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Goodwin:?

Doc Rivers:?

Paul Pierce:?

When the Boston Celtics saw Ron Artest standing beside Goodwin, the entire team was stunned.

Who was Ron Artest?

He was one of the best one-on-one defenders in the league, and the opponent who gave stars like Kobe Bryant, McGrady, and Iverson the most trouble. He was fiercely competitive, with outstanding strength, speed, and stealing ability, as well as top-notch defensive skills. He relished shutting down the opposing team's leading scorer, and he was no slouch on offense, either.

So far this season, his 2.08 steals per game ranked third in the league. He had held opponents to under 8.1 points per game, making him one of the leading contenders for Defensive Player of the Year. On top of that, he was putting up an impressive 18.3 points, 5.3 rebounds, and 3.7 assists per game.

The Indiana Pacers' first-place standing in the Eastern Conference this season was due in no small part to Ron Artest.

And yet they'd assigned this kind of player to guard a rookie. Did that make any sense?

The Indiana Pacers' head coach thought it made perfect sense.

In the Pacers' coach's eyes, Goodwin was the only variable in this game. As long as they dealt with that one variable, victory was all but guaranteed.

So the Pacers' coach had wasted no time sending out the best defender on his roster—Ron Artest.

Go on, Artest. Teach this "rookie" a lesson.

Goodwin was momentarily stunned, but quickly snapped out of it. He wasn't the least bit afraid—in fact, he was even more excited.

Didn't this prove that his skills had earned recognition?

Fired up, Goodwin ran toward the corner, and Ron Artest hurried after him.

Artest caught up in no time, then slammed into Goodwin without a word.

Holy shit!

The sudden force nearly sent Goodwin sprawling, but he managed to steady himself just in time.

"Rookie, you're weak," Artest teased.

Artest had thought Goodwin was going to be tough, but he'd nearly taken him out in half a possession.

Now Artest regretted being assigned to guard Goodwin. This was boring. He'd rather be guarding Paul Pierce.

Artest loved the feeling of muscle crashing into muscle.

"Yeah," Goodwin replied earnestly.

Artest: "..." It felt like punching a cushion—no impact at all.

But even if Goodwin answered so earnestly, Artest wasn't going to go easy on him. He launched into a second assault.

With a bang,

he rammed into Goodwin like a mini tank. Even though Goodwin was prepared, he still stumbled back more than a step before absorbing the impact.

FUCK, I can't keep going head-to-head with him. A few more hits like that and I'll fall apart.

Goodwin reached the corner and hurriedly called for a screen.

Goodwin: Help me, Blount!

Mark Blount: I'm coming.

Mark Blount sprinted out of the paint toward the corner. A moment later, he arrived and lowered his hands in front of himself, setting up a wall for Goodwin.

A screen?

Artest's lips curled slightly. He moved quickly around Mark Blount's screen and charged at Goodwin.

Just as Goodwin thought he'd shaken Artest with the screen, Artest chased him down from behind.

Mike James hadn't noticed Artest charging in right away. By the time he did, it was too late—the pass was already on its way.

Smack! Artest came up from behind, knocked Goodwin aside, and stuck out his left hand to deflect the pass.

Holy shit!

Goodwin was hurting from Artest's collision, but he still reached for the ball in time. Don't go!

Goodwin's middle fingertip just grazed the ball, changing its direction. It struck Artest's foot and flew out of bounds.

Possession still belonged to the Boston Celtics.

Artest was a little stunned. He hadn't expected that outcome. He'd thought he was about to get a steal and take it all the way, but the play had been broken up.

Artest couldn't help but think more highly of Goodwin. This rookie was interesting. Even after getting knocked aside, he still hadn't given up on chasing the ball.

"Sorry, that one's on me." Goodwin hurried over to Mike James.

Mike James patted Goodwin on the shoulder. "It's fine. You did well just now, but be careful around Ron. He's a tough defender."

Goodwin nodded, then glanced back at Artest. He really was a tough defender.

Even Paul Pierce had been held to just four makes on thirteen shots, a mere 30.7 percent.

The game resumed, and the Boston Celtics inbounded the ball again. It went to Mike James, who dribbled up to the top of the arc.

Goodwin once again tried to shake Artest with a screen, but Artest quickly caught up. Goodwin couldn't shake him, and there wasn't even enough room to get him the ball.

Just then, Paul Pierce came over from the other side and called for the ball.

Mike James immediately passed it to Paul Pierce.

To be honest, Paul Pierce was furious after being guarded by Artest, and now he had the perfect chance to let it out.

After receiving the ball, Paul Pierce held it in his right hand and drove his left shoulder into Reggie Miller. Faced with the young, powerful Pierce, Reggie Miller could only retreat while trying to hold his ground.

After driving two steps, Paul Pierce pulled up sharply, dribbled behind his back, and switched the ball from his right hand to his left. He held it in his left hand and made a shooting motion.

"Not a chance!" Reggie Miller sprang off both feet and lunged at Paul Pierce.

But the next second, he realized he'd fallen for it.

Paul Pierce hadn't jumped. It was a fake, and Reggie Miller went flying past him.

But Paul Pierce wasn't done. As Reggie Miller came down, Pierce jumped and leaned his whole body into him.

FUCK, he's going for the and-one. In midair, Reggie Miller immediately understood what Paul Pierce was trying to do, but there was nothing he could do about it. All he could do was watch Pierce crash into him.

"Beep, beep!"

The moment he heard the referee's whistle, Paul Pierce tossed the ball from his hands.

It sailed over Reggie Miller's head and toward the basket.

Clang! He'd put a little too little force on it, and the ball hit the front rim.

"Fuck!" Paul Pierce couldn't help cursing. It hadn't gone in.

Though the shot missed, he still earned two free throws.

Paul Pierce stepped to the line and took the ball from the referee. He aimed and shot.

Swish. The first free throw was good.

Swish. The second was good, too.

He made both free throws, scoring two points and putting his team ahead.

62–61

In an instant, the TD Garden crowd erupted in its familiar cheers.

"Let's go, Boston Celtics!" "Let's go, Boston Celtics!" "Let's go, Boston Celtics!" ...

On the sidelines, Doc Rivers looked at Goodwin, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. Goodwin's presence on the court might free up Paul Pierce.

From then on, Paul Pierce was completely unleashed, driving inside and shooting from outside, scoring again and again.

He scored 14 points in the quarter, helping the team stay neck and neck with the Indiana Pacers.

At the end of the third quarter, the score was tied at 78–78. Both teams were back on equal footing.