Chapter 113 – Iverson’s Savior, the Lakers’ New Weapon!

The Lakers were still struggling after their first two games in January 1997, slipping into a five-game losing streak.

But Lakers fans didn't mind. Why? Because the replay of Alex Mo's "Chicago Martial Arts Club" performance was enough to carry them through this rough patch.

January 6th, U.S. time.

Allen Iverson, visiting Big Mo at his place, flopped down on the couch after getting wiped out in a video game.

"Yo, Mo, I think that Kobe kid's playing today," Iverson said, flipping on the TV.

He had to admit, he'd started enjoying watching Kobe's games lately. The young guard, who had teamed up with him and Big Mo in last year's Christmas showdown, had been on a roll.

"You sure you're not watching just to see who loses worse?" Big Mo teased as he sank into the sofa beside him, glancing at the screen.

Boston Celtics vs. Phoenix Suns.

"Damn," Mo muttered. "Iverson, you're watching Kidd vs. Nash!"

Meanwhile, in Phoenix, the Suns and the Celtics were tipping off in what most considered a run-of-the-mill regular-season matchup.

Jason Kidd and Steve Nash — two future Hall of Fame point guards — were meeting for the first time on an NBA court. But surprisingly, neither was the focus today.

Kobe Bryant? Not really.

Robert Horry? Absolutely.

This year's Celtics were a disaster — 6 wins, 24 losses. Last in the East. Last in the league.

Even with a few breakout games from Kobe, they were rock bottom.

The Suns weren't much better, but still had a few more wins to their name.

But under new head coach Danny Ainge, things were falling apart.

And on this night, they couldn't even beat the worst team in the league.

Horry, sitting on the bench, couldn't take it anymore.

"If you can't beat the last-place team, what kind of coach are you?" he barked.

"This playbook smells worse than the burrito I had last night!"

One verbal jab after another. Ainge tried to assert himself, but Horry wasn't having it.

Then came the towel.

Smack.

Right in Danny Ainge's face.

"You were grazing on grass when I was winning rings in Houston!"

The arena gasped. The ESPN cameras zoomed in.

Security escorted Horry to the locker room, but he didn't stay.

He showered, packed up, and by the fourth quarter, he was already gone — driving away from the arena with all his gear.

When the broadcast cut back to the game, Iverson pointed at the screen, eyes wide.

"Mo, this dude might be perfect for us!"

Iverson was lit up. "Look at him — Big Ben KO'd Rasheed. I punched Garnett. You wrecked the Bulls. But none of us has the guts to go at our own coach!"

Big Mo raised an eyebrow. "Allen, we're a basketball team. Not a full-blown boxing stable."

He glanced at Iverson's head. "And when are you gonna clean up that mop? You'd look good with a gutter fade."

"I mean," Iverson smirked, "having one more guy who can throw hands doesn't hurt, right? You know Chicago's gonna want revenge next time. The more muscle, the better."

He leaned back, thoughtful.

"Robert Horry's not just a fighter. He's a winner."

The next morning…

Iverson walked into the training facility early and pulled head coach Del Harris aside.

"Coach, we should go after Horry," he said. "He's been huge in Houston. He knows how to win. He can help us."

Del nodded slowly. "Funny — Mo said the same thing."

Iverson blinked. "He did?"

"Yeah. He called it in right after the Suns game."

Iverson laughed. "That guy told me we didn't need fighters. Now look at him."

Del Harris smiled. "Maybe he just sees things before the rest of us."

Later, in the Lakers' front office…

Jerry West listened to the pitch from Del Harris.

He already knew. Big Mo had called him too.

He didn't demand a trade — just made a smart, thoughtful suggestion.

Robert Horry could swing between the 3 and 4. He could space the floor, open up the lane for Mo and Iverson's drives, and give Del more flexibility with rotations.

Big Ben and Campbell brought defense. Horry would bring offense and spacing.

Mo had laid it all out.

Jerry West was impressed.

"He's a rookie," West said, "but the kid's got a basketball brain. Not just talent."

Del nodded. "He's a genius. On the court, in the locker room — he sees it all."

West grinned. "Let's make the call."

Over in Phoenix...

The Suns front office couldn't believe their luck.

Horry was a ticking time bomb after the towel incident. Shipping him out ASAP was the best-case scenario.

And sending him to the Lakers? That was just icing on the cake for Danny Ainge, a longtime Celtic who had no love for L.A.

January 7th, U.S. time.

Iverson returned from his five-game suspension and led the Lakers to a much-needed win.

But the headlines weren't about the win.

They were about the trade.

The Los Angeles Lakers sent Cedric Ceballos and Rumeal Robinson to the Phoenix Suns.

In return?

Robert Horry.

The Celtics game was chaos. The Suns locker room exploded. And just like that, the Lakers picked up another weapon.

Maybe not a saint, but definitely a soldier.

Iverson grinned when he heard the news.

"Welcome to the team, Horry," he said.

"Let's go win some fights — I mean, games."