From the game-winning shot against the Lakers on Christmas Eve to the subsequent 142-point blowout of the Vancouver Grizzlies, the entire Boston media went into a frenzy in just half a month.
Major sports newspapers not only touted Steve Nash's 17 points and 12 assists as phenomenal, but radio experts also began hyping it up. What truly ignited this frenzy was the NBA's official release of the second round of voting results for the 1997 Cleveland All-Star Game — Kevin Garnett, the second-year player who arrived in Boston amidst countless doubts, had surged ahead despite the onslaught of monstrous superstars in the Eastern Conference frontcourt, climbing directly to seventh place!
Everyone knows that there are only two starting forward positions in the All-Star game. Detroit's Grant Hill is the darling of the nation, while Chicago's Scottie Pippen is riding high on the momentum of last season's 72-win season and championship victory. These two positions are practically locked in.
But for Kevin Garnett, reaching seventh place in the Eastern Conference frontcourt in the second round means he has already stepped into the All-Star game.
According to the rules, besides the two starters, the Eastern Conference coaching staff usually selects two to three backup forwards. Seventh place means that Garnett is only separated from Washington's " Bullets Twins" Chris Webber and Juwan Howard, Charlotte's muscle beast Anthony Mason, and established veterans like Vin Baker and Chris Laettner. In the eyes of old-school coaches, seniority is certainly important, but Boston's current impressive record is Garnett's strongest asset.
"Do you realize what this means?" Boston radio host cried out excitedly on air. "If this momentum continues, Kevin Garnett will become one of the youngest All-Stars in NBA history! Lin Qi is building Boston's next dynasty!"
The entire city was going crazy for this twenty-year-old, but head coach Rick Adelman remained expressionless.
Inside the Celtics' training facility, veteran Mark Pumis ripped the thick ice pack off his knee, looked at Nash who was grinning foolishly while clutching a newspaper, and coldly poured a bucket of cold water on him:
"Don't look too long, Steve. Today they might praise you to the skies for a 17-point, 12-assist performance, but tomorrow, if you miss two games in a row, the same reporters will use the most vicious language to denigrate you as a worthless outcast. I've been in this business for ten years, and the media's mouths are more unpredictable than Wall Street stocks."
Price gave a self-deprecating smirk, patted his aching legs, and his eyes held the sober wisdom of someone who'd been there. "Those Grizzlies' cowards, who don't even know if they'll be cut tomorrow, really don't have the time to study you. When the next team that's done their homework comes knocking, that'll be when you truly see what the NBA is all about."
Nash's smile froze instantly. Sam Cassell was sitting not far away wiping his sweat, chuckled.
Two days later, at the Philadelphia CoreStates Center, the Celtics will visit the Philadelphia 76ers.
The current Philadelphia team is abysmal, relying entirely on Allen Iverson and Jerry Stackhouse's relentless one-on-one play. Yet, this terrible team has proven Price right.
In the second quarter, Sam Cassell went to the bench for a rest, and Nash came in to replace him.
He had just received the serve at the baseline when a violent black whirlwind swept right in front of him.
Number 3, Allen Iverson.
"They just played one good game. And against a terrible team like the Grizzlies, and that's enough to make the Boston media go crazy?"
Iverson stared at Nash with his wolf-like eyes, tugged at his jersey collar, and revealed an extremely arrogant sneer.
"Rookie, Vancouver don't play defense? I'm not buying it. Today I'll show you what the real NBA is all about."
Too fast. Iverson's lateral quickness and timing of his cuts were an unreasonable display of natural talent.
Nash tried to use his body to shield the ball as he advanced, but Iverson's long, black arm flashed like a ghost, and with a snap, he precisely stole the Admiral from Nash's dribbling point!
"Watch the ball!" Stackhouse roared as he swept the loose ball away and unleashed a powerful dunk that hung over the rim, sending the entire Philadelphia arena into a frenzy.
Before Nash could even catch his breath, Philadelphia coach John Davis signaled for a strong-side double-team from the sidelines. As soon as Nash crossed half-court, Iverson and the wing forwards immediately formed a tight defense. Nash was trapped in the corner of the sideline, unable to move, his mind went blank, and in a panic, he could only lob the ball high.
Stackhouse intercepted the weak pass in mid-air, and the counter-attack succeeded once again.
"Beep--!" Adelman called for a pause, his face ashen.
The atmosphere on the substitutes' bench was suffocatingly oppressive.
Nash wasn't the only one unlucky; Garnett also ran into a real tough opponent in the paint— Derrick Coleman, the 1990 number one draft pick, a notoriously tough and hard-working veteran. This guy hated Garnett's incessantly talkative, long-armed Spider-Man type.
Coleman pressed a concealed large elbow against Garnett's lower back, spewing vicious trash talk. "All-Star? With your frail build? You can't even get a comfortable position to receive the ball from me, and you dare call yourself an All-Star?"
This statement precisely struck at the pent-up enthusiasm Garnett had been fueled by the city's praise over the past two weeks. The young and impetuous Garnett completely lost his temper, and he began to frantically attack the woodwork, trying to respond to Coleman's humiliation with goal after goal.
A forced shot, misses; a fadeaway jumper after a contest, bounces off the rim again.
At halftime, the Celtics were already trailing by a full nine points on the scoreboard.
"Give me the ball in the second half, I'm going to beat that fatso to a pulp!" Garnett gritted his teeth in the locker room, veins bulging on his forehead.
Adelman didn't even lift his tactical board. He simply took off his glasses, rubbed his temples, and then calmly glanced at the two young men who had both run into obstacles.
" Kevin, a few All-Star votes make you think you can solve everything with post-up moves like a heavyweight center? High post playmaking, off-ball screens, stretching out for threes, fast breaks, using your face-up drives and speed to punish that slow old guy... these are all things you excel at. And what are you doing now? Wrestling with Derrick Coleman in the low post like two bulls? You're using your weaknesses to challenge his strengths; he's exploiting you, setting traps for you, and you've been playing along."
Adelman put his glasses back on, stood up, and spoke in a tone that was still gentle but undeniably authoritative.
"If any of you want to continue this battle of wills tonight, I'll keep you on the bench for the second half so you can see what five-man basketball really is."
At the start of the fourth quarter, Adelman waved his hand and said, " Steve, go for it. Play smart, don't go head-to-head with them."
Nash returned to the court, Iverson once again lurked close behind. But this time, the panic in Nash's eyes was gone, unlike in the first half.
Faced with Iverson's stealing pressure, Nash didn't force a dribble and turn. Instead, he used P.J. Brown's high screen and, just before Iverson and the wing double-team were about to close in, delivered a low pocket pass.
The basketball slipped precisely between Iverson's thighs and was passed to Brown, who cut to the basket and easily slammed it home with an open dunk!
In the next possession, Philadelphia's defense swarmed in aggressively again. Nash didn't stop the ball on the sideline; instead, he made a wide cross-court pass across the weak side, bracing for contact. The basketball arced sharply through the air, finding Chris Mullin in the corner.
He jumped, released the ball, and it flew in a perfect arc, swish, and the three-pointer pierced the heart!
Five straight points! Boston's engine finally used surgical passes to slice through Philadelphia's suffocating defense. Price on the sidelines finally nodded slightly. "This rookie's brain works pretty fast."
While Nash managed to stabilize the offense with his overall vision, he still couldn't stop Iverson on defense, who was eager to prove himself.
In the final moments of the game, Iverson unleashed an inhuman series of crossovers over Nash. The crossover was so fast that even the television replay looked blurry, completely throwing Nash off balance. Iverson leaped high and banked a layup, sealing the victory in an instant.
The Celtics suffered a heartbreaking 91-96 defeat on the road.
Nash's stats tonight were abysmal: 18 minutes, 4 points, 4 assists, and 4 turnovers. While Garnett regained his rhythm in the second half with high-post playmaking and fast breaks, his dismal performance in the first half under Coleman's pressure reminded the young player that he is far from possessing the absolute dominance commensurate with his All-Star votes.
At the post-game press conference, countless cameras and microphones were immediately pointed at Nash: " Steve, from the 17 points and 12 rebounds in the blowout against the Grizzlies to tonight's 4 turnovers, do you really think you're prepared to face the targeted defense of this league?"
Nash remained silent for a full three seconds.
He then raised his head, the earlier arrogance fueled by the media had completely vanished from his eyes. He didn't avoid the reporters' gaze, his tone as calm as if he were dissecting himself.
"No, I was obviously not ready. I played terribly tonight. My stagnation and mistakes on the field cost the team this away win. It's all my fault."
At this point, Nash paused slightly, a fleeting glint of coldness and ruthlessness flashing in his eyes. He looked directly at the reporter who had asked the question and added, word by word.
"But I promise, this will be the worst game of my life. The next time they try to swarm me like this, my passes will find every open teammate. We'll see."
Not far away, Garnett was also surrounded by reporters. " Kevin, Coleman really contained you tonight. Everyone's saying you've hit the rookie wall. Will that affect your All-Star votes?"
Garnett sneered, "A wall? I don't care what kind of wall it is, I'll just crash into it! All-Star game, I'm going!"
The next day, the Boston media's attitude changed faster than turning the pages of a book.
A shocking experience reveals the true nature of a Canada newbie.
Coleman gives a lesson to the third overall pick; is KG hitting the rookie wall?
When Boston's hype dies down: How far are we from being a true powerhouse?
Lin Qi sat in the general manager's office and casually threw the few pessimistic newspapers into the trash can.
The media knows absolutely nothing about basketball. Their favorite trope is to elevate a young person to a pedestal, only to then personally push them down and smash them to pieces.
Lin Qi stood up and walked towards the training hall. As soon as he opened the door, the smell of sweat hit him.
Nash was practicing his quick one-handed pass under pressure at one end of the court.
On the other end, Garnett was frantically practicing his footwork after receiving the ball at the high post, while Adelman stood by, patiently correcting his power generation posture over and over again.
Lin Qi leaned against the doorframe, silently watching all of this.
Lin Qi turned and left, the dull thud of the basketball hitting the floor echoing behind him once more, again and again.
Monotonous and dull, yet as steady as a rock.