"You're not seriously going to play, are you?" Rudy Gay stared at Han Sen, whose pale face told the story of his fever. His tone was filled with disbelief.
Han Sen didn't say a word. He simply nodded and sat down at his spot.
"You sure you're over the fever?" Zach Randolph asked, giving Han Sen a skeptical look. Han didn't look anywhere close to healthy.
"You guys have too much ti on your hands. Just make sure you don't play worse than tonight," Han deflected, avoiding a direct answer—because he was still running a fever.
"Han, don't risk it," Shane Battier chid in, his voice heavy with concern.
"I said I'd win the championship in Miami," Han replied, shaking his head firmly.
Before Battier could push further, Han stood up, scanning the room with a determined gaze.
"Win tonight's ga for . That's my final request to all of you."
The weight of Han's words filled the locker room. What was initially an atmosphere of hesitation transford into one of fiery resolve.
Emotional leadership wasn't exclusive to Dwyane Wade.
...
Ga 6 – Arican Airlines Arena
The arena was packed to capacity, with the dia area so cramd that reporters were practically spilling out of their seats.
As soon as Han Sen erged from the tunnel, the crowd erupted into chaos—not just in the stands but among the press.
The pre-ga narrative had been clear: Han Sen was unlikely to play. mphis held the series lead, and there was no need to risk him under such circumstances. Many had already assud Miami would take Ga 6, setting up a Ga 7 showdown in mphis.
But there he was, walking onto the court.
Han didn't participate in pre-ga warmups. He sat quietly on the sideline, conserving his energy.
His fever had dropped slightly compared to the night before—down to 101°F (38.5°C). It wasn't ideal, but it was just low enough for him to decide he could play.
If it had still been 104°F (40°C), he wouldn't have gambled with his life.
Still, his body felt weak, and his mind was clouded. Every step felt heavy.
The team doctor checked in with him, asking about his condition. After so discussion, Han took a fever reducer.
This wasn't about theatrics; fever dication took ti to kick in and had to be carefully tid. By the second half, Han would need his body temperature under control to stay in the ga.
After the doctor left, Chris Rondo approached Han to update him on the investigation into the water tampering.
The NBA had banned the culprit, an arena staffer nad Kos, for life and was pursuing legal action against both him and the hotel.
Even Under Armour, Han's sponsor, had filed a massive lawsuit. Both Kos and the hotel faced potential financial ruin.
This was no small matter—it was a direct threat to a player's safety. If the water had been spiked with poison instead of a virus, the consequences could have been catastrophic.
Han nodded silently. He didn't have the energy to dwell on the incident. Right now, his focus was solely on the ga.
...
The Ga Begins
When Han Sen was introduced during the opening ceremony, for the first ti all Finals long, Heat fans gave him applause instead of boos.
Every fan base had its share of extremists, but the majority respected true grit.
Both teams stuck with the sa starting lineups as the previous ga.
After the jump ball, Marc Gasol tipped it to mphis, and the Grizzlies launched the first attack.
Gasol and Randolph ran their signature high-low post play, but the Heat's defense was relentless.
Han Sen moved to set a pick-and-roll with Gasol, drawing defenders away, but Randolph opted to go for a tough inside shot, which Miami successfully defended.
The Heat quickly transitioned, and Wade drew a foul on Mike Conley during a fast break, earning two free throws.
Han pulled Randolph aside during the stoppage. "Don't treat like an invalid," he said firmly.
The ssage was clear: if they were going to hold back because of his fever, then his playing tonight was pointless.
Wade sank both free throws, giving the Heat the lead.
On the next possession, the Grizzlies adjusted, and Randolph drew a foul on Chris Bosh, earning his own trip to the line.
When Randolph made both free throws, Han went over to high-five him.
This wasn't going to be an easy ga. His fever wasn't going to magically disappear, and every player on the team needed to give it their all.
...
Heat coach Erik Spoelstra wasn't one for sentintality. His team was facing elimination; there was no room for rcy.
When the ball returned to Wade, he imdiately attacked Han off the dribble. Han's movent was noticeably sluggish, and Wade got past him easily, finishing with a floater.
The arena erupted.
Now it was confird: Han was still feverish.
Victory at this point might not feel entirely fair, but Heat fans were desperate to avoid a fourth straight Finals loss.
The Heat ramped up their defensive pressure, doubling the strong side whenever Han touched the ball.
Han received a pass, with Wade quickly closing in.
With a quick pump fake, Han shifted past Wade, driving to the rim. Wade recovered, leaping to block, but Han adjusted mid-air, pulling the ball back before releasing his shot.
The whistle blew—Wade had fouled him on the wrist.
As Han fell to the floor, Wade reached out and helped him up.
It was only when Wade grabbed Han's hand that he realized just how hot Han's body was.
This wasn't just a mild fever—Han's entire body was burning.
To perform at this level under such conditions required an iron will.
Han stepped to the free-throw line, exhaling deeply. Even his breath felt like it carried heat.
But his hands remained steady.
Two free throws. Two clean swishes.
The arena buzzed with restless energy.
Han Sen's defense revealed he was indeed feverish, but his offense? It told a completely different story. The contradictions on the court were almost surreal.
As the ga wore on, the audience noticed one undeniable truth—Han Sen's sweat was relentless. By the latter part of the second quarter, he looked like a walking fountain, forcing ball boys to constantly mop the floor.
Halfti arrived with the Heat clinging to a slim lead, 53–50.
Han Sen's first-half stats: 14 points on 5-of-10 shooting.
His defense and shot attempts made it clear the fever was affecting him, yet sohow, he delivered a highly efficient performance.
"If you're unsure what defines greatness in a player, just record everything you're seeing tonight," Charles Barkley quipped from the comntary booth.
Han Sen didn't walk to the locker room. Instead, he leaned on Rudy Gay's shoulder and headed straight to the dical room for an IV drip.
Playing with a fever isn't just about dizziness or fatigue—it's also about the excessive loss of sweat, especially with the fever reducers kicking in by halfti, accelerating his dehydration. Drinking water alone wouldn't cut it; only an IV could stabilize him.
While Han Sen was hooked to the IV, his teammates frequently stopped by to check on him.
This ti, he didn't scold them for being idle because their stellar first-half efforts had kept his energy expenditure within acceptable limits.
Inevitably, fans began comparing his performance to Michael Jordan's famous 'Flu Ga.' But few realized how lucky Han Sen was compared to Jordan back then.
During Jordan's ga, his teammates offered little help. Scottie Pippen, for instance, managed just 17 points on 5-of-17 shooting, and only three Bulls players hit double digits.
For those debating Pippen versus LeBron, it's really a toss-up. At the Finals level, if you lack a go-to move, being 'versatile' often translates to 'ineffective.' They're great for facilitating but not for carrying the team in clutch monts.
Han Sen, however, had real support. Randolph, Marc Gasol, and Gay all stepped up in the first half.
When the second half began, Han Sen looked noticeably sharper.
The fever reducers were in full effect, and with his temperature down, his rhythm returned.
On the opening possession of the third quarter, he cut to the basket for a powerful dunk, shocking the crowd into stunned silence and energizing the Grizzlies.
Han Sen exploded for 14 points in the third quarter—matching his first-half output.
Behind his brilliance, the Grizzlies outscored the Heat 32–22 in the quarter, flipping the score to an 82–75 lead heading into the final period.
Heat fans grew restless, puzzled by Han Sen's enigmatic condition.
At the start of the fourth, Han Sen was on the bench guzzling electrolyte drinks.
Urination wasn't an issue; the water barely stayed in his system, rapidly turning into sweat.
Typically, fever reducers work for 30 minutes to two hours. But that's under normal conditions. With Han Sen pushing his body to the limit, his fever rebounded faster.
By the ti the third quarter ended, his temperature was nearly 40°C again.
The team doctor hesitated but knew Han Sen wouldn't quit now.
The Heat, led by Chris Bosh, ca out swinging to open the fourth, clawing the deficit down to three within three minutes.
Coach Joerger wanted to extend Han Sen's rest, but the ga's intensity demanded otherwise.
Both teams deployed their starters early, and the battle reached a boiling point.
"Defense! Defense!"
The chants reverberated throughout the arena as the Heat's defense tightened.
mphis couldn't execute their plays, forcing Marc Gasol to hand off the ball to Han Sen for a mid-range jumper under duress.
Swish!
Despite Kendrick Perkins' outstretched hand contesting, Han Sen nailed it.
He exhaled deeply after the shot, his labored breathing betraying his condition. High fever made it difficult to maintain proper form, so he relied on sheer willpower to execute.
That bucket steadied the Grizzlies.
On the other end, Kevin Durant's jumper missed under Rudy Gay's relentless contest, giving mphis another opportunity.
But the Heat's defensive intensity remained unyielding.
Once again, Marc Gasol executed a handoff with Han Sen. This ti, the Heat pressured even harder, forcing Han Sen to drive inside.
His movents were shaky, but he sohow spun away from Bosh and launched a fading shot from the paint.
Bosh's aggressive contest resulted in a foul as Han Sen hit the floor.
Gay and Randolph rushed to pull him up, their hands instinctively tightening at the heat radiating from his body.
Han Sen stepped to the line.
The arena drowned in deafening noise as the crowd tried to rattle him.
A deep breath.
Two free throws.
Two swishes.
The crowd erupted into murmurs.
On the other end, Durant answered with a cold-blooded three-pointer, silencing the mphis bench.
The Thunderous applause roared again as Durant celebrated, fists clenched, embodying the 'Slim Reaper.'
Heat fans went berserk, and their team cranked up the defensive intensity even further.
Han Sen, visibly drained, stood at the weak-side three-point line.
Randolph, double-tead in the post, whipped a risky cross-court pass to Han Sen, narrowly evading Dwyane Wade's steal attempt.
Catching the ball, Han Sen faked a shot, sidestepped a flying Wade, and released a deep three.
Swish!
Han Sen buried it!
That made it seven straight points for him in the fourth.
As he exhaled visibly on the way back downcourt, the caras captured him in stark detail.
With steam rising from his body like a machine in overdrive, Han Sen resembled a cyberpunk figure straight out of a wasteland dystopia.
The arena buzzed with electricity, captivated by the spectacle.
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