"Ahhhhh! It's Goodwin, Goodwin!" A blonde woman in the stands named Melaina Weaver cheered excitedly.
Melaina Weaver had once been a student at the University of Kansas. When she learned that the University of Kansas had reached the NCAA Finals again, she went to the game with a friend to support her alma mater. That was how she became a Goodwin fan.
From then on, she followed news about Goodwin while working.
The moment she heard that Goodwin had been drafted by the Celtics, she jumped up and down in the street with excitement. After that, she never missed a Boston Celtics game, going to the arena each time to support Goodwin. Sadly, Goodwin never got a single second of playing time, and she went home disappointed every time.
Even so, she kept going. She could never forget those final few minutes of the NCAA tournament, when Goodwin had appeared like an angel and saved the University of Kansas. In that instant, Goodwin's figure had been etched deep into Melaina Weaver's memory.
Her quiet persistence would finally bear fruit.
"Miss, who is he? Why are you so excited?" asked an older fan beside Melaina Weaver, curious.
Melaina Weaver replied excitedly, "I'm his biggest fan. His name is Goodwin, and he's really amazing."
Goodwin? Really amazing?
The older fan looked back at Goodwin, wearing jersey number 20 on the court, with a doubtful expression.
"Beep, beep." As the whistle sounded, the second quarter began. The Boston Celtics inbounded from the backcourt, passing the ball to Ricky Davis, who dribbled across half court at an unhurried pace.
As soon as he crossed half court, Ricky Davis passed the ball to Vin Baker on one side.
The moment Vin Baker got the ball, the Indiana Pacers players visibly focused.
Vin Baker was the only Boston Celtics starter who hadn't been taken out, so the Indiana Pacers figured that the Celtics' offense would surely run through him.
But the Indiana Pacers were in for a surprise.
Chris Mihm started moving out from the paint.
"Watch out, pick-and-roll!" Jeff Foster thought Chris Mihm was going to set a screen for Vin Baker and hurriedly called out a warning.
The next second, Jeff Foster froze in confusion. Why was he running to the corner?
Chris Mihm had headed to the corner to set a screen for Goodwin.
As soon as Chris Mihm arrived, Goodwin cut out.
Thump!
Chris Mihm set a solid screen, freeing Goodwin from his defender. Goodwin ran to the three-point line on the left wing, about 60 degrees from the basket.
Vin Baker flicked his wrist and passed the ball to Goodwin.
Goodwin caught the ball and didn't hesitate for a second. He jumped, hung in the air, and shot.
The motion was seamless, the release swift and precise.
With the whole arena watching, the ball sailed toward the hoop.
Swish! It dropped cleanly through the net.
Three-pointer.
33–25
The lead suddenly stretched to eight.
"Nice shot, Goodwin!" Vin Baker shouted to him.
Goodwin didn't answer. He gave Vin Baker a thumbs-up, then hurried back on defense.
Vin Baker couldn't help shaking his head. The kid seemed like a completely different person once he stepped onto the court. He was cocky all the time off the court, but as quiet as a baby during games.
On the sidelines, Doc Rivers nodded. The kid really was like a microwave—he could start scoring the moment he came in. What a steal.
At the same time, Doc Rivers couldn't help cursing John Carroll in his mind, that idiot. He had a player with real talent and still left him glued to the bench. If he didn't get fired, who would?
"Achoo—" Back in New Jersey, John Carroll sneezed. He picked up a tissue from the desk and looked at the television, which was airing the 2003–04 regular-season game between the Boston Celtics and the Indiana Pacers.
He still believed the team's poor record wasn't his fault and that he shouldn't have been fired. So he wanted to watch the Boston Celtics fall into the abyss with his own eyes!
But he never would have expected the Boston Celtics to play so well in the first quarter.
Still, he didn't think much of it. During his two months as coach, the team had started plenty of games like that.
But when the second quarter began, Doc Rivers's substitutions left him stunned. He had actually put in Goodwin, who looked good but was useless. What shocked him even more was that Doc Rivers had drawn up a play for Goodwin.
Fine, he'd drawn up a play—but then Goodwin had actually made the shot.
It had to be luck.
Back at TD Garden:
Clang! The Indiana Pacers missed their shot.
Chris Mihm grabbed the rebound.
The moment Goodwin saw the ball hit the rim, he was already sprinting downcourt.
His defender was half a beat late, then hurried after him.
Chris Mihm glanced downcourt and saw Goodwin already past the half-court line. Without a second thought, he launched the ball toward him.
The ball flew in Goodwin's direction.
Goodwin watched its path as he ran.
The ball came closer and closer. Goodwin raised his hand and caught it cleanly.
As soon as he caught the ball, the defender closed the gap again, leaving only half a step between them.
He could catch up. He could catch up.
Goodwin dribbled toward the Indiana Pacers' end, driving into their territory.
Before long, Goodwin reached the three-point line. He slammed on the brakes and struck a shooting pose.
The Indiana Pacers defender reacted instantly, braking hard too as he lunged toward Goodwin.
???
The Indiana Pacers defender was suspended in midair, his face full of question marks. A fake!
Goodwin faked the shot and sent the defender flying. Then he lined up the basket, jumped, hung in the air, and launched a three.
The fans in the arena: ???
A three-pointer on a fast break? Was this for real?
The ball traced a graceful arc through the air.
Swish! It dropped cleanly through the net.
Goodwin had made another three.
In less than a minute on the court, Goodwin had scored six straight points, helping the team push its lead into double digits.
36–25!
"Ahhhhh!" "Ahhhhh!" "Ahhhhh!" Whether a cat was black or white, a cat that caught mice was a good cat. When the fans saw the ball drop through the net, they instantly threw their arms up and cheered.
The Boston Celtics bench went wild too. Paul Pierce was whipping a towel overhead, as if he wanted everyone to know: Look, this is my fellow University of Kansas alum—Goodwin!
Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap!
Doc Rivers clapped furiously on the sidelines.
Beautiful! Great work, Goodwin.
Unlike the ecstatic Boston Celtics bench, the Indiana Pacers bench was stunned. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. The gap hadn't narrowed—it had stretched to double digits.
The Indiana Pacers head coach wore a baffled expression. Who was this guy?
But the Indiana Pacers head coach reacted quickly and immediately called a timeout.
Hearing the referee's whistle, Goodwin stopped and stood in place, raising both hands as he shouted, "Ahhhhh!" He let out all the frustration, resentment, and every other negative emotion that had built up over the past two months.
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