After returning to Orlando and resting for a day, the Magic were at ho to face the challenge of the Digital People, led by Iverson.
The Digital People ca out swinging.
Late last season, the conflict between Iverson and Larry Brown beca public knowledge.
Iverson disliked Larry Brown’s strict, team-first style of basketball, while Brown, a renowned, old-school coach, had grown tired of Iverson’s freewheeling and undisciplined ways.
After two consecutive years of being eliminated by the Pacers, Larry Brown finally had enough. That sumr, he pushed for a trade to get rid of Iverson, the league’s newly crowned scoring champion.
But in the end, the complex four-team trade fell through.
Iverson, having endured the trade rumors, remained as defiant as ever. He vowed to make a coback and shut up everyone who had ever doubted him.
As a result, Iverson started the new season on a tear.
In the season opener against the Nicks, he dropped an insane 31 points, leading his team to a 29-point slaughter of the Nicks.
After another win in a back-to-back ga against the Raptors, Iverson still had a murderous glint in his eyes. In the first quarter, he scored 11 points with a mix of drives and shots.
His offensive onslaught left Rivers standing on the sideline, tension written all over his dark face.
Thankfully, Hill had made a smooth return.
Before the ga, Rivers had made a point of asking the team doctor, Joe Biling.
Biling had confidently assured him, patting his chest, that Hill’s ankle was perfectly fine.
Rivers knew that on yesterday’s day off, Biling had arranged for Hill to get so diagnostic scans at a private clinic, so he had reason to believe him.
During a tiout, Rivers pulled Tracy McGrady aside and urged him to play more decisively.
"He’s the scoring champ, an All-Star, but you’re taller. You have to use your advantage. Trust my eye for talent—you have the potential to be a scoring champion too," Rivers said, pointing to his own eyes and passionately encouraging Tracy McGrady, spit flying with his words.
Tracy McGrady nodded vigorously, a new light shining in his sleepy eyes.
Rivers then turned to Hill. "Grant, you’re our team’s leader. It’s precisely when we’re behind that we need you to step up and lead us to victory."
Although Hill and Tracy McGrady had equally large contracts, Hill—who carried the monikers of "Jordan’s successor" and "the best small forward"—was unquestionably the leader of this Magic team.
Hill didn’t say much, rely nodding firmly.
But his eyes couldn’t help but drift downward for a glance at his left foot.
’The two days of rest helped the soreness in my ankle, but I still felt so discomfort when I drove hard in practice this morning. It’s not a big deal, though. I can play through it. The team needs .’
After the tiout, Hill was the first to make a move. Facing George Lynch, who was slow to move laterally, Hill exploded with a single step, blowing past him and driving straight for the paint.
However, waiting in the paint was Theo Ratliff, an undersized big man known for his defense and shot-blocking.
Switching to a reverse layup and fighting through contact, Hill relied on his soft touch to sink the difficult shot.
Hill’s tough basket sounded the charge for the Magic’s coback attempt.
By halfti, the Magic were only trailing by one point.
But in the third quarter, Iverson went on a tear and abandoned all cooperation with his teammates. He was like a solitary knight charging at windmills, constantly getting the ball and launching himself toward the rim.
He went 5-for-9 in the quarter, tacking on another 12 points.
The deficit widened once again.
Seeing that Tracy McGrady couldn’t find the basket, Hill grew anxious. His own shooting touch wasn’t great today either, possibly because he’d rested for a ga.
But he could still rely on his ability to drive.
Amid the Magic fans’ chants of "MVP," Hill seed to transform into a lone hero just like Iverson, trying desperately to keep the deficit from growing with driving layups, pull-up mid-range jumpers, and powerful turn-around post moves.
Hill could feel his body growing heavy, and his breath ca in ragged gasps.
His calves, especially, no longer felt light and nimble. They felt as if they were filled with lead.
But a glance at the scoreboard showed only a four-point deficit. Gritting his teeth, Hill forced himself to make another push.
The mont he caught the ball, he dipped his shoulder and started his move from the elbow. Ignoring the onrushing George Lynch, he gave a slight feint to the right, then imdiately pulled back, intending to drive straight to the hoop from the left.
But in that single motion, the instant his left foot planted—whether from not planting with enough force or because the floor was too clean—his high-friction sneaker caught on the hardwood for a split second, even as his body had already completed the change of direction.
His feet tangled up under him. With a sudden, piercing pain, Hill cried out and crumpled to the ground.
George Lynch imdiately raised his hands, showing he had nothing to do with it.
The referee’s whistle blew sharply.
On the sideline, Rivers, who had been pacing anxiously, instantly froze solid.
Behind him, team doctor Joe Biling, who had been sitting in a corner of the bench, shot to his feet. His sparse hair was completely white.
Paul Houston beside him gasped and imdiately waved at the head referee, signaling for the ga to be stopped.
As the head referee signaled a stop to the ga, Houston shot onto the court.
Joe Biling imdiately followed.
On the court, Tracy McGrady and the others had already gathered around. Hill was sprawled on the floor, fists clenched, his face contorted in pain as he groaned.
"Grant, how are you?"
Houston leaned down and asked anxiously.
His eyes were filled with panic; he thought he had just vaguely seen Hill twist his ankle.
What was worse, it was his left ankle—the one he’d had surgery on.
"My left ankle."
Hill gritted his teeth, his whole body trembling with pain.
Biling imdiately began to examine Hill’s left ankle.
After only a mont, he imdiately waved to another mber of his team, sports physician Richie Jennings, signaling for him to bring over a wheelchair.
At this sight, Rivers’s vision went dark. A single thought echoed in his mind: ’Please, please don’t let it be serious.’
’We paid so much to sign Hill, and counting tonight, he’s only played two gas for the Magic!’
As the entire arena of fans watched in disbelief, many holding their heads in their hands, Hill was quickly wheeled back to the locker room.
Biling set to work, carefully examining Hill’s left ankle.
Hill clenched his fists, watching him with nervous apprehension.
He wasn’t afraid of the pain; he was afraid of how an injury would affect his ga.
"Grant, try to stay calm. I don’t think it’s anything major," Biling said comfortingly. As he felt the ankle, he didn’t find any obvious structural damage.
"But we’ll still need to go to the hospital and get an MRI to be certain."
After Hill went down with the injury, the Magic, unsurprisingly, lost the ga by a disappointing seven points.
But Rivers no longer cared about the outco. He rushed through the post-ga press conference and made a beeline for Florida Hospital.
The team’s general manager, John Gabriel, was just arriving as well.
The two n t in the corridor and exchanged a look, both with incredibly heavy hearts.
All they could do now was pray that Hill was okay.
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