Early January 1997, FleetCenter Arena, Boston.
Two hours before the game, when the Celtics ' injury list was posted on the wall of the media room, the entire Boston press erupted.
Sam Cassell is out.
Robert Horry is out.
Dikembe Mutombo is out.
All three key players have withdrawn from the game.
In the 1990s Iron League, where the motto was "no minor injury, no withdrawal," this level of rest was simply heretical.
"Coach Rick!" A reporter from the Boston Globe jumped to his feet, shoving his camera and microphone directly in Adelman's face. "Resting three key players at once—that's unprecedented in the entire league. Are you openly disrespecting the Vancouver Grizzlies, or do you think the regular season is completely irrelevant?"
Adelman didn't even look up, speaking slowly and deliberately, "This isn't underestimating the enemy, it's what President Lin Qi requested... it's called... 'load management'."
"Load management? That's absurd! Fans don't pay to see ten million dollars sitting on the bench!" the reporter pressed.
Adelman chuckled and closed his clipboard, "So, not every team has the roster depth of Boston. Tonight, you'll see a different kind of basketball."
These words, as if they had grown wings, were hurled into the away team's locker room within five minutes.
"Bang!"
The Grizzlies ' third overall pick and All-Star prospect, Shareef Abdul- Rahim, kicked a locker hard.
"We don't need to go all out against us?" Rahim's face turned ashen, his eyes bloodshot as he glared at his teammates. "Who do they think they are? When they get on the court, I'm going to devour Kevin Garnett!"
This year's Rookie of the Year frontrunner Rahim, has been itching to challenge Garnett, the league's hottest second-year all-around forward.
Long passes, back runs, and cuts into the air.
As the Celtics ' new starting lineup took to the court, Lin Qi sat calmly in the general manager's seat, a mocking smile playing on his lips.
Point guard Mark Price, shooting guard Eddie Jones, small forward Chris Mullin, power forward Kevin Garnett, and center P.J. Brown.
Without Mutombo's defensive presence and Sam Cassell's physical battles, this lineup still boasts five of the most luxurious shooting and passing options of this era.
"Since Vancouver wants to run," Lin Qi turned to Adelman beside him and chuckled, "Then let them run as much as they want."
In the first possession of the game, Price and P.J. Brown executed a high pick-and-roll. Before the Grizzlies ' interior defense could switch, Price had already flicked the ball precisely to the weak side.
Catch the ball, jump, and hang in the air.
Chris Mullin, known as " God's Left Hand," has a textbook-perfect shooting motion, sinking a three-pointer with a swift and decisive motion!
Looking back, Rahim was indeed giving it his all. He used Garnett's close physicality to force a turnaround and respond with a difficult mid-range jumper. As he settled into position, this well-known "gentleman" of the league finally snapped, yelling at Garnett, "Come on! This is the price you pay for resting! Don't think you're the only one who can play basketball!"
Garnett's eyes lit up immediately. He had been waiting for this moment for too long.
"Oh? God above, look who's talking loudly?" Garnett, chewing gum frantically, strode up to her and unleashed a barrage of words like a machine gun. " Shareef, your defense tonight is as sparse as the stubble on your lip! In a godforsaken place like Vancouver, even homeless people can average 20 points! Your unprotected first-round pick is already our dinner, you know? You're like a dumped, resentful woman..."
Rahim's temples bulged as he tried to block Garnett with his body. However, during a brilliant positioning maneuver, Garnett suddenly fell backward, arms raised, face contorted in exaggerated pain, and hysterically yelled at the referee, "Ref! He pushed me! He even swore at my mother in Vancouver dialect! That's definitely a technical foul!"
Rahim was dumbfounded, and so angry he almost vomited blood on the spot.
The Celtics simply didn't engage in positional warfare with the Grizzlies.
In the fifth minute of the first quarter, veteran Price's knee started to feel tight. Adelman didn't hesitate for a second, waving his hand and saying, " Steve, go for it! Enjoy the game."
With his slightly disheveled long hair, Steve Nash ripped off his training clothes and stepped onto the floor.
The Grizzlies ' guard pressed forward fiercely, attempting to use his almost biting body to force the skinny white rookie to a stop. In the 90s, this kind of physique was the "ATM" most favored by muscular players.
"Newbie, with hair that long, are you planning to crawl on the floor and mop for us later?"
The defender, trash-talking and using almost biting lateral movements, tried to force the rookie to a stop just outside the three-point line. With a thud, their bodies collided, and Nash was knocked back, his body inevitably tilting to the side, losing his balance.
A burst of laughter erupted from the Vancouver bench.
However, the laughter from the entire audience abruptly stopped the next second.
Nash, who was knocked off his balance, didn't even try to regain his footing. Instead, he used the momentum of the collision to lower his center of gravity. In the blink of an eye, just as his body was about to be parallel to the ground, he caught a glimpse of a green figure in the corner of his eye.
Without a second thought, the instinct honed through countless training sessions erupted instantly. Nash flicked his wrist behind his back with a bizarre flick, the basketball grazing the defender's ear tip, piercing through the Grizzlies ' defense like a scalpel!
At the bottom corner, Chris Mullin had already left the defense wide open.
"Brush!"
Another three-pointer!
Mullin walked over to the Grizzlies guard and helped Nash up.
Nash patted his shoes, didn't even look at the horrified defender, and turned to retreat.
The second quarter turned into a nightmare for the Grizzlies.
The Grizzlies ' young players were provoked by the consecutive three-pointers, and they tried to "repay" with irrational one-on-one attacks on every offensive possession. Meanwhile, the Celtics ' ball movement was so fast that it was almost Afterimage to the naked eye.
The ball had just crossed half-court, and the defenders were still getting into position. Nash didn't even look, and a long bounce pass pierced through the gap between the two defenders. Mullin emerged from the left corner, used a screen to receive the ball, and before his body was even properly positioned in the air, the ball was already leaving his fingertips.
"Brush!"
"Brush!"
"Brush!"
The Grizzlies ' head coach was yelling furiously on the sidelines, but his players couldn't even touch the Celtics ' jerseys.
Mullin doesn't need to dribble and drive; he just keeps running, receiving, and shooting. The veteran has found the most comfortable way to play in his life.
At halftime, the score on the big screen was a chilling 72-59.
In the corner of the corridor outside the home team's locker room, Rick Adelman, clutching a newly printed statistics sheet, walked towards Lin Qi, who was leaning against the wall. The usually refined and easy-going coach now had an uncontrollable smile on his face, and his eyes were full of pure excitement.
"Lin, these guys were on fire tonight." Adelman chuckled, pushing up his glasses, his tone as light as a child who had just won a game. "72 points in the first half! We didn't even have a single physical battle; the Vancouver defense was completely dismantled by their passing."
Lin Qi turned his head and looked at the replay of Nash's brilliant behind-the-back pass on the big screen, and couldn't help but laugh, " Rick, watching them play is much more enjoyable than watching those hard-hitting, physical battles."
"Of course, that's what basketball should be like. The chemistry between that Canada rookie ( Nash ) and Chris ( Mullin ) is incredible." Adelman casually folded the stat sheet, stuffed it into his suit pocket, and shrugged easily. "In the second half, I plan to let them play even more aggressively. On offense, we'll continue to push the pace, and on defense, we'll have Garnett and Jones apply more steal pressure on the perimeter, directly dictating the pace of the game."
"I completely agree. Since everyone's having so much fun, let's floor the gas pedal."
Lin Qi chuckled and patted Adelman on the shoulder, his tone relaxed yet confident. "Go for it, Rick. Make sure all 20,000 Boston fans enjoy this spectacular basketball feast in the second half."
In the third quarter, the Grizzlies attempted a desperate gamble, launching a relentless full-court double-team on Nash.
Nash was knocked off his feet in the backcourt.
But he didn't panic; this was the resilience Mark Price had developed through daily physical exertion in training camp. Nash slowed down slightly, and the moment the two defenders leaned forward simultaneously, he slipped through the only gap between them like an eel.
Ahead lies a smooth road.
Nash didn't pass; instead, he stepped to the edge of the three-second zone and launched his signature agile floater.
The basketball arced incredibly high and swished through the net!
In the very next possession, the Grizzlies retreated on defense, wary of his drives. Nash, without warning, pulled up for a three-pointer from half-court, and the net rippled as it landed!
When the defense had to focus its attention on this rookie number 13, " God's Left Hand " began his ultimate killing spree.
A three-pointer from the left 45-degree angle, a mid-range jumper on a back cut, and a fast break three-pointer.
At the end of the third quarter, the Celtics led 108-87. They scored another 36 points in the quarter, effectively ending the game.
In the fourth quarter, the 19,000 Boston fans in attendance had stopped caring about the outcome and began frantically counting down the score. In an era where the average score is less than 100 points per game, they were witnessing a miracle.
With four minutes remaining, Nash anticipated the long rebound's trajectory amidst the crowd and secured it. This was his seventh rebound of the game.
The moment he landed, he didn't hesitate for a moment, delivering a long pass that spanned the entire field.
Michael Finley leaped high in the frontcourt and unleashed a powerful alley-oop dunk that ignited the ceiling in the FleetCenter!
"Beep--!"
The final whistle blows.
142 to 102.
The Boston Celtics scored the highest single-game score in the entire league this season in 48 minutes of regulation time, without going into overtime!
The technical statistics were almost scalding hot when they were delivered to Lin Qi.
Chris Mullin, 36 points, 10-for-15 shooting, 4-for-6 from three-point range, 12-for-12 from the free-throw line.
Steve Nash, 17 points, 12 assists, 7 rebounds, 2 steals.
Kevin Garnett, 21 points and 10 rebounds.
Eddie Jones, 18 points, 3 steals.
Seven players on the team scored in double figures, with a shooting percentage as high as 60%.
At the post-game press conference, Rahim looked grim. Facing reporters' questions, he repeatedly emphasized through gritted teeth, " Kevin Garnett is a great player, but he would be even better if he could keep his mouth shut for five minutes."
Meanwhile, on the other side, Mullin, who had scored 36 points, was soaking his feet in an ice bucket.
The reporter handed him the microphone. " Chris, you scored 142 points without your three core players. What's there to say?"
Mullin wiped his neck with a towel, and unusually, cracked a dry joke, "Nothing. I just got the most comfortable shot I've ever had. In Golden State, I had to yell 'Give me the damn ball' to get open; in Boston, before I even got into position, Steve's ball was already hitting me in the chest. If there's anything I'm not used to... it's that Steve's passes are too fast; sometimes I'm afraid he'll smash the ball into my mouth."
Surrounded by a crowd, Nash's face flushed red. He awkwardly waved his hands at the camera, trying to shift the topic to Garnett: "The main credit goes to Kevin. Tonight on the court... well, he tied up a lot of their energy."
"Of course!" Garnett jumped shirtless in front of the camera, grabbed Nash by the neck, and roared at the camera, "See that? This is Boston! Steve is a fucking genius! Anyone who booes him again, I'll rip their rim off and give it to them as a necklace! Got it?!"
Lin Qi leaned against the shadows in the corridor, watching the replay of 142 minutes on the big screen, and lit a cigarette.
He was in a very good mood.
It wasn't just because of this resounding victory, nor was it just because of Nash and Mullin's outstanding performances.
Rather, it was because, not long ago, he acquired two unprotected future first-round picks from the Vancouver Grizzlies in a blockbuster trade.
Tonight's 48-minute massacre made Lin Qi see the Grizzlies ' true colors. Rahim is indeed talented, and Reeves is also big, but this team lacks discipline, organization, and the environment to cultivate talent into a system.
They don't know how to win.
"Boss, two unprotected first-round picks," the assistant chuckled softly. "Judging by the Grizzlies' performance tonight, they're going to be rotten for at least another five years."
Lin Qi exhaled a puff of smoke, folded the technical statistics sheet, and put it into his trench coat pocket.
The following day, Boston dominated the front pages of sports media across the United States.
142 points! The Celtics ' roster depth overwhelms Vancouver!
Lin Qi let three key players go easy, Boston Celtics racked up a season-high score!
" God's Left Hand Returns, Rookie Nash Shows Superstar Potential!"
The outside world was stunned by the spectacular 142-point performance, while opponents were terrified of Boston's offensive prowess.
But what pleases Lin Qi most is the future shape this system presents. His team can have three starters sitting on the bench drinking Gatorade and chatting, and then switch to a completely different lineup, using a dazzling storm that transcends the times to shatter the old basketball logic.
That's what makes basketball so fascinating.
Lin Qi tugged at his collar and pushed open the office door. Outside, the January winds of Boston blew, but inside came bursts of warm, boisterous laughter from the coaching staff and players celebrating their victory.