Chapter Fifty-One: Slow Death

The team from Salt Lake City was widely favored before the season began. The reason was simple: their perimeter leader, Gordon Hayward, had shown continuous improvement, and after a summer of hard training, he was bound to reap the rewards this season. At the same time, their interior anchor, Rudy Gobert, had also made significant strides.

With both leaders performing brilliantly, the entire team was revitalized and experienced a qualitative leap forward. As visitors in Orlando, they held absolute dominance on both ends of the floor for most of the first quarter.

With the score at 23-17, neither team had posted high numbers, but it was clear from the flow of the game that the home team was in trouble.

"With Rudy Gobert patrolling the paint, Nikola Vucevic has been completely unable to show his skills," the ABC commentator said helplessly at the end of the first quarter. "Once the interior core can’t get going, the home team falls into an offensive quagmire."

"They’ve fallen right into the trap the Utah Jazz set for them!"

"Exactly. Although neither team is scoring much, the effort Orlando is expending to crack Utah’s defense is substantial," another commentator nodded. "The effects of this problem will become more and more apparent as the game goes on."

As impartial observers, the commentators could see many things the players on the court, caught up in the struggle, might miss.

Of course, as the team’s head coach, Frank Vogel was hardly at ease as he watched his sweat-soaked players.

"Coach Frank, the other side is just too tough. I’ve never felt this exhausted," complained Aaron Gordon, the Magic’s forward, even before Vogel could speak, wiping the sweat from his brow. "And that damn Rudy Gobert—I don’t even dare drive into the lane!"

"Of course, Aaron. That’s the Jazz’s usual style. As a key player, you have to get used to it," Vogel said, frowning, his expression grim. "And you have to overcome it."

The truth was, the opposition’s defensive intensity was so high that his players were struggling to adapt. With his own interior core completely shut down, Vogel knew the Magic were facing a very serious problem.

Yet, even knowing how dire things were, Vogel couldn’t come up with a solution right away. With the second quarter about to begin, he could only make some targeted adjustments to the lineup.

The Magic were utterly helpless against the Jazz’s defense, and this was exactly what Jazz head coach Quin Snyder wanted to see. This defense-minded coach kept Gobert on the floor to start the second quarter, while giving Gordon Hayward a rest.

He needed his star to get sufficient rest, but Snyder had no concerns about the team’s offense.

After all, the Jazz had made moves in the free agent market over the summer—they had acquired none other than the former "King of the Hawks," Joe Johnson!

"Coach Quin Snyder is keeping Gordon Hayward on the bench and sending in Joe Johnson!" the commentator noted with emotion as he saw the Jazz’s lineup. "Although Joe Johnson is no longer young, his isolation skills are still formidable!"

And that, of course, was exactly why the Jazz had signed him.

Known as "Iso Joe," Johnson certainly didn’t disappoint Coach Snyder. As soon as the quarter began, the Magic’s first possession was swatted away by Gobert’s long arms. Then, on the ensuing fast break, Johnson took his defender one-on-one, backed him down skillfully, spun, and hit a fadeaway jumper for two points.

On the Magic’s side, if even their starting lineup had no answer for the Jazz’s defense, their second unit fared even worse. Whether on the perimeter or the wing, the Magic’s reserves looked as if they’d forgotten how to play basketball, unable to find any comfort in their actions.

The result was predictable: missed shots, counterattacks, and a widening gap. Everything unfolded as if by design, and what awaited the Magic was nothing short of defeat.

It was a slow death.

The quarter ended 26-18, with neither team scoring heavily, but the Jazz still led. By halftime, they were up 49-35, holding a 14-point advantage over the home team.

"Coach Frank Vogel is left with two problems," the commentator sighed as he glanced at the halftime stats. "One is offense, and the other is defense."

Inside the locker room, Vogel wore a stern expression as he opened the team’s first-half statistics. The 32.7% field goal percentage glared back at him, to say nothing of the pitiful 20% from beyond the arc. If he could, he wouldn’t even look.

But Vogel’s disappointment extended beyond that. The Jazz hadn’t been much more efficient in the half-court, but the rebounding disparity was evident. Rudy Gobert was not just a defensive enforcer and a skilled center—he was also a master on the boards.

"Coach, with Rudy Gobert under the basket, we can’t get anything going!" Vucevic said bluntly, albeit reluctantly. "With him out there, Utah’s defense is like a turtle shell!"

"Nikola’s right—we need someone who can break through that French barrier!" Serge Ibaka chimed in, shaking his head. "Otherwise, we’re just going to die a slow death!"

"Break through the French barrier?"

Ibaka’s words made Vogel pause. The Magic were having problems at both ends, but they didn’t have the energy to address both at once. They had to tackle the fundamental issue: offense.

As Vucevic pointed out, the opposing defensive anchor was Rudy Gobert. The key was figuring out how to break through him—that was the Magic’s path forward.

"Coach Frank!"

Just then, a seldom-heard voice echoed in the Magic’s locker room.

Michael Wu stood up from his seat and volunteered to the head coach. "Let me get out there. I want to give it a try!"

"Michael?" Vogel was taken aback by Wu’s initiative. "What do you want to try?"

"I want to see if I can break through the French barrier," Wu replied as he stretched his legs. "With these legs of mine!"

"Michael, are you out of your mind?" As soon as Wu finished speaking, Bismack Biyombo was the first to object. Having gone up against Gobert in the latter part of the first quarter and the early second, Biyombo knew all too well how oppressive the big man could be for anyone trying to score inside.

"Hey, Bismack, do you believe I can dunk over Cole Aldrich?" Wu asked, seemingly expecting Biyombo’s resistance, shrugging as he spoke. "That guy is seven feet tall!"

"Why can’t Rudy Gobert be my next Cole Aldrich?"