The Pistons called a timeout, and Artest cursed loudly, stomping his foot in frustration. As he looked up, he saw Roger smiling at him, like he was watching a joke.
Artest's mind was filled with Roger's words: "I will defeat you like this countless times. I'll keep looking back at you, enjoying the pathetic sight of you, this loser."
Now, Roger was doing exactly that.
A fire burned in Artest's heart. He couldn't control himself as he walked towards Roger, fists clenched.
Damn, this bastard dares to mock me!
I'll make him regret this! Yeah, that's exactly what I'll do!
Screw the game, screw it all!
At this moment, a large hand pressed down on Artest's shoulder: "Ron, where are you going? Our bench is on the other side!"
Big Ben appeared in time, pulling Artest back to reality.
He almost lost control, sweating heavily, not knowing what he was just thinking.
What good would it do to beat up Roger? Would it change anything?
