In late April 1997, the first round of the NBA playoffs began.
The Boston FleetCenter was packed to capacity, with the home fans' cheers deafening.
In the first round of the Eastern Conference playoffs, the Boston Celtics will host the Washington Bullets.
Game 1 of the series has officially begun!
The atmosphere of the playoffs is completely different from that of the regular season, with the most obvious change being the referee's officiating standards. From the very first game, the defensive confrontations on both sides were allowed to be pushed to the brink of physical combat. As long as the action didn't result in bloodshed, it was difficult for the referee to blow his whistle.
Celtics starting point guard Sam Cassell got into trouble right from the start.
As Cassell dribbled past half-court, he immediately felt Rod Strickland's suffocating defensive pressure. This street wolf from the Bronx, New York, had droopy eyelids and a cold, sleepy look on his face, but his body clung to Cassell like a sticky piece of taffy.
Sam Cassell's signature move in the regular season is his back-to-the-basket game, which creates a significant mismatch advantage for guards. He uses his large back to push the opposing point guard all the way to the free-throw line before turning around and shooting a mid-range jumper. This move has always been effective, but tonight he ran into a brick wall.
Although Rod Strickland was never selected to the All-Defensive Team in his career, in order to make those unreasonable finishes in the paint where giants abound, he developed monstrous core strength and terrifying lower body for his position.
When Sam Cassell bent over again to try and push in, he was horrified to find that the indifferent New York behind him was as steady as a fire hydrant welded to the floor. Sam Cassell pushed twice more, but the other man not only didn't budge, but even took the initiative.
Strickland's tactics were ruthless, yet incredibly clever. Utilizing a blind spot in the referee's view, his knee subtly pressed against Sam Cassell's supporting leg, while his elbow concealed itself in Sam Cassell's lower back. In a regular season game, such a sneaky move would have resulted in a foul on the defending player.
But tonight, the referee stood with his hands on his hips, watching coldly, his whistle remaining silent as if he were dead.
This silent indulgence instantly ignited Sam Cassell's rage. The Houston native, a reckless player, tried to regain his composure with a powerful stride, but Strickland practically brought him to a stop with his chest. In the instant he lost possession, the impatient Sam Cassell instinctively reached out and grabbed Strickland, pulling him down solidly.
Beep--!
The offense and defense switched, and it was the Bullets's turn to attack.
Strickland dribbled slowly across half-court, his face still bearing that sleepy, indifferent expression. Sam Cassell gritted his teeth and pressed against him, his anger burning as he decided to retaliate in kind, his defensive move so forceful it almost hugged Strickland completely.
However, Strickland is least afraid of hand-to-hand combat.
Facing extremely aggressive defense, Strickland suddenly took a large step to the left, Magic slapping the basketball forward to his left with his right hand. Sam Cassell's tense nerves reacted instantly, instinctively turning to block. But in that instant of shifting his weight, Strickland displayed terrifying body control, his outstretched left hand swiftly snatching the ball back in mid-air!
"Oh no!" Sam Cassell was shocked. His defensive center of gravity had been completely shaken off, and his legs were even twisted into a pretzel due to the force exerted in the opposite direction.
Strickland gave him no time to adjust. After completing that stunning " Shamgod " crossover, he followed up with a powerful stride, his center of gravity so low it was almost touching the floor, like a sharp scalpel, instantly tearing the Boston Celtics ' defense to shreds!
Lin Qi, sitting in the VIP box, suddenly narrowed his eyes.
That incredibly flamboyant dribbling rhythm, the uncanny sense of oneness between man and ball when changing direction, and that ruthless way of toying with defenders like wooden stakes... In that instant, the image of the top ball-handling master of later generations, Kyrie Irving, uncontrollably appeared in Lin Qi's mind.
Almost simultaneously, Lin Qi's dormant modern memories were abruptly awakened.
He suddenly remembered. Rod Strickland, the New York street legend, was none other than Kyrie Irving's the Godfather. The legendary ball-handling skills and finishing touches of the later-known "Kaleidoscope Uncle Drew" largely originated from this cold-faced man in front of him.
As his opponent swept past him and plunged into the empty penalty area, Sam Cassell, completely shaken off his feet, felt his mind go blank. In an instant, extreme humiliation and impatience transformed into murderous intent. He had no time to brake. In the split second before being overtaken, he steeled himself and, using the momentum of his forward run, swung a brutal, wide-back slam, pulling the already accelerating Strickland diagonally down from mid-air!
Beep--!
Two minutes and 40 seconds into the game, Sam Cassell had already accumulated two fouls.
Strickland got up from the floor without even glancing at Sam Cassell. As he slowly retreated to the backcourt, he dusted off his jersey, his long-faced New York swagger more infuriating than any vicious trash talk.
Less than three minutes into the game, two fouls! The Celtics had no choice but to bench Sam Cassell and bring in Mark Price early. The Boston Celtics' meticulously prepared half-court offense, developed over a week, was crippled from the start.
However, the more pressing crisis lies in the matchup in the paint.
Chris Webber didn't stay in the high post tonight like he does in the regular season to make long passes and facilitate plays. He wanted to use his purest low-post skills to teach 20-year-old Kevin Garnett a lesson.
On the left elbow, Webber positioned himself to receive the ball. Garnett spread his long arms, attempting to use his mobility to get in front of him, but Webber's 245-pound frame blocked the space. The moment he received the ball, Webber lowered his waist and his massive body slammed backward.
Bang!
With a dull thud of muscles colliding, Garnett, only 20 years old and weighing around 220 pounds, felt a tightness in his chest and his body swayed involuntarily. Garnett gritted his teeth.
But Webber's reading of the defensive center of gravity was too sophisticated. Instead of opting for a fadeaway jumper, he followed Garnett's forward leaning defensive momentum and smoothly executed an extremely fluid body roll. Webber's broad shoulders perfectly positioned themselves between the two, using his body to isolate Garnett in mid-air, and with his right hand, he violently slammed the basketball into the basket!
After landing, Webber didn't pound his chest or roar in anger, nor did he even glance at Garnett. He slowly returned to defense while chewing gum, smiling and high-fiving Juwan Howard as he ran over, as if the goal was no different from any other routine training session.
This inherent elegance and indifference made Garnett, who was used to finding passion on the field through roaring and confrontation, extremely uncomfortable.
In the following three minutes, Webber repeatedly outmaneuvered Garnett in the same low post position, using his skillful back-to-the-basket power and convincing head fakes.
The first time, a powerful hook shot landed;
The second time, the moment he bumped into Garnett, it resulted in Garnett reaching out to commit a foul.
In the first 6 minutes, Webber scored 8 points and grabbed 3 rebounds, while Garnett had 0 points, 1 foul, and was outplayed 3 times on defense.
A series of defensive failures, an absolute disadvantage in strength, and the feeling of being completely ignored by his opponent psychologically drove the young high school student into a frenzy. His breathing became heavy, and his green jersey was soaked with sweat.
In the ensuing scramble for an offensive rebound, Garnett was called for pushing an opponent after the whistle blew, his actions deemed too aggressive. The humiliation and anger that had been building up for half a quarter spiraled out of control in that instant. He spun around abruptly and slammed the ball against the backboard's protective padding, yelling at the referee.
Beep--!
Technical foul!
With a score of 16-6, the Washington Bullets took control on the road, quickly establishing a double-digit lead.
This visually striking start made the air in the entire arena tense. Lin Qi, watching the scoreboard from the stands, even laughed in exasperation. From the start until now, the referee's whistle had been so off-target, it sounded like a game being played in Washington, D.C.., making him wonder if these guys in striped shirts had taken a bribe and placed a huge bet on him in Nevada.
Hearing the riotous roars erupting from the stands, Lin Qi leaned back in his chair, a bizarre thought swirling in his mind: Did these referees really not intend to leave Boston alive?