After the halftime break, both teams quietly sent in their substitutes. Jake had made an important call, moving LaVine to the point guard position. Recently, LaVine had been a bit wild, neglecting his ball-handling and assist work in favor of focusing on becoming a 3-and-D player. While most rookies picked late in the lottery would be content playing a supporting role, Jake had sharper instincts. Asking LaVine to settle for that role would be like using a cannon to swat a fly. No, he needed a different approach. With the Kings' original backup point guard Thornton traded to the Cavaliers, CJ was the only reliable ball handler left, making it crucial for LaVine to step up as a secondary option.
As LaVine dribbled to the top of the arc, his fellow rookie, Jokic, came up to set a screen, neatly blocking Mills. LaVine noticed Splitter sagging back into the paint, showing no intention of stepping out to contest his shot.
Was he being underestimated? LaVine thought to himself, feeling a spark of defiance. Without hesitation, he bent his arms and launched a smooth jumper. The ball sailed in a beautiful arc, sinking into the basket.
"The Kings got an easy one there," Kenny Smith commented from the studio. "You don't often see a defensive lapse like that from the Spurs, who are top-notch in defensive efficiency, especially for a reigning champion."
As soon as Kenny finished speaking, the sideline referee signaled a timeout—just 16 seconds into the second half.
"Huh?" Kenny glanced at the clock and laughed. "Calling a timeout this early? That's so Popovich—still as stubborn as ever."
But on the Kings' bench, Mike Malone and Jake weren't laughing. Despite the seemingly absurd timing, the message Popovich was sending was clear and dangerous. Even with a 21-point lead, he demanded perfect defense and execution on every single possession. Facing a coach with that level of intensity was no joke.
"Oden, get ready to play," Malone whispered to the towering figure on the bench.
Oden, sitting like a fortress at the end of the bench, gave a small but determined nod. "Yes, coach," he responded in a calm, steady tone. Casspi, seated beside him, glanced over in curiosity. Oden's eyes were burning with intensity as he watched every movement on the court, like a bear awakening from a long hibernation, hungry and eager.
"I won't mess this up again," Oden muttered to himself, quietly vowing to seize this opportunity.
After a few more possessions, Malone pulled Jokic from the game and sent Oden in. At the same time, the Spurs' second unit, led by the crafty Boris Diaw, was executing well. Despite Jokic and LaVine's efforts, the Kings still found themselves trailing 80-64, down by 16 points.
"The Kings just subbed out Jokic and brought in Oden. What's the logic here?" Barkley asked, puzzled. "Jokic has been crucial for their ball movement. I don't get it."
Barkley's confusion was short-lived. On the very next possession, LaVine dribbled into the half-court, spotted Oden deep in the paint, and lobbed the ball to him. Oden took a deep breath, planted his feet, and backed Diaw down like a bulldozer. The Frenchman, unable to hold his ground, stumbled back a step. Sensing an opening, Oden spun quickly and finished with a smooth hook shot. The ball kissed the net.
The Spurs missed their next shot, and as backup center Baynes prepared to grab the offensive rebound, a massive black hand appeared out of nowhere. Oden soared over him, snatching the ball cleanly. Baynes, left in disbelief, couldn't comprehend how he'd been outmuscled.
Oden's impact didn't stop there. On the next Kings' possession, LaVine tossed a high lob, and Oden, powering through both Baynes and Diaw, leaped high, caught the ball, and slammed it home with authority.
"Wow! What did I just witness?" Barkley shouted, standing up from his chair, hands on his head. "A fallen star has just re-emerged! Oden's back!"
But Oden didn't hear the praises. His focus was locked in. With the first two successful plays, his confidence skyrocketed. He was finally healthy, facing an opponent known for playing a soft, finesse game. This was his time, his moment.
The rest of the third quarter became Oden's personal showcase. Diaw, struggling to keep up, seemed to lose his magic. Every time Oden got the ball, he dominated in the paint, and the Frenchman made uncharacteristic mistakes in both passing and positioning.
Oden was no longer the forgotten talent; he was the unstoppable force the Kings desperately needed.
Mike Malone saw the perfect moment and quickly adjusted the team's strategy to center the offense around Oden, the "Great Emperor." Play after play, the Kings attacked the heart of the Spurs' defense, using Oden's renewed strength to exploit the gaps.
"Pop, should I...?" Duncan, who had been resting on the bench, felt the growing tension as he watched Oden dominate. He glanced at Coach Popovich, ready to jump in and stabilize the game.
"No, it's not the right time," Popovich said, arms folded, eyes focused as he analyzed the situation. "If you go in now, it'll play right into their hands. They want you to try to stabilize things early, wear yourself out, and then they'll bring their starters back to finish the job."
Popovich's eyes gleamed with recognition. "This kid is smart—he's brought Oden back from the brink."
Popovich's surprise was understandable. Oden, once hailed as the next big thing, had been drafted ahead of Kevin Durant as the number one pick. But years of injuries had plagued him, and the league had all but written him off. Every team that tried to rehabilitate him had failed, concluding that his body was too broken to return to form. Yet, here he was, fighting like a man reborn.
"You need to save your strength for Cousins later, not waste it now," Popovich added, his voice calm but firm.
"So what should I do?" Duncan asked, his usual stoic demeanor masking any frustration.
"Wait," Popovich said, his sharp gaze never leaving the court. "Pray Baynes and the others can hold him off."
But the prayers went unanswered. Baynes, despite his size and effort, couldn't withstand the relentless force of Oden, who seemed like a beast finally unleashed after years of restraint. Each time Oden crashed into the paint, Baynes took the brunt of the impact, struggling to stop Oden's determined marches to the basket.
Bang! With another powerful dunk, the rim trembled as Oden's sheer strength seemed to reverberate through the arena. Arco Arena, once filled with the sound of roaring fans, had fallen into a stunned silence. The Kings fans couldn't believe what they were witnessing. The towel-waving benchwarmer was singlehandedly dismantling the Spurs' vaunted second unit.
Season ticket holders and longtime Kings fans, many of whom had been loyal to the team for decades, watched with wide eyes, struggling to process what was happening.
"Is this really... our team?" an elderly fan muttered, disbelief in his voice as he watched Oden dominate the game.
Barkley, meanwhile, sat in the studio, scratching his bald head in confusion. "This makes no sense! Oden was a disaster last season in Miami. How has he turned into a completely different player just a year later?"
It wasn't just Barkley who was puzzled; sports commentators across the country were just as baffled by Oden's miraculous resurgence.
"Is there magic in Sacramento?" Barkley mused. "Can miracles really happen in the NBA?"
These questions would have to wait for another time. Oden was in full control, overpowering the Spurs' big men and chipping away at the Spurs' 21-point lead. The Kings, energized by Oden's dominant performance, clawed their way back into the game.
As the buzzer sounded at the end of the third quarter, the scoreboard read 88-83. The Spurs' lead had been cut down to just 5 points, setting up a tense and thrilling final quarter.