The Wall He Couldn’t Break.

As the starting lineups were introduced, Kyrie Irving received a mix of boos and cheers from the Cleveland crowd.

His public shots at the Cavs after the trade had been outrageous, but that didn't mean people had forgotten what he had done for the franchise.

His battle against Miami two years ago, playing until his season-ending injury… his clutch performances last year against the Heat in the East Finals… many fans still remembered.

For a brief moment, Kyrie's eyes wavered.

But just as quickly, his expression hardened.

With introductions over, both teams set their starting five:

Chicago Bulls: Kyrie Irving, Jimmy Butler, Doug McDermott, Taj Gibson, Pau Gasol.

Cleveland Cavaliers: Dwyane Wade, Han Sen, P.J. Tucker, Tristan Thompson, Nikola Jokić.

Jokić won the opening tip, and the game was underway.

Han took the ball into the frontcourt, called for a screen from Tristan Thompson, and attacked the strong side. As soon as the Bulls' defense shifted, he swung the ball weak-side to Wade, setting him up for isolation.

Wade had been working on his three-point shot, but he wasn't Kyrie-level from deep.

And if all the Cavs needed was someone to space the floor, they might as well have started J.R. Smith.

For Wade to be effective, he needed touches—and he needed to get downhill.

But at this stage of his career, he couldn't just rely on pure speed to blow by defenders anymore.

The best way to maximize him?

Let him go one-on-one, where his footwork could take over.

With Covington gone, Chicago's only top-tier perimeter defender was Butler—and he had no choice but to guard Han.

That meant Kyrie was the one checking Wade.

The two biggest names in the trade, facing off on the very first possession.

The crowd noise built.

Wade wasted no time, attacking immediately.

Kyrie stayed in front, sliding his feet—he had improved defensively, and Wade no longer had the same first-step burst.

But this wasn't about speed.

This was about craft.

Just as Wade reached the paint, he pulled out his signature move—his Euro step.

A hard plant with his left foot, a deceptive pause, then a quick shift to his right—Kyrie bit for just a fraction of a second.

It was all Wade needed.

Bringing the ball high over Kyrie's reach, he angled his body perfectly to absorb the contact and shield off the contest.

Before Gibson could rotate over, Wade floated it up off the glass.

Swish.

A textbook finish. All footwork. All finesse.

The crowd erupted.

Wade's first points in a Cavs jersey came quicker than expected—and in classic Wade fashion.

---

On the other end, Kyrie walked the ball up while Butler spaced out to the weak-side corner.

During trade talks, there had been discussions about swapping Kyrie for Butler.

Han had shut it down.

Not because Butler wasn't good—if anything, this version of Butler was underrated. His three-point shooting had quietly improved to 36.7% on 3.3 attempts per game. He wasn't elite, but he was solid.

Early in his career, he had carved out a role under Thibodeau as a 3-and-D wing before evolving into a legitimate star.

But Han's issue wasn't about basketball.

It was about personality.

Butler looked like Jordan. Played like Jordan. Acted like Jordan.

And if he landed in Cleveland?

There was no doubt he'd start treating Jokić the same way he had treated Karl-Anthony Towns and Joel Embiid—like a soft, lazy big man who didn't work as hard as him.

Han wasn't about to let that kind of locker room disaster happen.

Still, Butler was a team-first guy on the court.

Instead of forcing a shot, he gave the ball up to Kyrie.

And standing in front of Kyrie?

Wade.

Kyrie had just gotten scored on.

But he didn't immediately force a revenge shot.

Instead, he called for a screen from Pau Gasol and went straight at Jokić on the switch.

Jokić wasn't fast enough to contain Kyrie's first step.

He knew it.

So he didn't even try to recover.

TT rotated over to contest.

But Kyrie was already a step ahead—

He adjusted in mid-air, hanging, twisting, avoiding the block before laying it in smoothly.

The ball dropped through the net.

Kyrie didn't even acknowledge Thompson.

Instead—

He turned and stared directly at Jokić.

Cold. Focused. Intense.

And for the first time, the outside world caught a glimpse of what had truly driven Kyrie away.

It was never about Malone.

It was about Jokić.

About Malone prioritizing Jokić's development.

About Han never fully answering him when he asked, "Am I not as good as Nikola?"

So now?

Kyrie wasn't just here to compete.

He was here to prove them all wrong.

That he wasn't just better than Jokić—

He was far, far better.

Jokić, meanwhile, barely reacted.

He just gave Kyrie a confused look—like he was wondering why the hell he was staring at him—

Then casually turned to inbound the ball like it was just another play.

Like it was just another day at the office.

And that pissed Kyrie off even more.

Because this was exactly why he couldn't accept the way things had been in Cleveland.

Jokić didn't even care.

He wasn't trying to be the second option.

He wasn't trying to prove anything.

He was just… playing basketball.

Meanwhile, Kyrie had spent his entire life grinding to be great—

Yet Jokić was the one getting recognized.

That wasn't fair.

---

Cleveland came back down the floor, running the same set—except this time, Wade used a high pick from Jokić.

Kyrie fought through the screen, but Jokić's size slowed him down just enough.

That was all Wade needed.

He switched onto Pau, drove inside, pump-faked him into the air, then spun for an easy glass finish.

Back-to-back buckets.

The crowd roared.

Wade found Han in transition and smacked palms with him.

He knew he couldn't have started this well without Han's support.

Han clapped him on the back as they got back on defense.

For years, people had viewed Wade as purely an athletic player.

When he lost his speed, they assumed his game was done.

But the truth was—Wade's skillset had always been elite.

The Euro-step into a floater.

The inside pivot fake into a reverse finish.

Only a handful of guards in the league could execute these moves at this level.

---

On the next possession, Kyrie wasn't done.

Another pick from Pau.

But this time, he didn't attack immediately.

Instead, he waited.

Waited until Pau completely sealed Wade behind him.

Now he had Jokić on the switch.

This time, he didn't just try to drive.

He took a hard step forward—baiting Jokić into retreating—then snapped back into a pull-up three.

Jokić lunged to contest.

Too late.

Splash.

Kyrie walked back, nodding to himself.

5 straight points.

Tonight, there were two players with something to prove.

Both of them had come out swinging.

But for Kyrie, it wasn't just about playing well—he wanted to send a message.

After drilling the three-pointer, he turned to the Cavaliers' bench and barked at Coach Malone.

"He's not better than me! You can't win a championship without me!"

The entire Cavs bench froze in shock.

Malone's expression darkened.

If there had been any doubt before, Kyrie had just made things crystal clear—this wasn't just a professional split.

This was personal.

Han's face hardened as well.

Before this, his feelings toward Kyrie's departure had been more resigned than anything else.

Like the fans, he hadn't forgotten what Kyrie had done for the team.

Cleveland wouldn't have beaten Miami without him.

Especially two years ago, when Kyrie had played until his body broke down. Without that, Han wouldn't have had a chance to make history with his record-breaking playoff performance.

That's why Han hadn't bothered clapping back at Kyrie's earlier comments.

But this?

This was over the line.

Malone had been the one to push Kyrie toward becoming a more complete player.

He had developed his playmaking. Helped him improve on defense. Put him in better positions to succeed.

And now, Kyrie was acting like Malone had been against him all along?

No. That wasn't going to fly.

---

Han took the ball up, and this time, he didn't swing it to the weak side.

Instead, he called for a screen from TT and went straight to the rim.

The Bulls weren't expecting the shift in strategy.

If Covington were still in Chicago, he could've rotated over to help.

But McDermott?

He wasn't that guy.

Chicago had drafted him in 2014 for his shooting, but the reason he was never a full-time starter?

Defense.

Han blew by him with ease, rising up inside.

BAM!

Taj Gibson got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Han posterized him, sending the arena into a frenzy.

As he jogged back on defense, he motioned to Wade—switch.

And just like that, Han was now guarding Kyrie.

Kyrie was caught off guard.

He knew exactly what Han was capable of defensively—there was a reason he had back-to-back Defensive Player of the Year awards.

Logically, he should pass the ball.

Jimmy Butler had moved up from the weak-side corner, clearly expecting a handoff.

But Kyrie ignored him.

He didn't care about the right play.

He needed to beat Han.

He called for another screen from Pau, starting his drive the moment the pick was set.

But just as he accelerated—

Han slid around the screen, reappearing right in front of him.

Kyrie's heart clenched.

Han's summer training had paid off—his ability to move his puppies let him navigate screens more effortlessly than ever.

But Kyrie wasn't backing down.

He rocked into a hesitation crossover, baiting Han forward.

The moment the ball hung in front of him—Han snatched it away.

A clean steal.

---

If Kyrie had just been honest from the start—if he had told Han the truth back in Cleveland—maybe Han could have helped him see it.

Basketball wasn't just about hard work.

If it were, Han would've made it as a player in his past life.

No.

Basketball was a mix of talent and effort.

And talent? That wasn't something you could grind your way into.

Han, with his system, had 99 talent, 85 effort—borderline unfair.

Jokić had 95 talent, 60 effort—naturally gifted, but not obsessed with training.

Kyrie? He had 88 talent, 80 effort—skilled, hardworking, but not transcendent.

He worked harder than Jokić.

But he'd never have his talent.

And that was a gap he could never close.

---

Han didn't hesitate—he took off in transition.

Wade was already sprinting alongside him.

Even past his prime, Wade's fast-break instincts were still elite.

That left Butler trying to guard both of them.

Han reached the three-point line, forcing Butler to commit.

The moment Butler's focus shifted to him, Han dropped a pass to Wade.

Butler recovered quickly, pivoting to contest.

But Wade?

He immediately tossed the ball into the air.

A perfect lob.

Han jumped—head at the rim—and hammered home a vicious alley-oop dunk!

The arena exploded.

Wade had thrown countless lobs to LeBron in Miami.

Now?

He had Han.

The moment was electric.

In the front row, the same fan who had called Kyrie a coward earlier was now on his feet, punching the air in celebration.

"I TOLD YOU! IT DOESN'T MATTER WHO'S NEXT TO HAN—HE'S THE REASON WE WON!"

---

Kyrie's expression darkened.

He clenched his jaw as the Bulls brought the ball back up.

This time, Butler moved over again, expecting the pass.

Kyrie ignored him.

Again.

This time, he didn't even call for a screen.

If he was going to prove his point, he had to do it himself.

The crowd noise surged.

Kyrie locked in.

No more hesitation.

No more over-dribbling.

He cut down his movements, keeping them sharp and efficient.

But no matter what he tried—

Han stayed in front of him.

Five years ago, when Han was still with the Grizzlies, he had also switched onto Kyrie.

Back then, Kyrie had struggled.

Now, he had improved.

But so had Han.

Han's defense was too overwhelming.

Kyrie was forced to pick up his dribble.

Out of options, he spun for a fadeaway jumper.

Han read it perfectly.

As Kyrie rose up, Han timed his jump.

SMACK.

A brutal block.

Kyrie had been so determined to prove himself that he never stopped to realize one thing.

He wasn't going to get past Han Sen.

Because Han was the wall.

And Kyrie had just run straight into it.