The Golden Age of Basketball

Chapter 550 Stars
In the 1987-1988 season, we made tremendous efforts to achieve a three-peat.

It was a tough year, with injuries, arguments, and conflicts plaguing the entire season, seeping from the locker room into the basketball court.

Personally, I am at the peak of my skills and form, and I am full of confidence in myself, believing that I can play an even more important role on the court.

But the Portland Trail Blazers are still Forrest Gump's team, there's no doubt about that, no one can deny it, even I tell myself, you can't compete with Forrest Gump.

Competition exists among teammates, which is obvious; everyone wants to be the star on the field.

Especially when you're in your early 20s, young and energetic, and in the prime of your career, you can jump three feet high and fly over the basket to play.

In the summer of 1987, the Trail Blazers held a dunk contest, and I won first place. I could dunk from a 3.6-meter rim, which was probably the only thing Forrest Gump couldn't do.

During the season, Inman and Riley contacted me privately, asking if I was interested in leaving Portland to play elsewhere, as they were considering building a new team in Florida.

At that time, my mind was focused on winning the three-peat, so I refused and didn't want to think about it.

But Riley said something to me: "This is Forrest Gump's three-peat, not yours."

I admit I wavered for a moment. In fact, what Riley said was absurd. The championship belongs to everyone who contributes to the team (this is what he told me later, after I became his teammate).

However, my mindset did change at that time. It's hard for a young person to refuse the glory of being the number one hero, and it's also hard to give up the dream of becoming the absolute leader of a team.

I am a rather easygoing person, but I am proud and want to create my own achievements.

In 1988, we made it to the finals after a long and arduous journey, and then defeated the Washington Bullets to win our third consecutive championship.

The moment I won the championship, I felt a sense of liberation, both physically and mentally. It was one of the greatest moments I've ever experienced. We deliberately dragged the series back to our home court, and many celebrities came that night. We were standing at the center of the world.

However, with Forrest Gump at the very center, I admit he was unparalleled; under his leadership, the Trail Blazers were invincible.

I realized my own insignificance. I thought of myself as the moon over Portland, illuminating the dark earth with the sun's rays as it sets. I thought of myself as that in many games.

But at the moment of winning the three-peat, I realized that I was a star in Portland. My brilliance and figure could never be seen during the day, but only in the dead of night did I have the right to shine my little light.

But you should know that the stars in the sky are also fixed stars, just like the sun. In their own star systems, they may be even more radiant than the sun.

So in the summer of 1988, I decided to take my talents to the South Coast, to become a star in my own galaxy.

—Excerpt from Clyde Drexler's autobiography, *Clyde The Glide*, published in 2004.

On the morning of December 4th, Drexler overslept and didn't wake up until 9:30.

He quickly got dressed, said goodbye to his wife and daughter, and drove his Mercedes to LaSalle High School.

The Miami Heat rented a high school gym for their daily training sessions; it was a nice place on the Gulf Coast, with buildings painted in green and off-white.

Drexler drove at a leisurely pace. Training was scheduled to start at 10:00 AM, and he should have gotten up at 9:00 AM to get ready and then go to training.

But last night he attended a party in Miami. He didn't start the party, but the organizers used his name to attract people to attend. He went and had a great time.

Considering his wife and daughter, he didn't stay out overnight. He returned home very late and slept alone in the guest room so as not to wake them.

Drexler married his girlfriend Gaine in Houston in the summer of 88, and then they moved to Miami.

This year, his legal battle with his ex-girlfriend came to an end, and he signed a big new contract with the Heat, which will provide enough compensation for his daughter to come and live with him in Miami.

Miami is a great place. It's not as cold and damp as Portland, nor does it have the racial issues of Houston. It has a large immigrant population of color and is a true melting pot. If you have money, it's a happy tropical paradise.

Parties like last night can be attended every day. For any team playing an away game in Miami, it's hard for the players to stay in their rooms and watch TV in peace—in Portland, if there's heavy snow, they have to stay put.

Everyone goes out to feel the warm, salty sea breeze, bump into beautiful and sexy bikini-clad women, experience the hot South Coast atmosphere at music clubs, have a good meal at a Mexican restaurant, and then go to the cinema to watch "First Blood," the third installment in the series.

Nobody has time to think about basketball. What is basketball? Basketball is just the reason you're here, and a job, nothing more.

There are so many things here that can make you immerse yourself and enjoy yourself.

Drexler drove past the Beckley Center, a $3500 million commercial complex built in 1982 by the City of Miami, which integrates dining, retail, offices, entertainment and other functions, aiming to develop it into Miami's Times Square.

It was officially completed in 1986, but from the day it opened, it was destined to fail.

Due to its geographical location and the local consumer culture in Miami, Miami residents are not interested in such large commercial complexes.

This isn't Milwaukee, it's not Portland, where it's cold and people prefer to stay in a giant building that connects all the different areas.

In Miami, this giant complex is nicknamed the "pink elephant" by locals. Although it tries to appear cute and approachable, it cannot change its behemoth nature. Consumers do not like to shop or spend money in such places, after all, Miami has more beautiful beaches and palm trees.

By 1989, with Miami banning the construction of high-rise buildings, the high-rise office buildings at the Beckley Center could not be built, and the area became even more desolate, deserted, with its huge parking lot remaining empty.

Drexler looked out the car window at the solitary tower of the Beckley Center. For some reason, he missed Portland, missed the days of practicing until he was breathless, practicing from sunrise to sunset, missed the rain, snow, and frost there. Those days shaped him, gave him his skills, made him famous, brought him honors, and gave him the status he has today in Miami.

And, to make him more authentic.

At 9:59 a.m., Drexler arrived at the LaSalle High School basketball gym, got out of the car, picked up his bag, and ran into the gym.

He ran into Pat Riley at the door. Riley was wearing a white training t-shirt, his hair was neatly combed, his arms were crossed, and he was glaring at Drexler.

Good morning, coach.

"Why are you late again, Clyde?"

"Late? No, it's only 10 o'clock in a minute."

"A minute is about to pass."

"If you don't stop me, I'll be heading to the locker room right away."

"So I'm the one who made you late, right?"

"That's not what I meant... I meant I'm not late yet."

Riley looked grim, but he still stepped aside and let Drexler go into the gym to change into his training clothes in the locker room.

Theoretically speaking, Drexler was not late. Training started at 10 o'clock, but in Riley's mind, for a 10 o'clock training session, the players should be there by at least 9 o'clock.

If you are the team's star player, you should set an example by arriving before 8 o'clock.

When Drexler first arrived in Miami last season, he would usually arrive at the arena at 8:30 a.m. on training days.

He persevered for a season, and his performance in training and on the court has improved significantly. He is becoming a top star in the league.

But this season, Drexler has started to get lazy, only showing up at training sessions at the last minute.

Riley has very high expectations for his players, and he was eager to prove himself after joining the Heat.

Last season was quite successful, and this season he hopes the team can go even further and make the playoffs in the Eastern Conference.

In November, the Heat had a record of 6 wins and 8 losses, which Riley was very dissatisfied with.

In their last game, they lost to the Bulls. Jordan scored 36 points, while Drexler only managed 22.

Tomorrow the team will play the Trail Blazers, and Drexler, as the team's leader, is still so undisciplined, which makes Riley even more dissatisfied.

When it came time for training, Riley started pushing the team to higher intensity levels with non-stop high-intensity running and physical contact.

Anyone who slacked off even slightly would be reprimanded by Riley, with sharp whistles and curses echoing throughout the training hall.

After two hours of training in the morning, Riley told everyone to go eat, and then training would continue in the afternoon.

Drexler expressed his dissatisfaction, saying, "We have a match tomorrow, and we need some time to rest and adjust."

Riley said, "Didn't you get enough rest this morning?"

“Game day is different. Why exhaust yourself in practice? I know what I can do in a game. It’s just the Trail Blazers. I’m confident.”

"Are you sure you're confident you can beat Forrest Gump and end their winning streak?"

Riley's question left Drexler speechless. Did he really have confidence?

For some reason, Forrest Gump popped into Drexler's mind. He wondered what Forrest Gump would say.

After a moment of silence, Drexler called out to Riley, who was about to leave, and said, "I'm confident I'll score 50 points tomorrow night and win the game."

Drexler has never scored 50 points in his career.

Riley paused for a moment after hearing Drexler's words, gave Drexler a deep look, and said, "Take a break this afternoon."

He was determined to mold Drexler into Miami's Magic Johnson, but he always fell short of the top superstars in terms of ambition, always lacking something.

Riley tried to rouse him, again and again, while Clyde, like the moon in the sky, waxed and waned.

Now he thinks that perhaps only the Trail Blazers and Forrest Gump can ignite Clyde's fighting spirit and desire to win.

Like the sun illuminating the moon.

(End of this chapter)