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The Cavaliers had not only won Game 1 on the road, but they did it with ease—something no one saw coming.
Historically, teams that survived the Western Conference were usually a lock to win the title. The last time an Eastern Conference team won it all? The 2008 Celtics.
And now, Cleveland had stolen a game in Los Angeles, putting the Lakers on the edge of a cliff.
Because if the Lakers dropped Game 2, heading to Cleveland down 0-2? They might not win a single game in enemy territory.
That made Game 2 an absolute must-win.
Even Byron Scott knew this was no time to play favorites.
Deron Williams was out of the starting lineup.
Matthew Dellavedova was in.
The adjustment paid off immediately.
With Delly starting, the Lakers' defensive issues in the backcourt disappeared. And with Deron leading the second unit, their bench depth improved.
More importantly?
Kobe was forced to pick his poison defensively, just like Han Sen.
LeBron's defense was more reputation than reality, but even with Kyrie's defensive improvements, he wasn't ready to contain Kobe.
And there was another shift in Game 2—officiating.
The whistles were tighter than in Game 1, which favored offensive teams.
The Lakers had a top-three offense this season.
After two years in charge, Adam Silver finally seemed to figure out how to balance a Finals series.
The result?
Lakers 116, Cavaliers 108.
Series tied 1-1.
This was exactly what the league and neutral fans wanted.
A one-sided Finals wouldn't satisfy anyone.
Nike vs. Under Armour.
Kobe's Last Dance vs. Han Sen's takeover.
This series had to be competitive.
Still, for the Cavs, the silver lining was clear—Game 1's road win had stolen home-court advantage.
Win the next two games in Cleveland?
A 3-1 lead would put them within striking distance of the championship.
These next two games would be everything.
---
Back home, Han Sen wasted no time.
As always, he appeared on Face to Face with Han Sen, his signature radio show—part basketball talk, part rallying cry.
It wasn't just about hyping up fans.
It was about making sure Cleveland was ready.
A caller asked a sharp question:
"Are the refs deciding the outcome of the Finals?"
A veteran fan, no doubt.
Because the truth was simple—tight officiating favored the Lakers, looser whistles favored the Cavs.
Han Sen, as always, was direct:
"No. The players decide the series."
Game 2's officiating shift played a role, sure.
But at the end of the day, the Lakers won because they played better.
LeBron, after getting publicly called out by Kobe, played disciplined.
Kevin Love and Deron Williams actually showed up.
No matter what LeBron's fans claimed after a loss, the reality was simple—their offense was elite, second only to Miami.
Even with controversial calls, if they weren't good enough, they wouldn't have made it past the Warriors.
But could they sustain it?
That was the real question.
"That's where you guys come in," Han added, his voice carrying weight.
LeBron James, returning to Cleveland for the Finals?
There was only one way to welcome him back.
---
By tip-off, Quicken Loans Arena was an absolute madhouse.
A full season of Han Sen's radio show had turned it into the loudest arena in the league.
And when Han Sen called for energy?
Cleveland answered.
Fans who couldn't get tickets? They flooded the outside plazas, watching on massive LED screens.
The scene was so chaotic that Cleveland PD had to dispatch extra units to keep order.
And when the Lakers entered the arena—
LeBron James looked up.
His scalp tingled.
Everywhere he turned—signs, banners, insults.
"F*CK LBJ."
"TRAITOR."
"WHO'S YOUR DADDY?"
"THE NOMAD CHIEF."
It wasn't just that Cleveland hated him.
It was that he had hurt them. Again.
His recent comments had burned the last bridge he had left.
Even without Han Sen's encouragement, Cleveland wasn't about to let him off easy.
By the time the starting lineups were introduced—
LeBron experienced the loudest boos of his entire life.
Not just from inside the arena.
From outside, too.
Over 20,000 voices.
A hurricane of pure hostility.
Kobe had played in hostile environments his whole career.
But even he had never seen anything like this.
LeBron?
Right now, he was the most hated man in Cleveland.
And he knew exactly why.
It was because of Han Sen.
Because Han had come back.
Because Han had taken his city.
If not for Han Sen, LeBron could've returned as a hero.
Instead, he was public enemy number one.
His jaw clenched.
He hated Han.
But all he could do—was take the floor.
---
Cavs head coach Michael Malone made his move.
Five-out small ball.
That meant one thing—Han Sen was guarding LeBron.
And despite all of LeBron's enhancements, with Han Sen hounding him, with Cleveland's full-force boos behind every possession…
LeBron had his worst playoff game of the year.
15 shots. 4 makes.
Just 13 points.
Kobe was right.
The Finals weren't just about talent.
They were about mental strength.
And when the pressure hit?
LeBron folded.
This wasn't new.
It was the same story in 2011.
The same story in 2012.
When the moment demanded a killer—
LeBron disappeared.
Skip Bayless had been saying it for years.
"LeBron James has too many 'meltdown moments' to ever be the GOAT."
And now?
He had just added another one.
---
Cavaliers 112, Lakers 100.
Cleveland takes a 2-1 lead in the Finals.
But the story wasn't just the loss.
It was what happened after.
Because just minutes after the game—
A Lakers beat reporter dropped a bombshell:
"LeBron's injury is worse than we thought. He's been playing hurt but refuses to talk about it."
LeBron's injuries might be late.
But they never miss a Finals.
When the news broke, Han Sen couldn't stop laughing.
At this point, it was a tradition.
The man never failed to pull out the same old script.
But Kobe?
Kobe wasn't laughing.
He was furious.
Because now he realized—his words after Game 1 had been wasted.
He had tried to push LeBron.
To inspire him.
To make him fight.
Instead?
This.
Excuses.
Blame-shifting.
Weakness.
And the worst part?
LeBron wasn't injured.
Kobe knew that.
And even if he was?
So what?
This was the NBA Finals.
If you could walk, you could play.
If you could play, you had no excuses.
Kobe clenched his fists.
This?
This was disgusting.
Hours before Game 4, Kobe Bryant pulled LeBron James aside.
"If you're too hurt to play, then sit your ass down in a suit and watch Han Sen win a championship over your head. Let yourself become the biggest joke in the league."
There was no sympathy in his tone.
Kobe had made his stance clear—he'd rather take on the Cavaliers alone than drag dead weight.
---
Quicken Loans Arena was once again packed to the brim.
And just like Game 3, the signs welcoming LeBron back were anything but friendly.
Pregame, Michael Malone addressed his team.
The message?
Expect a tightly officiated game.
The league wanted a 2-2 series, which meant the whistle would favor that outcome.
Defense had to be disciplined.
Starting Lineups:
Lakers: Matthew Dellavedova, Kobe Bryant, LeBron James, Channing Frye, Kevin Love
Cavaliers: Kyrie Irving, J.R. Smith, Han Sen, P.J. Tucker, Nikola Jokić
Three games in, and both teams had already made major adjustments.
No more surprises. No more experimentation.
Now?
It was all on the players.
---
From the opening tip, Kobe's aggression was off the charts.
14 first-quarter points. Vintage Mamba.
And for the first time, Han Sen truly saw what a 38-year-old Kobe without an Achilles tear looked like.
But the problem?
Han Sen responded with 18 of his own.
And by the second quarter, he had switched onto Kobe defensively.
Kobe tried using screens to shake him, but it didn't work.
Han Sen's size and athleticism made every shot a battle.
Even a prime Kobe would've struggled in a straight-up duel against this Han Sen.
With Bryant slowed down, the Lakers turned to LeBron.
He drove into the lane, met a double team, and bricked a contested shot—
Whistle.
Late foul call.
Right.
This wasn't just about a tight whistle.
It was about LeBron's whistle.
The infamous Nike Whistle.
A term everyone in the league knew but never said out loud—calls that forced defenders to back off, lowering his difficulty level.
A subtle, yet game-altering advantage.
And tonight, it was in full effect.
Because the league didn't just want a 2-2 series.
They needed LeBron to bounce back.
And as the game wore on, LeBron felt it.
The calls kept coming.
His confidence grew.
By the end of the third quarter—
Lakers 85, Cavaliers 85.
The free throw disparity?
30 to 16.
Lakers had taken nearly twice as many.
Social media erupted.
The same people who had criticized the refs in the Western Conference Finals were now calling out the NBA again.
Because just like how the Lakers needed Curry ejected to win Game 6—
They needed this whistle to survive Cleveland.
Adam Silver wasn't as blatant a Nike loyalist as David Stern.
But he wanted a seven-game series.
Because that?
That meant money.
---
With 7 minutes left, the score was deadlocked at 95-95.
Both teams had their stars back on the floor.
Han Sen wasted no time.
He attacked the lane, absorbed contact from Love and Kobe, and still finished the and-1 layup.
Cold. Ruthless. Efficient.
With his free throw, Cleveland took a 98-95 lead.
LeBron tried to answer, bulldozing his way past P.J. Tucker.
Tucker held his ground, absorbed the contact—
No whistle.
LeBron, caught off guard, still forced the shot up.
And as the ball floated toward the rim—
A shadow loomed behind him.
Han Sen.
BANG!
A volleyball-style chase-down block sent the ball flying out of bounds.
The whistle blew—out of bounds, Lakers ball.
LeBron turned, wide-eyed, his heart skipping a beat.
He immediately threw his hands up at the ref.
Where was his usual call?
The same call he had been getting all game?
Nothing.
Some whistles were league orders.
But not all of them.
Han Sen was Adam Silver's Jordan.
And nobody got those calls against him.
Seeing LeBron's reaction, Han Sen—already pissed off from the way this game had been officiated—finally snapped.
"GO HOME, LEBOZO!"
Right in LeBron's face.
Chasing foul calls like a kid begging for his mommy?
Disgusting.
If he still needed to be coddled like this in the Finals?
He should just go home and drink his milk.
LeBron was livid.
But just like with Kobe—he didn't say a word back.
Because deep down, he knew.
He didn't want to risk it.
Ever since that on-court punch from James Johnson in the 2012 Finals, he had developed a permanent 'once bitten, twice shy' mentality.
And even though Johnson was long gone from Cleveland—
Han Sen?
He was even more unpredictable.
And if Han didn't do something?
JR Smith definitely would.
Han Sen's block sent Cleveland's momentum into overdrive.
The crowd erupted.
When the big screen replayed the rejection, the noise hit earthquake levels.
But the arena wasn't the only place exploding.
Because on social media, a single comment was going viral.
A post from an account named 'KBfans' had just hit trending status:
"Han Sen is recruiting LeBron."
And suddenly, the narrative took on a life of its own.
-End of Chapter-