Davis called for the ball in the high post, back to the basket, and went to work on Cauley-Stein. With a powerful spin, he drove into the paint and drew a foul from Sabonis on the finish.
This season, the Pelicans had taken a clear step forward—both in record and performance—and Davis' continued growth was a big reason why.
LeBron might've been the face of the team, but when it came to high-stakes moments? Everyone knew who the real killer was.
Anthony Davis.
He calmly knocked down both free throws.
On the other end, Han Sen tried to attack off the dribble but immediately drew a swarm of help defenders.
The Pelicans were already one of the best defensive teams in the league last season—and with Avery Bradley joining the roster this year, they'd become even more suffocating.
Han kept his composure and kicked it out.
Mitchell caught it, but the Pelicans rotated perfectly. He quickly swung it again—to Tatum.
And guarding Tatum?
LeBron.
As Tatum caught the ball, LeBron didn't even close out hard.
No one knew him better than LeBron himself. This was his "mini-me," his rational, team-first disciple. LeBron fully expected Tatum to stop, survey, and make the "right" play.
But what happened next?
Caught everyone off guard.
The moment the ball hit his hands—Tatum rose up.
No hesitation. No extra dribbles.
Just elevation and release.
Swish.
Nothing but net.
The arena erupted.
Tatum looked down at his hand, almost surprised.
For a split second, his mind had gone blank. His body had moved on its own. The only thing echoing in his head were Han's words from earlier—and the image of Han's relentless drive.
In that moment, he understood something Han had tried to tell him:
Conviction doesn't make you more talented.
But it feels like it does.
---
Back on the other end, Davis posted up again—but this time, Han rotated down into the paint, cutting off his drive.
Forced to pick up his dribble, Davis scanned for options.
The Kings' help defense didn't move quite as crisply as the Pelicans'. Out on the perimeter, LeBron stood wide open.
Davis saw him and fired the pass.
But the ball never got there.
Tatum had baited the rotation, only to whip around and jump the passing lane. He picked it off clean.
And right in front of LeBron's stunned face, Tatum turned and flung the ball right over his head, starting the break.
Mitchell was already gone—sprinting past the three-point line like a missile.
The crowd was already on their feet before he even took off.
Mitchell caught it in stride and exploded into a gliding tomahawk slam that shook the rim.
He wasn't tall, but his wingspan and vertical made him a walking highlight. It wasn't a surprise—he'd already been invited to the dunk contest as a rookie the year before.
As he jogged back on defense, Mitchell spread his arms with that trademark shrug.
It infuriated LeBron.
Han doing that? Fine. Whatever.
But Mitchell?
Who the hell did he think he was?
LeBron turned back to glare at Tatum—this was his fault.
But what he saw?
Was Tatum looking not at him—but at Han.
And Han?
Han was giving Mitchell a big thumbs-up.
A callback to the old "Three Shrugs" era.
Now it was the "Three Stares."
LeBron had had enough.
He planted himself in the post, demanding the ball against Tatum again.
This time, he wasn't being subtle.
He threw an elbow. Lowered his shoulder.
Fine.
If Tatum wasn't gonna show him respect?
Then it was time he taught his little fan a lesson.
But what LeBron didn't expect—again—was that Tatum had ramped up his intensity even further.
Tatum was a Black player, but unlike the usual hyper-aggressive archetype, he had always played like a straight-A student.
Calm. Measured. Textbook.
Not tonight.
Tonight, he was relentless.
Physical.
Borderline mean.
Maybe even he didn't realize it—but when Han didn't acknowledge that earlier steal, something inside him had flipped.
Now?
He was in full-on "prove it" mode.
Every possession was a test.
And he was going to pass it.
LeBron tried to spin off him, then switched to facing up.
On the drive, he lowered his shoulder and bulldozed Tatum to the floor.
Whistle.
Offensive foul.
LeBron was livid.
He turned to the ref, arms wide, pleading his case.
The ref just shook his head.
Times had changed.
This wasn't the Nike League anymore.
It was UA's turf now.
Tatum, a rising UA face, wasn't going to get the short end of the whistle.
Sitting on the floor, Tatum saw the call and pumped his fist.
But that wasn't the real reward.
The real reward came when Han walked over and pulled him up by the arm.
That—more than anything—was the acknowledgment he'd been chasing.
Han attacked again, drawing help from LeBron in the paint.
Without missing a beat, he kicked it out.
Tatum caught it.
Holiday closed in.
No panic.
Tatum faked a pass to Mitchell, sold it perfectly, then dribbled into the elbow.
Pull-up.
Swish.
That was Tatum in a nutshell.
No killer move.
No unstoppable weapon.
But he could do everything.
And tonight?
He was doing it all.
There's a fine line between a player who can do everything and one who can do nothing.
That line?
Was called the stage—and the conviction to own it.
The broadcast caught it all: Han and Tatum slapping hands on the way back. LeBron, fuming in the background.
Gone was the smugness from tipoff.
Gone was the casual confidence.
He looked rattled.
Defensive matchups were always about matchups—and LeBron usually guarded the weakest offensive threat. On this Kings squad, with two legit bigs, that meant Tatum.
And he knew Tatum.
Knew him better than anyone.
So why—why—was this kid lighting him up?
Five straight points. On him.
Of all nights to act out?
Why tonight?
LeBron couldn't take it anymore.
Next possession, he called up Davis for the pick.
This time, he got downhill. Exploded past Cauley-Stein. Hammered it home.
Finally.
Then he landed, turned, and roared at Tatum.
He knew Tatum didn't have that cold-blooded mindset.
He was soft.
Or at least, that's what LeBron believed.
And for a second—just a second—it looked like he was right.
Tatum froze.
But then Han appeared at his side.
"That," Han said calmly, "is the real LeBron."
He didn't mean it as a compliment.
LeBron was all about convenience. Brotherhood when it suited him. Ghost when it didn't.
Just ask Melo. Ask Westbrook. They all chased the dream, and got left behind.
In that moment?
The illusion broke.
Tatum's childhood idol shattered.
And he didn't feel sad.
He felt relieved.
---
The Kings were on offense, and as soon as Han Sen caught the ball, the Pelicans sent a double-team.
Even though Tatum had played well early on, the Pelicans still saw Han as the biggest threat. In their eyes, Tatum was just capitalizing on the opportunities Han created.
And truthfully? That was a fair assessment.
But Han's mentality had shifted.
Originally, he'd intended to do what he'd done all season—break the game open with his own scoring.
But Tatum's performance tonight had earned his trust.
So when the trap came, Han didn't hesitate. He swung the ball to Tatum.
The Pelicans rotated quickly—Tatum didn't get a clean look.
Sabonis came up for a high screen, but Anthony Davis easily slipped around it.
Han paused for a second, surprised.
Not by the Pelicans' defense—but because they had switched matchups.
LeBron, who was originally guarding Tatum, had now switched onto Stan!
Classic LeBron. Smarter than anyone on the court—when he wasn't faking injuries, he was dodging tough matchups with surgical precision.
But what came next shocked everyone.
Instead of pulling back, Tatum suddenly changed direction and exploded left, slicing right between Davis and Bradley!
No one saw it coming.
Not the crowd. Not the bench. Not even Han.
Tatum's conviction was on full display.
By the time the Pelicans realized what was happening, it was too late—Tatum had already broken into the paint.
Just as he was gearing up to leap, LeBron slid off Stan and rotated to the rim.
Confident that his earlier roar had rattled Tatum, LeBron was ready to teach his little protégé a lesson.
He timed his jump perfectly, aiming to swat the shot.
But once again, LeBron misread the situation.
Tatum wasn't going for a layup.
The moment he saw LeBron, he gave up that idea.
Han sensed it too and locked in on Tatum's body language.
Then—Tatum exploded.
He shot off the floor like a spring uncoiled, rising fast and high, the ball stretching to its peak.
LeBron jumped at the same time.
It was a midair duel.
But youth had its advantages.
Tatum got higher.
Just high enough to hold the ball half a hand above LeBron's outstretched fingers.
BOOM!
Tatum dunked on LeBron. Straight up.
LeBron's hand smacked into Tatum's shoulder, but it didn't matter.
The dunk was complete.
The arena exploded.
Even Han stood stunned for a second—he hadn't expected Tatum to be this bold.
But that wasn't the end of it.
As he landed, Tatum spun around and screamed straight at LeBron.
He gave it back—every bit of that earlier roar.
No.
He did more.
He bumped LeBron with his chest.
Right then, Han saw it.
Tatum had finally let go of the awkward, lingering feelings from his childhood idol.
That dunk was his farewell.
The idol worship was over.
And LeBron?
He looked rattled.
No anger. Just stunned silence as he casually received the inbounds from Davis like a robot.
Gentry immediately called timeout—he knew something was off.
As the teams walked to their benches, Han approached Tatum and gently ruffled his hair.
"Nice work," he said.
It was the first time since joining the Kings that Han had given Tatum a direct, public affirmation.
Tatum nodded hard—clearly hyped.
But it wasn't just about Han's praise.
It was about realizing that conviction actually worked.
It made him better.
It made him dangerous.
When play resumed, the Pelicans adjusted.
They locked in on Tatum.
The dunk hadn't just showcased his athleticism—it showed his fire.
They had no choice but to respect it.
But doubling Tatum?
That meant giving Han more space.
And the moment Han got that space, he reminded everyone of what he'd shown from the opening tip:
He had come to win.
So what if the Kings weren't as talented?
Just like in Memphis. Just like in Cleveland.
If you gave Han a little help—just enough—he became unstoppable.
By the final buzzer, Han had dropped 48 points, leading the Kings to a 108–98 win over the Pelicans.
In a season where 120 and 130-point games were common, the Pelicans had held the Kings under 110—and still lost.
Their defense was elite.
But Han was unguardable.
Davis finished with a monster 31 points, 16 rebounds.
He was, without a doubt, the best big man in the league.
LeBron? A near triple-double: 20 points, 10 rebounds, 9 assists.
But it wasn't enough.
---
Postgame Press Conference
Tatum joined Han at the podium again.
He had gone 10-of-15 for 26 points, 7 rebounds, and 3 assists—his best game since torching the Warriors.
"I just wanted to win," he said. "I kept telling myself that over and over during the game."
A reporter pressed him.
"Are you worried your performance might dip again?"
Last time he went off, people thought he'd turned a corner—only for him to disappear in the games that followed.
Tatum didn't flinch.
"No. I've found the way to win."
As he said it, he turned to look at Han.
The media turned too.
Han smiled and nodded.
"We're about to see the real Jayson Tatum," he said.
---
🎙️Inside the NBA – Postgame Reaction:
Ernie Johnson: "Big-time Christmas game in Sacramento tonight—Han Sen drops 48, Kings get the win, but fellas… we all saw it. Jason Tatum put LeBron James on a poster."
Kenny Smith: "Ooooh, man! That wasn't just a dunk. That was a funeral service! Tatum caught him clean. Right over the top. If you grew up watching Bron, that was one of those, 'Hey... I love you, but I'm here now' moments."
Shaquille O'Neal: "You know what that was? That was a grown man dunk. That boy said, 'I ain't your little nephew no more.' That's the moment right there where Tatum stopped being a sidekick."
Charles Barkley: "Well, about damn time! Look, I've been tough on Tatum 'cause the kid's got all the talent, but he's been playin' like he's still tryna please somebody. Tonight? He showed he don't care no more. He came at LeBron like he owed him money."
Ernie: "Chuck, let me ask you this—do you think Han Sen had something to do with it?"
Charles: "Oh 100%. Han got in his head—in a good way. Han plays with that edge, that conviction. And tonight, Tatum finally caught some of that fire. You could see it in his eyes after that dunk. He wasn't playin' scared anymore."
Shaq: "And you notice who gave him the ball on that play? Han. That's leadership. That's what real stars do. You elevate your teammates. Now the whole league gotta take a second look at Tatum after that."
Kenny: "But let's not forget the big picture. Han still had 48 points. That dude is a killer. No matter how much help he gets, when the moment comes, he closes. That's the difference."
Ernie: "And LeBron? He looked a little… rattled."
Charles: "A little? That man looked like he just saw a ghost. He got dunked on, stared down, and then clamped up by the same kid he used to mentor. That's gotta hurt."
Shaq: "He gonna see that replay in his nightmares."
Kenny: "And in HD. Over and over again."
(All laugh.)
Ernie (smiling): "Kings take it 108-98. Tatum shows up, Han dominates, and LeBron leaves with another L. Merry Christmas, everybody."