If someone had said before the season that the Kings would make it to the NBA Finals, no one would've believed it.
Not even Han Sen himself.
But like Tyronn Lue said in his locker room speech—eight years ago, nobody believed the Mavericks could run the table and win it all either.
And this wasn't just a matter of talent.
From the very first round against the Spurs, it was clear: this Kings squad wasn't as strong overall as the Grizzlies or the Cavaliers in their peak years.
Honestly, if they had faced the Rockets in Round 2, they might not have even made it this far.
But fate had other plans—they got the Pelicans instead. And New Orleans relied heavily on LeBron James.
Then came Lue's five-out revolution. It just so happened to strike right at Golden State's Achilles' heel, allowing the Kings to barely scrape by.
Still, no one could deny the real reason behind it all—
Han Sen.
He was averaging 45 points per game in the playoffs. More consistent than the regular season. Even Jordan couldn't do that.
If the Kings end up winning the title, it would be the truest definition of a solo championship—not surpassing Jordan…
…but leaving him behind.
Of course, that's only if the Kings actually win it all.
Even the Kings players knew how much luck had carried them this far—and so did the public.
Sure, they weren't up against the Celtics, arguably the strongest team in the East. But the Bucks? They were still far superior to the Kings in terms of raw talent.
And more importantly, Lue's signature five-out scheme?
Useless against Milwaukee.
That's what made this different from the old Warriors' Death Lineup days.
To draw a comparison: the Kings facing the Bucks now felt eerily similar to the Pelicans facing the Cavaliers last season. Both were Finals teams—but one wrong step, and they'd be swept out of the building.
The only variable?
Han Sen.
When you're the greatest player in history—anything's possible.
---
Ahead of the Finals, ESPN held their usual online fan poll. The results?
Shocking.
Over 70% of fans believed the Kings would win the championship.
ESPN thought it had to be a mistake. They reran the poll, this time making the reason for the vote mandatory.
The results stayed the same.
And those reasons revealed the truth.
It wasn't that people thought the Kings had a better shot—it's that they wanted the Kings to win.
A lot of that came down to Han Sen's massive global fanbase. With the legacy he'd built, blind loyalty wasn't uncommon.
But even more than that… it was about disdain for the Bucks.
A team that made the Finals off a dirty foot-slide?
Whether it was the Warriors, the Bucks, or even LeBron's Cavaliers back in the day—any team that got here by injuring its way through the competition was loathed.
That kind of thing? Even worse than forming a superteam.
At least a superteam took time to build chemistry. This?
Just stick your foot out and watch the other guy fall.
In the eyes of fans, the Bucks were now the ultimate villain.
And Han Sen and the Kings?
They were the embodiment of justice.
Who doesn't want to see the good guys win?
The Bucks had home-court advantage. The day before Game 1 of the Finals, the Kings touched down in Milwaukee.
A small northern city, not too different from Cleveland in terms of latitude—maybe even further north. In winter, it was the kind of place where the streets were quiet and cold, barely a car in sight.
Han Sen was no stranger to this city. He'd spent years in the Eastern Conference, and the Bucks were in the same division as the Cavaliers. He knew the territory.
But his most vivid memory of Milwaukee actually came from before he crossed over to this world.
Back then, Yi Jianlian had been drafted by the Bucks. Some chinese fans even jokingly referred to the Giannis-era Bucks as "Post-Yi Milwaukee."
And sure enough, when Game 1 tipped off, Han noticed a fan courtside still wearing a #9 Bucks jersey.
This season, the Bucks had started playing in a brand-new arena. But Fiserv Forum remained the smallest arena in the NBA, seating only around 17,000.
Small venue, but massive passion.
Milwaukee might be a small market, and their post-2000s record wasn't much to brag about—but the franchise did have its glory days.
Back in 1971, led by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar—then still called Lew Alcindor—they captured their first and only NBA title.
This Finals appearance marked their first in 48 years.
And after that long of a wait, fans didn't care how the team got here—they just wanted to see it end with a ring.
Posters of Giannis Antetokounmpo were plastered everywhere. Big foam heads, banners, T-shirts—Milwaukee had fully embraced the "Greek Freak."
And really, if the Bucks hadn't drafted Giannis, who knows how long it would've taken them to climb back to relevance?
The Kings' young players looked around the arena, expressions full of contempt.
A Finals berth built on dirty tactics wasn't just frowned upon by the fans—the players hated it too.
Han Sen, however, stayed serious.
Giannis had once attended his personal training camp, years ago. At the time, Han had even hoped the kid might not turn out like the Giannis from his past life's "history."
But in the end… he was wrong.
That reminded him of one truth—people change.
Even LeBron, back in his first Cavaliers stint, had once wanted to win it all the right way.
But after failure after failure, his mentality quietly shifted.
As LeBron fans love to say: "He just wanted it so badly."
Giannis wasn't all that different.
Maybe even more desperate.
Maybe he thought—this was his one shot.
Han could understand that. But understanding it didn't mean he respected it.
On the contrary, he despised it even more than his teammates did.
But he also knew one thing:
Shameless doesn't mean weak.
This Bucks team was no joke.
If the Kings wanted to beat them, they had to treat them like the real threat they were.
No distractions.
No shortcuts.
Just all-out war.
---
After the opening ceremony, the starting lineups were announced:
Kings: Mitchell, Hield, Han Sen, Tatum, Marc Gasol
Bucks: Bledsoe, Brogdon, Middleton, Antetokounmpo, Brook Lopez
Coach Budenholzer raised an eyebrow when he saw the Kings' lineup. He couldn't quite figure out what Lue was planning. Sure, Tatum was solid on defense—but putting him on Giannis? That just seemed like asking for punishment.
Still, there was a hint of anticipation on his face. Lue loved experimenting with funky schemes. But just because one of his wild plans worked before… didn't mean it would work again.
The camera panned to Lue.
On the surface, it looked like a bold, creative adjustment. If it worked, he'd be hailed a genius. If it failed, people would say he was just doing too much.
And Lue's expression? Surprisingly anxious. He didn't look confident. If anything, he looked like he wasn't sure this plan would work either.
The game tipped off—Marc Gasol outjumped Brook Lopez, giving the Kings the first possession.
Han Sen immediately went to work on the low block, posting up Brogdon.
One thing was clear—whether it was tonight's starting lineup or the five-out sets from before, Lue was doing everything to maximize Han's low-post advantage.
It might seem outdated in today's NBA, but the playoffs had already proven—Han Sen was the kind of guy who could dominate no matter the era.
Budenholzer wasn't as stubborn as Steve Kerr. The moment Han got the ball, he signaled for the double team.
Giannis came flying over with a hard trap, but Han read it perfectly and kicked it out to Tatum.
Tatum gave a quick head fake to shake Middleton, took one dribble, pulled up from mid-range—splash.
Lue finally exhaled on the sideline. The worry melted off his face.
Playoff basketball really was a trial by fire. And the Kings' young core? They were starting to believe in themselves. They were learning how to handle pressure.
On the other end, Bledsoe pushed the ball up the floor—
And suddenly, the crowd roared.
Because the guy guarding Giannis?
Wasn't Tatum.
It was Han Sen.
Everything suddenly made sense.
The strange lineup.
Lue's nervous look.
This wasn't his scheme.
It was Han Sen's call.
Han hadn't been sure he could guard Giannis at first—the size difference was real.
But watching Kawhi in the East Semis had changed his mind. After making the Finals, the first thing Han did was study film of Raptors vs. Bucks—diving deep into the way Kawhi defended Giannis.
After that, he went straight to Lue:
"I want to guard him."
Lue wasn't worried about whether Han could stop Giannis. They'd worked together long enough—Han wouldn't volunteer unless he was sure.
What concerned Lue was the same issue as in the Warriors series: Would defending Giannis sap Han's energy on offense?
But Tatum's growth so far had backed up what Han had told him:
"Our young guys are ready."
Basketball isn't a one-man game. You can't win a championship by yourself.
Sure, Han had dragged this team to the Finals with a Herculean solo effort, but every round, the Kings' young guns had stepped up.
Maybe they weren't as freakishly gifted as someone like Jokic, but Han had handpicked them—and they were proving their worth.
Back to the game—
Giannis tried to back down, but Han fronted him, staying half a step ahead to deny position.
Meanwhile, Mitchell hounded Bledsoe on the perimeter, pressuring the ball hard.
Bledsoe couldn't find the angle to feed Giannis. Instead, the possession ended with a missed three from Middleton.
Han guarding Giannis was just part of the plan. The Kings had a full defensive system cooked up by Stan Van Gundy.
As the game unfolded, the strategy became more and more apparent:
- Apply heavy pressure to the ball-handler
- Deny Giannis touches as much as possible
- Trap hard when he does drive
- Give up some open looks to weaker shooters if needed
Tatum, Mitchell, and Hield all shared one defensive trait—they were smart, aware, and instinctive help defenders.
And sure enough, the plan worked.
Giannis struggled to get the ball. And even when he did, he wasn't some brilliant facilitator. His assist numbers were a little misleading.
Like LeBron, most of his playmaking came off drives. Those kick-outs were predictable and could be rotated onto.
And Van Gundy knew what he was doing. He chose which shooters to leave open.
Bledsoe and Brook Lopez? Left alone.
Brogdon and Middleton? Covered tight.
The Bucks crowd started out electric. But as the game went on, the energy deflated—like a crashing tech stock.
This wasn't the game they expected.
When ESPN dropped that pre-Finals poll showing 70% backing the Kings, Bucks fans scoffed. Pure bias, they said. Han Sen stans being irrational.
They expected a beatdown to shut everyone up.
Instead?
The louder the Kings roared on the floor, the louder their supporters got online.
Most fans couldn't see the defensive subtleties. They just saw Han Sen—the MVP—throwing himself at Giannis on defense, and shutting him down.
They saw the fire, the fight, the anime-level plot armor.
And on offense, the Kings' young guys were playing so steady, it turned Twitter into an apology thread.
People had flamed them all playoffs—saying Han was carrying dead weight.
But now?
Tatum was balling out.
By halftime, the Kings led 58–46.
They'd held the Bucks to under 50 points in two quarters.
That defense?
Absolutely airtight.
But as the second half approached, a new fear emerged on social media—
Would Giannis go back to that?
People remembered how he took Kyrie out of the playoffs with that dirty foot slide. If he'd do it once, why not again?
Sure, maybe he wouldn't dare do it to Han Sen…
But what about Tatum?
What about Mitchell?
---
As the second half tipped off, the Kings stuck to their game plan. They kept their pace and discipline on both ends.
The Bucks came out scrapping harder—but couldn't cut into the lead.
And thankfully?
Giannis didn't go for another dirty play.
Turns out, he still had some shame.
He wasn't LeBron-level thick-skinned just yet.
He still had hesitation.
In the end, the Kings walked out of Milwaukee with a 113–100 win.
Box Score:
- Bledsoe: 24 pts, 5 ast
- Giannis: 5-of-16 FG, 12 pts, 23 reb, 7 ast, 4 blk, 8 TOs
- Han Sen: 43 pts, 9 reb, 8 ast, 3 stl
- Tatum: 21 pts, 11 reb
- Mitchell: 19 pts
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When the final buzzer sounded, social media exploded.
Justice had won.
The real King was one step closer to the crown.