The Death of Jordan Rules.
2-2.
The Eastern Conference Finals were heading into another do-or-die Game 5.
Another win-or-go-home moment.
The phrase 'again' was fitting—because this exact scenario had happened last year.
Same teams. Same city. Same stakes.
In Miami.
And just like now, the Heat had taken Game 5, putting the Cavaliers on the brink of elimination.
That night, Han Sen had poured in 51 points—only for Cleveland to come up short.
Everyone knew this Game 5 would be even more brutal than the ones before it.
With the series tied, the margin for error had vanished.
While the East was still in a deadlock, the Western Conference Finals were becoming clearer.
The Warriors had taken another game off the Lakers, pushing the series to 3-1.
Unless something unexpected happened, Golden State was going back to the Finals.
That meant Miami's championship window was getting bigger.
And Pat Riley knew it.
---
"We'll handle it."
Pat Riley stood before the media at an open practice, his voice steady, his expression unreadable.
It wasn't just coach-speak. He meant it.
Shaquille O'Neal, now on the other side of the game as an analyst, wasn't buying it.
"Man, I don't know what he's talking about. They ain't got a single guy who can handle Han Sen. Miami's in trouble."
Riley, never one to back down, fired back when asked about Shaq's comments.
"I don't care what he says. He's been out of the league too long. He doesn't know basketball anymore."
A direct shot at the former Lakers and Heat champion.
The jab sparked debate, but as the Miami sun dipped below the skyline on game night, none of it mattered.
The only thing that did?
The war about to unfold on the hardwood.
---
The arena was packed to capacity.
Outside, thousands more fans flooded the streets, eager to witness history.
Miami's hunger for a championship was just as strong as Cleveland's desperation to keep their season alive.
In fact, the night before, local police had arrested a Heat fan at the Cavaliers' hotel—someone who had disguised themselves as a ghost, hoping to 'haunt' the team.
A ridiculous stunt.
But in Florida?
Just another day.
---
Starting Lineups
Miami Heat: Goran Dragić, Dwyane Wade, Kevin Durant, Luol Deng, Pau Gasol
Cleveland Cavaliers: Kyrie Irving, J.R. Smith, Han Sen, P.J. Tucker, Nikola Jokić
---
Riley had reverted to his original starting five, but the most notable change was on defense.
From the opening tip, Wade was matched up against Kyrie Irving.
Miami's offense had been overpowering all series.
But Riley was willing to sacrifice a little firepower if it meant slowing down Cleveland's guards.
Then came the real plan.
The first time Han drove to the rim, three defenders collapsed on him.
He kicked the ball out to the corner.
P.J. Tucker, wide open.
Splash.
A possession later, Han attacked again—this time, David West body-checked him mid-air, forcing free throws.
That was the pattern.
Anytime Han tried to score inside, Miami swarmed him.
Hard fouls. Traps. Physicality.
It didn't take long to see what Riley was doing.
He had reintroduced an old-school defensive strategy.
The Jordan Rules.
Back in the late '80s, the Pistons had used this very system to beat a young Michael Jordan.
Now, Riley was using it to break Han Sen.
The idea was simple:
- Make his life hell inside the paint.
- Hit him. Bump him. Wear him down.
- Force him into difficult, inefficient shots.
- If he passes? Let the role players beat you.
It wasn't a bad plan.
Miami had the personnel to execute it, and so far, it was working.
By the midway point of the first quarter, the Heat had built a 16-8 lead.
For the first time all series, they were dictating the game from the start.
The crowd could sense it.
The championship was within reach.
Then Han adjusted.
---
Han signaled for a screen.
Jokić stepped up, setting a high pick.
Irving's pass was right on time.
Han took one step forward—then immediately pulled back behind the three-point line.
A deep, step-back three.
That wasn't a shot he usually relied on.
But Miami had left him no choice.
Swish.
Heat defenders exchanged glances.
Riley remained still.
This was fine.
Forcing Han to shoot threes was already half the battle won.
If he started settling for jumpers, they'd live with it.
The problem?
Han wasn't settling.
The next time down, Durant responded with a mid-range jumper.
Then Han came right back.
Another high screen from Jokić.
Another hesitation.
Then he cut back to the perimeter, ran a handoff play, and launched again.
Splash.
Two straight threes.
Riley finally shifted in his seat.
The Jordan Rules had a fundamental weakness.
They were designed to cut off driving lanes, to physically wear down an attacker.
But against a three-point shooter?
They didn't work.
Jordan had never fully mastered the three-ball during his era.
Han Sen, on the other hand?
He wasn't just a shooter—he was a smart shooter.
It wasn't just about making deep shots.
It was about hunting for the best possible ones.
And the way Miami defended?
There were plenty of openings.
A moment later, Han fired up another three.
Third make in four attempts.
Riley sighed and finally called for a timeout.
The old ways didn't work anymore.
It was time for a new plan.
---
As the timeout buzzer sounded, Pat Riley stood courtside, his trademark slicked-back hair and sharp suit giving him the usual 'Godfather' aura.
But for the first time in a long time, he felt like the old Don being stared down by a young enforcer, one who had just pulled a gun and whispered—
"Times have changed, old man."
Riley had never been one to resist the evolution of basketball. Unlike Charles Barkley, who still swore that 'jump shooting teams can't win championships', Riley had long been a prophet of the game's future. He was one of the earliest to predict that basketball's endgame would be 'five forwards on the floor'.
But knowing the future and accepting it are two different things.
Because even he wasn't ready for the reality of a Jordan who could shoot threes like Reggie Miller.
Every player has weaknesses—every great one has a flaw to exploit.
Yet, watching Han Sen carve through his defensive schemes like a surgeon, Riley realized he had no answer.
Coming out of the timeout, Riley made a change. Pau Gasol out. David West in.
It was a near-version of his ideal 'five-out' lineup, the pinnacle of positionless basketball.
Except, he hadn't wanted to go there.
He was forced into it.
And it didn't take long for that reality to set in.
On Cleveland's very next possession, the Heat defenders lined up just inside the three-point arc, mirroring the way teams defended Steph Curry all season.
Han Sen had become just the second player in the league to demand that kind of coverage.
Before he could even call for the ball, Jokić had already slipped the screen and cut to the rim.
Han barely flicked his wrist—the pass was there in an instant.
Jokić took one dribble, planted, and slammed it home with both hands.
And as he hung on the rim for a moment, he let out a roar—
"My horse!"
It was clear—Jokić really wanted that damn horse.
---
Riley stood still on the sideline, one hand on his chin, staring at the floor with a look of rare concern.
Jokić wasn't dominant—not yet, at least.
At this level of competition, he was still an inexperienced big, not someone who should be tilting a conference finals.
But that was the issue.
Han Sen and Kyrie Irving drew so much defensive attention that Miami had to ignore Jokić.
And that was a problem.
Because even as a rookie, Jokić was a high-IQ big man. He wasn't going to overpower anyone, but he damn sure knew how to take what the defense gave him.
And the defense was giving him a lot.
On the next possession, West managed to hold his ground in the post. He forced Jokić into a tough turnaround shot, but Jokić grabbed his own miss and put it back in with ease.
Riley wanted to run his hand through his hair, but the gel wouldn't allow it.
Instead, he did something else.
With a small wave, he gave his players a new signal—drop the overcommitment on Han Sen, focus on the paint.
If Han Sen was going to torch them, so be it.
He'd rather lose to him than watch a rookie tear them apart.
And in theory?
It wasn't a bad plan.
Forcing Han Sen to carry the offensive burden would wear him down. If Miami kept it close, they could outlast Cleveland in the fourth quarter, just like in Game 3.
That was the idea, at least.
But as the game went on, Riley was reminded of an inconvenient truth—
Three is more than two.
Han Sen, now fully engaged in his shooting rhythm, was firing from deep like a man possessed.
And it wasn't just the makes.
It was how he was getting them.
He wasn't taking desperation heaves or contested prayers. He was patiently working his way into the best three-point looks possible.
After burying two quick threes, Riley saw the danger ahead.
For the first time all game, he leaned forward.
The Jordan Rules were built around one core principle: do whatever it takes to keep the opponent from scoring—double teams, hard fouls, relentless physicality.
But that only works when you have time to react.
And against Han Sen?
They didn't.
Not when he was pulling up from 30 feet.
Not when he was moving without the ball like a ghost.
Not when every Heat defender had to decide instantly whether to step up or get burned.
If they overcommitted?
Jokić made them pay.
If they sagged off?
Han Sen drilled another three.
It was the one flaw in the Jordan Rules—
And Han Sen was exposing it in real-time.
By the time his fourth three-pointer fell, Riley wasn't just leaning forward anymore—
He was standing.
And when Han Sen crossed halfcourt and fired a pull-up dagger from 32 feet, Riley snapped."Timeout!"
---
Final Score: Cavaliers 122, Heat 114.Han Sen: 45 points, 10 assists, 9-of-18 from three.
After the buzzer, Riley didn't bother waiting for the first reporter's question.
Instead, he leaned into the mic himself.
After the buzzer, Riley didn't bother waiting for the first reporter's question.
Instead, he leaned into the mic himself.
"Tell me, then." He looked out at the sea of reporters. "How exactly are you supposed to guard Han?"
His frustration was raw.
Because he knew—if Jordan couldn't escape the Jordan Rules, nobody should be able to.
But here Han Sen was, breaking a defense designed to break him.
Not even a Box-and-1 could save them—Toronto had already proven that scheme was useless against him.
And now?
With Miami down 3-2, heading back to Cleveland?
One more loss meant more than just the end of their season.
It meant the end of this Heat team.
And possibly, Riley's coaching career.
---
Postgame Fallout
On Inside the NBA, Shaquille O'Neal couldn't hold back his satisfaction.
"Pat Riley thought he had it all figured out, man." Shaq shook his head. "But what he forgot is, he never figured out Jordan either."
Chuck laughed. "That man saw Jordan cook his Knicks for a decade and thought he was gonna stop Han? C'mon now."
Even Kenny Smith nodded. "At the end of the day, sometimes great offense beats great defense. Han Sen wasn't just great tonight—he was unstoppable."
Shaq wasn't done.
"Nah, listen—Riley talked big before this game. But what's he supposed to do now? Han made the Jordan Rules look useless. This ain't the 90s, man. You can't just beat a guy up and expect him to stop scoring."
Ernie Johnson, as always, kept it professional.
"So, gentlemen, does this mean the series is over?"
Shaq grinned.
"They might as well call it now, Ernie. 'Cause unless Riley finds a sixth defender, Miami's done."
And as the cameras cut away, the basketball world knew—
Han Sen had officially broken Miami.