Champion Creed-Chapter 908 - 300: I just took my eyes off him for a second and he fell asleep!? (Requesting for monthly tickets!)

Chapter 908: 300: I just took my eyes off him for a second and he fell asleep!? (Requesting for monthly tickets!)

It looked like this shot would expand the Hawks’ lead to 13 points.

But just as Marion was about to accelerate with the ball, Rasheed Wallace grabbed his arm from behind!

Because Marion was sprinting full force when he was grabbed, the massive impact jerked his shoulder hard.

Wincing in pain as he held onto his shoulder, Marion swung a punch at Rasheed Wallace.

Marion knew full well that this was a deliberate foul that could cause injury to his arm or shoulder, and he absolutely couldn’t tolerate such a thing.

Although Marion’s punch didn’t land on Rasheed Wallace, the intense atmosphere of the game heated up further due to this conflict.

Players from both sides crowded together, shoving and shouting at each other.

"If you keep playing dirty, I promise I’ll make you bleed!"

"Ha, don’t just talk big, I could handle you with one hand! Hey, the guy who got stabbed 13 times, what are you bragging about? You want to set a new record and get stabbed 14 times?"

"If your skills were as good as your bragging, you’d probably be leading right now, wouldn’t you?"

"Get lost, don’t touch me with your filthy hands!"

Not just the players, even the coaches from both teams were fanning the flames.

Lenny Wilkens walked up to the referee and forcefully slapped the technical table: "That move could’ve injured Shawn’s arm, damn it, you should kick that bastard out immediately!"

Rick Carlisle responded sarcastically from the sidelines: "Ha, kick them out? With those standards, the Hawks wouldn’t have enough players left to play."

"Shut it, rookie coach, why don’t you scurry back to Indianapolis and keep kissing Larry Bird’s feet? You got a championship clinging to him, and then a position as an assistant coach thanks to him. Without ’mama’s’ embrace, what do you think you are? Hurry back and give Larry a nice back massage!"

"Sorry, I know you like kissing Roger’s feet, but don’t project your fetishes onto others." freёwebnoѵel.com

The fans were shouting, the coaches were arguing, and the players were pulling and shoving each other, creating utter chaos on the court.

Several referees urgently blew their whistles, using a firm attitude to end the conflict: "Calm down, don’t force me to throw you all out, don’t force me to give you technical fouls!"

In the end, Rasheed Wallace received a technical foul, maintaining his lead in this particular statistic.

The Hawks got a two free throws and possession opportunity, and Marion made both, expanding the lead to 13 points. If the Hawks scored again, the advantage would be 15 points.

The players of the Detroit Pistons would never let such a thing happen.

So this time, when Pierce broke through Hamilton, the long-distance runner intentionally charged and elbowed Pierce in the chest.

Pierce immediately stopped attacking and threw the ball directly at Hamilton’s head.

The two locked in a standoff, and Roger was the first to step up, grabbing their collars to separate them.

As the team leader, Roger felt it was necessary to show his stance now.

Seeing Roger grab Hamilton’s collar seemed to trigger something in Artest, who suddenly surged forward and forcefully pushed Roger away with both hands.

"Don’t make me teach you a lesson!" Artest glared menacingly, as if he had been waiting for such an opportunity to stir up trouble for a long time.

The voice in his head grew louder.

"Hit him back, hit him back!"

"Ron, I gave you a chance in the player tunnel, don’t forget." Roger poked Artest’s forehead with his finger.

Artest slapped away Roger’s hand angrily: "No, I’m giving you a chance. Touch one of us again, and I promise you’ll be put to sleep on the spot, you shelter-hugging softie!"

"You can try it, the whole world knows you’re the type who lies on the sidelines looking for protection after getting hit."

"Damn it, I must make you shut up!"

Artest edged closer with each step, but the referee’s timely intervention calmed everything down.

Lenny Wilkens, though equally furious, called a timeout trying to diffuse the tension.

But someone off the bench was even more agitated than the players on court.

Stephen Jackson kept shouting: "We have to beat them up, damn it, see what they did!? We have to beat them up!"

Hornacek, dressed in a suit, attempted to get everyone to cool down: "Don’t let those bastards get to you, they’re just trying to pick a fight because they’re losing. Do what we’ve got to do and leave this place, that’s it!"

"If they want a fight, let them bring it! I’ve had enough of these blue-shirted bastards!" Kurt Thomas said, rubbing his fists together.

It was equally lively on the Pistons’ side, even Michael Curry, the captain handpicked by Joe Dumars, took off his training gear: "We can’t let others bully us to the point of losing our dignity! Losing a game is one thing, but getting bullied to the point of losing our dignity is another!"

Michael Curry played a role for the Pistons similar to that of Haslem for the Heat in later years. He doesn’t have a dazzling career history, nor is he a big star, but he is an immense leader.

In such moments, as an old-school player, he certainly wouldn’t back down.

Thus, the situation did not calm down.

This timeout had only left both sides stewing like a pair of feuding lovers, just waiting for an explosion.

As the game resumed, the Hawks’ offense ended with Michael Reed missing a shot.

Artest took the ball on offense, and facing Roger’s defense, deliberately charged him, delivered a vicious elbow, then stopped abruptly and missed the jump shot.