By Charlie Thaddeus | Pounding The Rock (PtR), 2025-04-08 01:45:00
由生成式人工智能翻译，译文内容可能不准确或不完整，以原文为准。
重建是一项肮脏的生意，但总得有人去做
夺旗游戏
作者：查理
内景. 黑暗房间 – 夜晚
一个简单的灯泡在角落里发出微弱的光。
房间中央摆着一张纸牌桌。两把椅子。
一个年轻人（ 蒂尔先生 ）坐在其中一把椅子上，等待着。他的脸隐藏在阴影中——难以辨认。
接近30岁。一件完美褶皱的纽扣衬衫外面套着一件定制外套。精干，充满活力。一个眼神疲惫的信徒。
突然，门开了。第二个人（ 平克先生 ），年纪稍长，走了进来，关上了身后的门。
年过50。穿着剪裁得体的西装。领带松开。黑白相间的胡茬，总是眯着眼睛。举止像一个知道太多，睡得太少的人。
两人互相凝视着，观察着对方。
最后，蒂尔先生开口了：
蒂尔先生
完成了吗？
平克先生
完成了。附加赛已经不再是一种选择。
这将是连续第六个赛季无缘季后赛。
一项球队历史纪录。
蒂尔先生
我担心这不是我们想要创造的纪录。
平克先生
不。不是的。
但却是必要的。
蒂尔先生
必须如此。
平克先生
当你身处困境时，唯一的出路就是穿过去。
*平克先生 * 在桌旁坐下。他从包里拿出一瓶不起眼的棕色烈酒。猛喝了一口。
蒂尔先生
我只是以为这次会不一样。
我以为那个法国小子会，你知道的，改变一切。
实现飞跃。建立新世界秩序。所有这些。
我以为我们已经准备好了。
平克先生
你当然这么认为。
你还年轻。
你想立刻得到一切，越快越好。
没有耐心。没有自律。现在，现在，现在。
我总是听到你们这些年轻人这么说。
蒂尔先生
这不公平。一点也不公平！
我们并不是想要现在得到一切！
我们只是想要一点点。多一点点。
没有什么疯狂的东西——只是想多一些动静，就这样。
平克先生
呸。动静。
你不是想要动静。你想要荣耀，不管那意味着什么。
你想要一些可以谈论的东西。可以沾沾自喜的东西。可以在网上与人争论的东西。
你不在乎它是如何发生的，你只是想让它发生。
蒂尔先生
(他的声音逐渐提高)
你很苦涩。你又老又苦涩又迷茫。
你和我一样不喜欢这样。
所有这些偷偷摸摸的在黑暗中活动，提交伤病报告，
输给开拓者，为了更好的乐透签位而算计——诸如此类的事情。
你讨厌它。你讨厌我们已经变成的样子，但你竟然有胆量
来这里教训我？关于我的耐心？关于我的优先事项？
我从小就接受冠军篮球的熏陶。马刺之道。
邓肯、帕克、吉诺比利。那是我的球队。那是我的一切——
我所要求的只是看到球场上有一支我能认出来的球队！
平克先生
一支你能够认出来的球队？一支你能够认出来的球队？？
你以为你的那支珍贵的球队是打哪来的？
你以为蒂姆·邓肯(Tim Duncan)是从空气中变出来的？
你以为篮球仙女拿着一根魔法棒降临
并用世界上最完美的小篮球队祝福了你那特别的脑袋？
长大点吧！
我在那儿。我在战壕里，在96年的时候调整大卫·罗宾逊(David Robinson)的背伤。
当他的骄傲试图让他重返赛场时，我也在那里，
我们不得不策划一次足部骨折，以让他彻底远离赛场。
*蒂尔先生 * 沮丧地站起身，朝灯走去。他怒火中烧——他知道平克先生是对的，但他讨厌这样。
*平克先生 * 继续闷闷不乐地喝酒。
蒂尔先生
(轻声地)
只是…我以为我们已经结束这一切了。
我们卖掉了我们喜欢的球员。我们有系统地拆除了所有东西，直到夷为平地——
而且它奏效了。它该死的奏效了。
我们得到了最终的奖品。我们所能得到的最好的奖品。
平克先生
没错。
蒂尔先生
我们本该准备就绪！
为什么我们还在做这些？为什么我们还在追逐一些虚无缥缈的梦想？
这感觉很贪婪。这感觉不对劲。这感觉…绝望。
平克先生
因为我们没有准备好。
*蒂尔先生 * 慢慢地重新坐回座位。
*平克先生 * 继续说道。
平克先生
我们没有准备好。维克多（文班亚马(Victor Wembanyama)）还不够。斯蒂芬·卡斯尔(Stephon Castle)还不够。
他们永远都不够。在这个联盟里不行。现在更不行。
你不能只是得到一个球员，然后围绕他选一些好秀。再引进一两个老将。
这不是它的运作方式。
你需要一个球员，然后你需要下一个。再下一个。
你必须不断尝试。
你不能坐在那里，希望有人能在未来找到一个跳投，
或者你会在第二轮偶然发现下一个东欧超级巨星。
这支球队。这些人。
他们无法摆脱困境，靠自己建立起来。
蒂尔先生
雷霆队做到了！他们从零开始建立起来的！
平克先生
(突然站起来，打翻了他的饮料，大喊)
雷霆队从一个失败的州立球队那里偷走了一个划时代的超级巨星，
这个球队太渴望一丝成功了，
以至于他们看不到眼前六英寸的地方。
房间安静了下来。
两人互相凝视着。
只有烈酒缓缓从瓶子里流出的微弱声音。
他们坐回桌旁，坐直身体。
平克先生
我不想听关于雷霆队的事情。
普雷斯蒂做了他该做的事情——顺便说一句，这是我们教他的。
他囤积选秀权，他欺骗了快船队，让他们送给他一个球星，然后他选了一个高个子。
他让全世界都相信这都是某种总体计划的一部分——
但我告诉你那是什么。
那是运气，伪装成分析。那是良好的公关。
当然，他们做得很好。他们做得“对”。
但不要坐在这里，装作他们破解了某种密码。
你知道他们做了什么吗？
他们等待着。
他们很无聊。
联盟允许他们无聊，因为没有人关心在俄克拉荷马城发生了什么。
蒂尔先生
但即使这样，它也可能无法成功。经过这一切之后。
所有的痛苦。所有的伤病。所有无聊的夜晚和糟糕的失利。
我们正在把这个赛季扔进下水道…为了什么？
平克先生
为了一个机会。
孩子，一切都只是为了一个机会。
一个它可能会成功的机会。
一个重新获得你一直在追逐的某种魔力的机会。
这就是方法。
这是唯一的方法。
传来一阵急促的敲门声。
三下急促的敲击。然后是沉默。
*蒂尔先生 * 和 *平克先生 * 互相看了一眼，立刻警觉起来。
门吱呀一声打开了。
第三个人（ 橙色先生 ）走了进来。冷静。沉着。好像他一直在倾听。
他拿着一个笔记本和一个巨大的文件夹，里面几乎堆满了用工整的笔迹写下的笔记。他关上了身后的门。一言不发。
橙色先生
(冷静地，带着一丝微笑)
你们这些家伙还在哭吗，或者我们可以开始工作了吗？
淡出。
点击查看原文：What We Learned from the Spurs loss to the Blazers
What We Learned from the Spurs loss to the Blazers
Rebuilding’s a dirty business, but someone’s gotta do it
CAPTURE THE FLAG
Written by Charlie
INT. DARK ROOM – NIGHT
A single, simple lamp glows in the corner.
A card table sits in the center. Two chairs.
A YOUNG MAN (MR. TEAL) sits in one of them, waiting. His face is hidden in shadow—imperceptible.
Late 20s. A perfectly rumpled button-down under a tailored jacket. Lean, wired energy. A believer with tired eyes.
Suddenly, the door opens. A SECOND MAN (MR. PINK), older, enters and closes it behind him.
Early 50s. Sharp suit. Loosened tie. Salt-and-pepper stubble and a permanent squint. Carries himself like a man who knows too much and sleeps too little.
The two stare at each other for a moment, taking it all in.
Finally, Mr. Teal speaks:
MR. TEAL
Is it done?
MR. PINK
It’s done. The play-in is no longer an option.
That’ll be six straight seasons without a playoff appearance.
A franchise record.
MR. TEAL
Not the kind of records we want to be in the business of setting, I’m afraid.
MR. PINK
No. No it’s not.
Necessary though.
MR. TEAL
It must be.
MR. PINK
When you’re in a hole, the only way out is through.
Mr. Pink sits down at the table. He pulls a nondescript bottle of brown liquor out of his bag. Takes a long pull.
MR. TEAL
I just thought this was going to be the one though.
I thought the French kid was going to, you know, change everything.
Make a leap. New World Order. All of that.
I thought we were ready for it.
MR. PINK
Of course you did.
You’re young.
You want it all right now, as soon as possible.
No patience. No discipline. Now, now, now.
That’s all I ever hear from you kids.
MR. TEAL
That’s not fair. Not fair at all!
We don’t want everything right now!
We just want a little bit. A little bit more.
Nothing crazy or anything—just a little action, that’s it.
MR. PINK
Bah. Action.
You don’t want action. You want glory, whatever that means.
You want something to talk about. To gloat about. To argue with people on the internet about.
You don’t care how it happens, you just want it to happen.
MR. TEAL
(his voice steadily rising)
You’re bitter. You’re old and bitter and lost.
You don’t like this any more than I do.
All the sneaking around in the dark, filing injury reports,
losing to the Blazers, angling for lottery odds—things of that nature.
You hate it. You hate what we’ve become, and yet you have the gall
to come in here and lecture me? About my patience? About my priorities?
I was raised on championship basketball. The Spurs Way.
Duncan, Parker, Ginobili. That’s my team. That’s what I’m all about—
and all I’m asking for is to look out on the court and see a team that I recognize!
MR. PINK
A team you recognize? A TEAM YOU RECOGNIZE??
How do you think you got that precious team in the first place?
You think Tim Duncan materialized out of thin air?
You think a basketball fairy came down with a magic wand
and blessed your special head with the world’s most perfect little basketball team?
Grow up!
I was there. I was in the trenches, tweaking Robinson’s back in ‘96.
I was there when his pride tried to push him back in the mix,
and we had to orchestrate a foot fracture to keep him sidelined for good.
Mr. Teal rises in frustration and paces toward the lamp. He seethes—he knows Mr. Pink is right, but he hates it.
Mr. Pink continues to sullenly drink.
MR. TEAL
(quietly)
It’s just… I thought we were done with all this.
We sold guys we liked. We systematically dismantled everything down to the ground—
and it worked. It freakin’ worked.
We got the ultimate prize. The best one we could possibly get.
MR. PINK
That’s right.
MR. TEAL
We should be set!
Why are we still doing this? Why are we still chasing some pipe dream?
It feels greedy. It feels wrong. It feels… desperate.
MR. PINK
Because we weren’t ready.
Mr. Teal slowly lowers himself back into his seat.
Mr. Pink continues.
MR. PINK
We weren’t ready. Victor isn’t enough. Castle isn’t enough.
They were never going to be enough. Not in this league. Not anymore.
You can’t just get a guy and draft well around him. Bring in a veteran or two.
That’s not how it works.
You need a guy, and then you need the next guy. And the next.
You have to keep taking shots.
You can’t sit around hoping that someone might find a jump shot down the road,
or that you’re going to stumble into the next Eastern European superstar in the second round.
This team. These guys.
They weren’t going to build themselves out of this mess.
MR. TEAL
The Thunder did! They built it from the ground up!
MR. PINK
(suddenly standing, spilling his drink, yelling)
THE THUNDER STOLE A GENERATIONAL SUPERSTAR FROM A FAILED STATE FRANCHISE
SO DESPERATE FOR THE SLIGHTEST WHIFF OF SUCCESS
THEY COULDN’T SEE SIX INCHES IN FRONT OF THEIR FACE.
The room goes quiet.
Both men stare at each other.
The faint sound of liquor slowly draining out of the bottle is the only noise.
They sit back down at the table, straightening up.
MR. PINK
I don’t want to hear about the Thunder.
Presti did what he does—what we taught him to do, by the way.
He hoarded picks, he tricked the Clippers into gifting him a star, and he drafted a tall kid.
He has the world convinced it was all part of some master plan—
but I’ll tell you what it was.
It was luck, dressed up as analytics. It was good PR.
Sure, they did good. They did it “right.”
But don’t sit here and act like they cracked some code.
You know what they did?
They waited.
They were boring.
And the league let them be boring because no one cared what was going on in Oklahoma City.
MR. TEAL
It might not even work though. After all this.
All the pain. All the injuries. All the boring nights and terrible losses.
We’re throwing this season down the drain… and for what?
MR. PINK
For a chance.
That’s all it’s ever for, kid.
A chance that it might work out.
A chance to recapture some of that magic you’ve been chasing.
This is the way.
It’s the only way.
A sharp knock at the door.
Three quick raps. Then silence.
Mr. Teal and Mr. Pink glance at each other, instantly alert.
The door creaks open.
A THIRD MAN (MR. ORANGE) steps inside. Calm. Collected. Like he’s been listening the whole time.
He carries a notebook and a large satchel of folders nearly overflowing with paperwork filled with notes in a tight handwriting. He closes the door behind him. Doesn’t say a word.
MR. ORANGE
(calmly, with a small grin)
You boys still crying, or can we get to work?
FADE OUT.
By Charlie Thaddeus, via Pounding The Rock