"Beep, beep." At the sound of the referee's whistle, the game between the Boston Celtics and the Sacramento Kings officially began.
"Clang!" "Clang!" "Clang!"... Neither team had found its rhythm early on, and their first five shots all clanged off the rim.
Swish.
Peja Stojaković ran without the ball, moving to the three-point line on the left wing. The ball arrived as he did, Mike Bibby passing it over immediately.
Peja caught the ball, jumped, hung in the air, and shot.
The motion was seamless, his release quick and clean.
Three-pointer.
0:3
At last, the deadlock was broken. The Sacramento Kings led by three.
After Peja's three-pointer went in, the Sacramento Kings found their rhythm and began scoring repeatedly.
Paul Pierce scored four straight points during that stretch, but he still couldn't stop the lead from growing.
Half a quarter had passed. The score was 6:14, and the Boston Celtics trailed the Sacramento Kings by eight.
"Timeout!" Doc Rivers called a timeout and used the break to make some adjustments.
"Goodwin, get ready to go in." Doc Rivers decisively sent in Goodwin, now the Boston Celtics' sixth man.
"Yes, sir."
Goodwin sprang out of his chair, quickly took off his jacket, and got ready to check in.
"Goodwin!" "Goodwin!" "Goodwin!"... When the female fans in the arena saw that Goodwin was finally going in, they went wild, shouting his name.
The Boston Celtics players: They were used to it!
The Sacramento Kings players: They were not!
The Kings players on the court all stared at Goodwin as if their eyes could kill. He would have met God a dozen times over, if looks could do it.
"Rookie, I'm going to shut you down." Peja Stojaković hated "pretty boys" like Goodwin more than anything.
"Oh!" Goodwin replied, unfazed.
Before the game, Goodwin had looked into Peja Stojaković. He was certainly a good offensive player, one of the best shooters in the league. He had an excellent sense of when to shoot and superb shooting technique. His form wasn't textbook, but his release was quick, his accuracy high, and his range extensive. He was also good at cutting and finding open space. His height gave him a clear advantage at small forward.
But he wasn't very good in one-on-one situations, and his ability to create offense with the ball was limited. His ball-handling and drives were both below average, and his back-to-the-basket game was practically nonexistent.
On defense, his strength and footwork were decent, at least enough to hold his own. But his attitude was too passive and soft, and he lacked mental toughness. His career average of fewer than 0.2 blocks per game said it all.
This season, he was averaging 24.2 points, 6.3 rebounds, 2.1 assists, and 0.2 blocks per game, with a 48.8% field-goal percentage and a 43.3% three-point percentage.
Seeing Goodwin's unbothered expression only added fuel to the fire. Peja Stojaković had already been annoyed, and now he was even more so.
Goodwin watched the expression on Peja Stojaković's face change, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.
Jump out, then jump back in. Come on, hit me, dummy!
Goodwin nearly said it out loud, but fortunately held back.
Keep a low profile, keep a low profile!
The Boston Celtics inbounded from the backcourt, passing the ball to Mike James, who quickly dribbled it over half court.
As soon as Mike James crossed the line, Goodwin, in the left corner, started moving, sprinting along the baseline toward the right corner.
Peja Stojaković followed him closely, spreading his arms to stop a sudden pass from getting through.
Squeak, squeak, squeak!
When Goodwin reached the paint, he suddenly came to a sharp stop and turned back.
You're not getting rid of me in this lifetime.
Peja Stojaković reacted at once, braking hard and chasing after Goodwin.
The next moment, a figure appeared between them.
Thump! Peja Stojaković couldn't avoid him in time and crashed straight into him.
"Fuck!" Peja Stojaković couldn't help cursing.
He hadn't noticed Mark Blount coming over at all.
He could only watch as Goodwin used the screen to get open on the perimeter, caught Mike James's pass, jumped, hung in the air, and shot a three.
The ball seemed to have a GPS, dropping neatly through the hoop.
Three-pointer.
9:14. The lead instantly shrank to five.
The entire TD Garden erupted, especially the female fans who had come to cheer Goodwin on. Their shrieks rang out nonstop.
After scoring, Goodwin looked at Peja Stojaković as he ran over. "You said you'd shut me down. Why'd you let me score? Your defense is awful. You might as well get off the court." His taunting was off the charts.
After saying that, Goodwin turned and ran, not giving Peja Stojaković a chance to reply.
WTF!
Peja Stojaković hurried after him, unleashing a barrage of trash talk.
Goodwin let it go in one ear and out the other.
He had Paul Pierce to thank for that "painstaking effort." During team practice, Goodwin often matched up against Paul Pierce, who took every opportunity to lay into him.
Paul Pierce was one of the league's biggest trash-talkers, after all.
So Goodwin had gotten used to it.
After a long tirade, Peja Stojaković realized he hadn't even scratched his opponent's health bar. His confidence took a direct hit, and his anger kept mounting.
After glancing at Mike Bibby, Peja Stojaković set off toward the paint.
Goodwin stayed close behind him, without making any unnecessary moves.
Suddenly, Peja Stojaković came to a sharp stop and turned back. The corner of Goodwin's mouth lifted slightly. You think you can get me back? Dream on.
Goodwin braked hard and chased after him, too.
The next moment, Peja Stojaković's left hand reached Goodwin's waist and shoved hard.
Caught completely off guard, Goodwin lost his balance.
Thump! He crashed hard into the floor.
Damn! That hurt.
"Beep, beep." The referee had caught Peja Stojaković's move and immediately called an offensive foul on him.
Peja Stojaković ran back on defense, looking deeply dissatisfied.
With help from his teammates, Goodwin got back to his feet.
"You okay, Goodwin?" Paul Pierce asked with concern.
"I'm fine, senior Paul," Goodwin replied.
"Get used to it, Goodwin. This is NBA basketball. Sometimes the referee won't catch this kind of contact, and you'll be the one who pays for it," Vin Baker reminded him.
Goodwin nodded.
Then he made up his mind: he would have to learn a few dirty tricks from Paul Pierce.
Having a sword in your hand and choosing not to use it was completely different from having no sword at all.
Damn it, if the referee hadn't caught that, I'd be the one who got hurt. You're dead, Peja Stojaković. Just wait—I'm going to shoot you into the ground.
Goodwin glared at Peja Stojaković's retreating figure and thought angrily to himself.
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