A Crushing Defeat

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The next night at Hinkle Fieldhouse.

The game between the Bulldogs and Purdue was already 16 minutes into the first half, but Hinkle Fieldhouse, which had been abuzz with excitement over the past five games, had now fallen silent.

Butler fans stared at the big screen overhead with disappointment. There were no cheers, no shouts. From time to time, someone would raise their hands, ready to celebrate a basket, only to drop them with the sound of the ball hitting the rim.

On the sidelines, Liam Gonzales' face was also dark with frustration.

He frowned, pacing back and forth on the sideline with his arms crossed over his chest, exuding a chilly aura that warned people to stay away.

The reason for all this disappointment was reflected in the real-time score displayed on the big screen—45:28. The visiting team was ahead, and the home team trailed by 17 points. The Bulldogs, who had won the past five games, were being dominated by Purdue University!

In the previous five games, the Bulldogs had never trailed by more than 5 points in any game.

Bang!

Curry missed another open three-pointer, and Purdue took advantage of the opportunity to counterattack with a layup.

47:28. The score gap was about to exceed 20 points.

Butler fans let out a collective sigh, while the few Purdue fans in attendance cheered ecstatically. Their dark black T-shirts stood out in the vast sea of light blue that filled the arena—the color of Purdue's away jerseys.

Liam's frown deepened, but he couldn't say anything. After all, these were the tactics he had set, and Curry was executing them perfectly.

Purdue's defense wasn't particularly effective in locking down Curry, and he managed to find good scoring opportunities whether he had the ball or was moving off-ball. However, something strange had happened. Yesterday, Curry had performed normally in training, but today, he seemed completely out of sync and missed many shots.

It was as if a lid had been placed on the rim. Even when he took a wide-open three-pointer with no one within three meters of him, the ball would still hit the front of the rim in a ridiculous manner.

Bang!

Curry drove the ball, used a pick-and-roll to break past Purdue's center, but someone had already rotated to help defend. Curry pulled up for a shot from the free-throw line, but the ball clanged off the rim again.

Drew and Campbell fought hard under the basket, but Purdue secured the rebound.

Curry shook his head in frustration, feeling immensely guilty, and raised his hand to indicate that the missed shot was on him.

The disappointment on Butler fans' faces grew even more pronounced, but they didn't boo. Instead, there were sporadic cheers of encouragement.

With the confidence built over the past five games, the fans still believed in the team and in Curry. Otherwise, given the fiery temperament of Indiana fans, boos would certainly be filling the air by now.

But the fans' support couldn't change the outcome on the court. At the end of the first half, the Bulldogs trailed Purdue by 18 points at 34:52. Fortunately, the gap didn't widen to more than 20 points, preserving a shred of dignity.

Liam walked into the players' tunnel first with a grim expression. Each player on the Bulldogs followed carefully, not daring to breathe too loudly.

Meanwhile, the head coach of Purdue University smiled broadly and hugged each of his players. There was laughter and celebration on the visiting team's bench as they headed to the locker room.

In the home team's locker room, Liam stood at the front, watching the players enter and take their seats. There was no sound in the room except for heavy breathing and the slurping of energy drinks. The atmosphere was heavy and tense.

"Cheer up, everyone, and keep playing like this in the second half," Liam suddenly said.

The players looked up at him in surprise. They had braced themselves for a storm of criticism.

Liam had unleashed the NCAA version of the "hairdryer" several times during training.

"Why are you all looking at me like that?" Liam smiled. "You executed the tactics well; there was just a minor issue with the final step. Stephen, don't hesitate—shoot with confidence. I believe you'll find your rhythm again."

This wasn't the Staples Center, and Liam didn't believe Curry would end up shooting 0-for-10 from three-point range.

"I understand, coach," Curry nodded, although he was still somewhat shaken after so many missed shots.

The 15-minute halftime break passed quickly, and the second half began.

The Bulldogs had the ball. Curry found a brief opportunity to shoot after coming off a screen. He kept Liam's words in mind, looked up at the basket, and faked a shot.

But the memory of missing every shot in the first half cast a deep shadow over him. He hesitated for a moment when raising his hand, giving his defender time to contest. When Curry finally took the three-pointer, he was disrupted, and the ball bounced off the rim.

Liam shook his head in disappointment on the sideline but clapped and shouted:

"Stephen, keep shooting! Believe in yourself!"

Stevens approached him and whispered, "Liam, do you want to make some adjustments? Stephen doesn't look like he's in good form."

Liam hesitated for a moment but shook his head:

"He just hasn't found his rhythm. A few more attempts should do the trick."

"But we're already 21 points behind. We don't have time for him to find his rhythm," Stevens frowned.

"Let's give it a bit more time. I trust him," Liam insisted.

Stevens could only shrug helplessly and return to his seat.

But reality often diverges greatly from expectations. As the second half continued, Liam's expression became more and more somber.

Curry never regained his rhythm.

Initially, Purdue was still diligently guarding Curry, not wanting to give him any open looks. But as he continued to miss shots, their defense relaxed.

Now, with only 3 minutes left in the game, the Bulldogs were down by 21 points, 48:69. The game was effectively over.

Liam had no choice but to sub out all the starters, conceding the loss.

Curry looked deeply frustrated as he walked off the court. "Coach, I'm sorry. It's all my fault."

"This was just a fluke. You need to be more decisive next time. Remember, you're a shooter—never doubt your shot." Liam patted him on the shoulder.

"Yeah!" Curry nodded firmly.

During the post-game interview, a reporter asked Liam:

"This is your first loss since taking over. Do you have any comments?"

"No one can win forever. Losing is normal. We just need to adjust and win the next one," Liam replied calmly.

The reporter, seeing nothing more to ask Liam, turned to Curry:

"In this game, you took 26 shots but made only 7 of them, including 3 of 15 from three-point range, scoring only 17 points—your worst performance in the last six games. Do you have any thoughts?"

Curry was about to answer, but Liam interjected:

"He just had an off night, that's all. Next question."

"Stephen, you were 2-for-10 in the first half, yet your shot attempts decreased in the second half instead of increasing. Why didn't you pass more to your teammates?" the reporter pressed.

Again, Liam answered for Curry:

"I instructed him to keep shooting. He was following my tactics."

"Coach Gonzales, why did you decide on that strategy?" another reporter asked.

"A shooter needs to shoot to get back in rhythm. I believed Stephen would find his stroke eventually, but unfortunately, we dug too big a hole to climb out of," Liam explained.

"Can I infer that you have blind faith in Stephen Curry?" the reporter asked pointedly.

"I wouldn't call giving the ball to the NCAA scoring champion 'blind faith,'" Liam replied slowly.

"Coach Gonzales—"

The reporter wanted to continue, but Liam stood up and left, leaving her mid-question. Curry gave the reporters an awkward smile and quickly followed him out.

Liam walked into the players' tunnel and found Stevens waiting at the corner.

"Why did you leave before finishing the interview? Aren't you worried those reporters will twist your words?" Stevens raised his eyebrows.

"We just lost one game, and those vultures started to swarm, questioning my tactics and setting traps for Stephen. I'm not interested in dealing with them," Liam said angrily.

Stevens laughed. Liam, who had always acted experienced and composed, suddenly looked a bit like the young coach he was.

The two walked out of the arena in silence.

It was already 10 PM. The Bulldogs had lost badly, and the fans were in no mood to celebrate after the game. They had gone home, leaving the area outside Hinkle Fieldhouse deserted.

"What do you think about what those reporters said?" Stevens suddenly asked.

"What?"

"The questions they asked Stephen."

"Did you hear them all? They were just spouting nonsense. Stephen was just in a slump today, but they wouldn't let up. Just wait and see—they'll definitely go crazy attacking me tomorrow," Liam snorted disdainfully.

"I think they had a point," Stevens said calmly.

Liam's eyes widened in surprise:

"What did you say? You also think my tactics were wrong?"

"That's right—you shouldn't have given Stephen so many shot attempts in the second half," Stevens looked at Liam seriously.

"He's our core point guard, the NCAA scoring champion, a great shooter. Shouldn't I give him the opportunity to find his rhythm?" Liam argued, barely containing his anger.

He hadn't expected Stevens, who had always supported him, to start questioning him. It felt like a betrayal.

"But he never got back into rhythm, and we lost the game," Stevens replied, his face stern.

"Heh, it's just a regular season game. If we lose, we lose. We'll just win the next one," Liam said dismissively.

"Yes, it's just an insignificant regular season game. Winning or losing doesn't matter," Stevens nodded in agreement, but then added, "But what if we make it to March Madness, and Stephen suddenly loses his rhythm in a game? Will you give him a whole game to find his shot, only to try again next year?"

Liam stood there in stunned silence, lost in deep thought.

End of this chapter

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