At the end of the game, Gan Guoyang saw Pat Riley and PJ Brown shaking hands, quietly chatting about something on the sidelines.
Riley really wasn’t even pretending anymore—I bet he’s already plotting to poach someone from the Trail Blazers, to lure someone away from Gan’s side.
Back in the locker room, Gan Guoyang asked PJ, "What did that bastard Riley say to you? Did he hope you’d come to Miami this summer?"
PJ Brown looked a bit embarrassed and said, "Uh... no, Sonny, he just asked me a simple hi."
Gan Guoyang said, "That guy must have had an agenda. But to be honest, if he’s willing to offer you a big contract, you should really milk him for it. Don’t be soft-hearted."
PJ said, "I would rather stay with the Trail Blazers."
"I want you to stay too, but money’s more important, you fool, don’t be stupid."
"Sonny..."
"No more talking, just focus on the game, because for now, you’re still a Trail Blazers player."
PJ Brown nodded firmly, as a professional player, he still had the basic spirit of dedication.
Gan Guoyang knew well that without a new contract, Brown wouldn’t risk it all in games.
The risk of injury is higher for inside players, and if a catastrophic injury occurs during a matchup, he’ll lose his financial future in his contract year.
The highly anticipated four giants vs. Ah Gan battle turned into a saga that ended before it began due to injuries and other factors.
After the game against the Heat, the Trail Blazers moved on to Orlando, Charlotte, and Atlanta to complete this Eastern tour.
The Trail Blazers took a bus directly to Orlando.
The Magic swiftly fell when they lost Shaquille O’Neal; during the 1995-1996 season, the Magic were a 60-win top-tier team in the league, just short of the time, experience accumulation, and a bit of luck needed for a championship.
If the Magic could have kept O’Neal, with him and Anfernee Hardaway as the core duo, inside and outside, unimpacted by injuries, they would compete for the championship in the next three to five years.
Yet, the foolish Magic management and inexplicable Orlando fans drove O’Neal away—Shark moved to Los Angeles, and the Magic quickly became a playoff fringe team with only about 40 wins.
Anfernee Hardaway remained an All-Star caliber player, but without O’Neal, he couldn’t support the Magic alone.
As a guard, Hardaway didn’t have that superhuman physique like Michael Jordan.
Whether it’s scoring output, defensive commitment, or attendance, he fell short compared to Jordan at the same age.
Most critically, Hardaway began facing injuries; after missing only 5 games in the first three seasons, he had already missed over 20 games this season—it’s a terrible sign.
O’Neal’s departure caused a series of chain reactions—the team’s performance declined, Hardaway had to play more minutes and take on more pressure, leading to health issues.
His absence due to injury further worsened the team’s performance, creating an unstable team environment and causing discordant voices to rise.
Then, something happened within the Magic, fully illustrating the changing times, with the relationship between coaches and players undergoing further changes.
In the 80s, as superstar players rose, some high-profile players began to stand up against coaching authority.
For instance, Mark Aguirre nearly quarreled with Dick Motta daily during his time with the Mavericks.
Ultimately, Aguirre confessed that Motta was a good coach, and despite their conflicts, they managed to work together for many years.
During that era, players like Gan Guoyang, Magic Johnson, and Jordan had the power to get their coaches fired if they weren’t happy.
But they always chose to communicate with management and the owner to express their dissatisfaction, applying pressure from above to achieve their goals.
By the late 90s, circumstances had evolved; players began to have greater autonomy and self-awareness.
With the Magic’s poor performance, team morale worsened, and the Magic players held a closed-door meeting amongst themselves.
Just a few days after the All-Star break, the Magic lost an away game to the Timberwolves, and 13 Magic players gathered in Hardaway’s hotel suite for a meeting, expressing their views on Hill one by one.
Embracing the spirit of democracy, they conducted a formal vote through parliamentary procedure, with a 12-1 vote, unanimously deciding that the head coach must be dismissed.
The only dissenting vote came from veteran Horace Grant, who believed that even if head coach Hill was coaching poorly, players shouldn’t rebel against coaches like this; it should be management deciding their fate during the offseason.
But the remaining players, led by Anfernee Hardaway, outlined Hill’s three major offenses:
1. Failing to prevent O’Neal from leaving the Magic.
2. Not establishing an imaginative and creative offensive system.
3. He made me, Anfernee Hardaway, the superstar, unhappy.
To be honest, these three charges were somewhat bewildering.
O’Neal’s departure was not Hill’s decision; it was the foolishness and failures of the management and the entire city’s fans.
Moreover, each person has their ambitions; if O’Neal was determined to leave, no one could stop him. You as O’Neal’s good partner should have tried to stop him first.
The second point is laughable; in the league environment of 1997, having an imaginative offensive system was almost impossible.
The entire league leaned towards defensive and confrontational styles, ensuring that imagination had only a weak survival space—defense was fundamental.