, Steve finally diagrammed second-half tactics.
Finally—
Before the second half began, he roared: "The team that's going to survive and advance to the Sweet Sixteen is us—the Bruins!"
The locker room erupted.
Yuuto wasn't a fan of this American aggressive motivation style, but these guys ate it up.
From the start of the second half, the Bruins seemed possessed.
Their defense was ferocious—because Steve had told them to lock down defensively.
North Carolina's frontcourt had the clear advantage, but Reeves Nelson and Norman clamped down like mad dogs.
This attitude pleased Steve.
Defensive ability was largely determined by effort.
If they maintained this intensity all game, they'd force turnovers.
A North Carolina pass got intercepted. Yuuto sprinted past halfcourt.
The Bruins ran their action, pulling defenders away from Yuuto.
Yuuto isolated, then suddenly kicked it to Mosely during his drive. Mosely buried the mid-range jumper.
North Carolina responded.
Marshall looked one way and threw another, his eyes locked on Barnes while the ball went to Tyler Zeller in the post.
Zeller powered through Reeves Nelson for a two-handed slam, then let out a roar on the landing.
Reeves, his blood already boiling from Steve's speech, immediately chest-bumped him.
Naturally, both teams converged, talking trash.
Yuuto joined in too, pushing and shoving.
The refs quickly blew their whistles to separate both sides.
Just warnings—no technicals.
Back on offense—
Yuuto didn't pass this time. In situations like this, when emotions ran high, someone needed to stay calm.
And he was that person.
He accelerated toward the right baseline. North Carolina's defensive anchor John Henson immediately rotated over.
But—
Even the 6'11" Henson could only watch helplessly against Yuuto's devastating fadeaway.
Swish!
The shot dropped. The Bruins' momentum surged.
After such a heated exchange, this basket would massively boost team morale.
"Beautiful!"
"Just like that!"
"They've got nothing left! Keep the pressure on—watch their post-ups!"
Steve was fully invested.
Nobody wanted to reach the Sweet Sixteen more than him.
Because if they didn't, he was definitely getting fired.
Williams felt a bad omen rising within him. He told his assistant: "That Bruins number 10 doesn't look like a freshman at all."
Exactly. Not at all—he seemed like a veteran.
While everyone else was losing their composure, he stayed calm and kept scoring!
Riding this momentum, the Bruins delivered a spectacular defensive stand.
Reeves Nelson bodied Tyler Zeller, denying any approach to the basket, forcing a contested turnaround jumper.
The ball bounced off the rim.
UCLA fast break. Yuuto attacked to the free-throw line, spotted Mosely trailing.
No hesitation—a flick of his wrist, ball to Mosely.
Mosely caught it with time to set his feet. The three-pointer splashed.
North Carolina had to call timeout.
But Williams didn't have many adjustments left.
As a coach, his abilities were unquestionable.
Under his tenure, North Carolina consistently produced NBA talent—multiple lottery picks in championship years like 2005.
That year's UNC roster featured four lottery picks—more impressive than some superteams...
But under Williams, North Carolina had never produced a Jordan or Vince Carter-level superstar.
That was his coaching style.
His teams performed excellently—undeniable. But he wasn't invincible.
Once his team got suppressed or went through cold stretches, rarely did anyone step up to carry them forward.
He stubbornly believed every player was a cog in the machine, required to rotate in prescribed directions.
This inadvertently killed any possibility of players creating miracles.
Coming out of timeout—
North Carolina ran a set for Barnes.
But Barnes's tendencies were too predictable. Yuuto essentially played free safety.
John Henson came to set a screen for Barnes, but Yuuto anticipated it, slipping past a step early.
By the time Barnes caught the ball and rose to shoot, he realized in horror that Yuuto had never left his side.
The result of this North Carolina possession was predictable.
Barnes forced the shot. It missed again.
UCLA countered. Mosely returned the favor—pump fake into a pass to Yuuto, who attacked the paint for a vicious slam.
BOOM!!!
Yuuto tapped his wrist amid the roaring crowd.
The message was clear.
This was his fucking time!
The Bruins had gone on a run to start the second half.
The one-point margin had ballooned to eight, threatening double digits.
Commentators described UCLA as "a pack of red-eyed beasts."
Williams screamed again, furious at his team's defense.
They couldn't let the deficit reach double digits.
This possession was crucial.
But UCLA's defense was suffocating—even Reeves Nelson was clamping his man.
This Bruins team lacked talent but had excellent defense.
Yuuto, Norman Powell, and Mosely all possessed elite defensive ability.
And with effort, even their frontcourt could create problems.
North Carolina put their hopes on Tyler Zeller in the post.
But—
Yuuto's adjustments were complete. He'd completely decoded North Carolina.
Like a hunter who'd been waiting patiently, the moment Tyler Zeller pump-faked Reeves into the air and rose for the and-one opportunity—
Yuuto abandoned Barnes and materialized in the paint like a blue streak of lightning.
Smack~
"What?!"
Tyler Zeller's hands came up empty. He looked down and met Yuuto's eyes.
Those crimson-glowing eyes sent chills down his spine.
"What a spectacular steal!"
"Yu perfectly read North Carolina's offensive intentions!"
"UCLA on the break!"
...
Get 20+ chapters ahead on - P.a.t.r.e.o.n "RoseWhisky"