The return of Sabonis and the addition of Chris Mullin instantly provided Larry Bird with two pivots for his ball-handling strategies.
Neither of them has a career marked by a high number of assists—Sabonis’s best season only had an average of 3.5 assists per game, while Mullin’s was 5.
In terms of raw numbers, even the best seasons of both combined don’t match the assist numbers from Gan Guoyang’s season as the assist leader.
However, the statistic of assists can be somewhat misleading and deceptive, as an assist essentially is just the final pass before a score.
A strategy, from initiation to execution and finally conclusion, involves much more than just the last pass. Yet, only the last pass is counted statistically.
In fact, in a set offense, the first pass and second pass often play a more critical role than the final pass that results in an assist.
The first pass determines the trajectory of a tactical play: low post, high post, flank, or center—it plays the decision-making role.
The second pass embodies tactical adjustments: if the first pass goes low post, does it go back out to connect the inside and outside, switch from strong to weak side, or pass to a cutting player?
For a successful team tactical execution, the first two passes must penetrate the opponent’s defensive gaps, establishing a clear tactical path.
If the first and second passes fail, with most of the time consumed, the failure rate of the tactic will soar, necessitating the test of individual player skills.
Gan Guoyang’s high assist numbers mainly rely on his strong individual offensive power that attracts defenses and allows him to timely distribute the ball under double-teams, creating opportunities for teammates.
If a rule were to be set prohibiting Gan Guoyang from shooting during a game, his assist numbers would surely plummet—similar to Jordan.
Some players, like Stockton, also pose an offensive threat, but their passing often does not rely on their defensive attraction.
Before an offensive tactic initiates, they quickly think through the next move, decide which tactic to start, and then pass the ball to the right person to initiate the tactic.
Other players, like Bird and Pippen, are strong in the first pass and can quickly judge the next trend post-tactic initiation, using the second pass to adjust accordingly.
If Plan A fails, they can swiftly switch to Plan B, even finding unseen Plan C and D options amidst players, ultimately achieving Plan E with a stroke of genius to help teammates score.
This requires more than just accumulated experience and skill training; the critical element is that spark of talent, which cannot be learned.
With Gan Guoyang’s talent, his passing vision at best extends to Plan C—frequent toggling between Plan A and B already reaches the limits of his imagination.
Of course, for him personally, with his historically unparalleled offensive power, he doesn’t require so many passing options.
Too many options might actually interfere with his determination to attack.
For the Trail Blazers’ offense, lacking a primary and secondary passer, their attack inevitably became rigid and monotonous.
This weakness was thoroughly exposed in the West Finals, as the Trail Blazers’ offensive schemes were completely deciphered by the Jazz, with Gan Guoyang facing the most terrifying multi-man siege, and others unable to assist.
The arrival of Sabonis and Mullin not only bolstered firepower, defense, and experience but most importantly filled the functional gaps in the Trail Blazers’ tactical system.
During the halftime break in the locker room, Rick Carlisle again emphasized the key points of the "Flow Offense," including wing movements, baseline shifts, and vertical cuts.
Carlisle wanted to rekindle the Trail Blazers’ Princeton Offense genes. Last season, by the playoffs, the Trail Blazers’ offense could be described as rigid and crude.
He hoped his Flow ideal could be realized with the Trail Blazers.
A team’s offense would no longer rely on fixed tactical patterns, but instead under some basic principles, players would adapt based on defensive conditions and achieve a diverse array of collaborations.
This bears resemblance to the Triangle Offense, but while the Triangle Offense stresses positioning with strict formation requirements, Flow offers greater freedom and requires players to keep moving.
From this perspective, the Flow Offense is an upgraded version of the Triangle Offense.
Of course, tactics aren’t inherently superior just because they’re "upgraded"; it’s merely an evolution of ideas.
In the late 1990s, this tactical mindset did not align with the prevailing trends, as the entire NBA was moving towards extreme defensiveness.
In the 1997 NBA Finals, Jazz vs. Bulls, despite Jazz’s smooth team offense refined over a decade, at critical moments, the go-to move was still isolating for Karl Malone.
Especially when the series reached intensely hot phases, isolation with watching became the norm on NBA courts.
Though isolation is simple, it has a low error rate, a high tolerance for mistakes, and saves role players’ stamina for defense.
Last season, Larry Bird allowed Carlisle to boldly attempt this offensive idea, and finally saw progress by the end of the regular season.
Yet, come playoffs, as series deepened and opponents grew stronger, more of the Trail Blazers’ offensive resources concentrated towards Gan Guoyang.
The so-called Flow Offense naturally ceased to flow.
This new season, Carlisle continues to implement this system, and everyone holds some reservations.
Particularly the newly joined veterans, Mullin and Brellock, worry about their adaptability.