NBA: Northeast China's spectacular dunks sweep the entire league.

Old Nelson stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray, leaned back, and the chair creaked.

"Speak," he said, his voice hoarse, carrying the weariness of a whole day of lecturing.

Lin Hao didn't sit down, but stood in front of the desk, opened his notebook, and pushed the first page up.

"Old man, in three exhibition games, we allowed an average of 103.7 points per game. Berkeley, Stanford, Santa Clara, none of the three college teams can rank in the top 50 in the NCAA offensively."

Old Nelson glanced at the documents but didn't say anything.

Lin Hao turned another page: "This is our detailed defensive efficiency data—we allow 1.18 points per possession when defending pick-and-rolls, which is the worst in the league; we allow 1.24 points per possession when defending strong-side and weak-side transitions, which is also the worst; and we allow 1.09 points per possession when defending off-ball cuts, which is still the worst."

"How did you calculate this data?" Old Nelson looked up.

"I scrutinized every frame of the video, a total of 127 defensive possessions across the three games, and I memorized every single one." Lin Hao's tone was calm, but every word landed like a hammer blow. "Old man, our problem isn't that the players aren't trying hard enough, it's the system. Nobody knows where they should stand, when to switch, or where to cover. It's all about instinct; if they make a save, it's luck, if they miss, it's an open man."

Old Nelson was silent for a few seconds, then reached out and pulled the notebook closer, reading line by line.

Lin Hao turned to the third page: "These are the tactical statistics of three teams against us. Burke used 21 pick-and-rolls with a 52% success rate; Stanford used 18 strong-side transitions with a 61% success rate; Santa Clara used 15 off-ball screens with a 57% success rate. Three different opponents, three different tactics, but the result against us is the same—easy scoring."

"What do you want to say?" Old Nelson's voice turned somber.

"What I want to say is that we need a coach who is specifically in charge of defense." Lin Hao looked directly into Don Nelson's eyes. "Someone who can build a defensive system for us, teach everyone how to position themselves, when to switch, and make us as organized on the defensive end as we are on the offensive end."

Old Nelson tapped his fingers twice on the table, very slowly.

"Tom Thibodeau." He said the name with an indescribable complexity in his voice.

"right."

How did you know it was him?

Lin Hao pulled out a sheet of printed paper that had been folded several times from his notebook, unfolded it, and found a handwritten analysis report on it.

"Thibodo served as an assistant coach for the Rockets for three years, overseeing the defensive system. During those three years, the Rockets' defensive efficiency rose from 19th to 3rd in the league, their pick-and-roll defensive efficiency rose from 22nd to 4th, and their weak-side rotation efficiency rose from 25th to 5th. He didn't rely on talent—the Rockets' roster during those three years consisted of Kevin Cato and Eddie Griffin in the paint, and Steve Francis and Catino Mobley on the perimeter; they didn't have a single All-Defensive Team player. But he molded these players into a strong defensive team."

Old Nelson picked up the paper, looked at it for a few seconds, and put it down.

"His defense is built on a slow pace. He runs the time, reduces the number of rallies, and drags the game into a quagmire. It's completely different from my run-and-gun style."

"That's his style of play with the Rockets, because Van Gundy made him do it that way," Lin Hao insisted. "But I've studied his defensive philosophy from his college days—his core wasn't slowness, but quick rotations and tough switching. He didn't require players to sit in the box; he wanted players to be able to switch, help out, and defend every position. Think about it, old man, if we can grab the rebound the moment the opponent shoots and launch a fast break immediately—Thibodo's defense won't slow down our offense; instead, it will create more fast break opportunities for our run-and-gun offense."

Old Nelson didn't immediately object. He picked up a cigar, intended to light it, but then put it down again.

Lin Hao knew that the old man was hesitating.

He turned to the last page of the notebook, where there was only one line of text, circled in red pen:

"Offense wins the regular season, defense wins the championship. We can run, but we can't just run."

Old Nelson stared at that line of text for a long time.

The office was so quiet you could hear the clock on the wall ticking, one tick after another.

Two full minutes passed before old Nelson finally spoke.

"How do you know Thibodeau is willing to come? Van Gundy treasures him, the Rockets won't let him go."