May 1997, Miami Arena.
The decisive Game 7 of the playoffs.
The air conditioning in the arena seemed to be malfunctioning; the heatwave, mixed with the deafening boos from the 20,000 Miami fans, was almost enough to knock you over.
The atmosphere reached its peak of hostility as the Boston Celtics walked out of the visiting tunnel. This was no ordinary playoff matchup; the two teams had already forged a fierce rivalry in the first six games.
Miami Heat president and head coach Pat Riley stood in front of the bench, arms crossed, expressionless. But when he saw the Celtics ' starting lineup on the big screen tonight, his brow furrowed slightly.
Point Guard: Sam Cassell.
Shooting Guard: Eddie Jones.
Small Forward: Ben Wallace.
Power Forward: P.J. Brown.
Center: Dikembe Mutombo.
Kevin Garnett didn't start, and neither did Robert Horry.
NBC's live commentator shouted it out:
" Adelman changed his lineup for Game 7! He removed Garnett and fielded a three-man frontcourt of Brown, Wallace, and Mutombo! The Celtics are going to completely shut down the paint!"
The camera cuts to the Celtics' bench.
Garnett sat in the front row, wrapped in a towel, his face grim, but he didn't lash out at the coaching staff. Fifteen minutes before the game, team president Lin Qi had already explained the reasons very clearly.
Just now in the away team's locker room, when head coach Adelman wrote down the starting lineup on the tactical board, everyone was taken aback. Ben Wallace, the usually quiet second-round rookie who got his place by doing the dirty work, was going to start in place of Garnett in the Game 7.
Adelman patted Wallace on the shoulder at that moment.
"Ben, you defended Mourning very well in the previous games. Tonight, you don't need to score. Just use all your strength to push Mourning out of the paint whenever he receives the ball in the low post. Can you do that?"
Ben Wallace tugged at his jersey and mumbled, "Leave it to me."
Before the game, Lin Qi called P.J. Brown and Ben Wallace aside and took them to the corner of the hallway.
Lin Qi looked at Wallace and cut to the chase. " The Heat will definitely make a move tonight."
P.J. Brown stopped putting on his wristband.
Lin Qi continued, " The Heat have no room for error. If they play normally, it'll be hard for them to win this series. So their goal tonight is to provoke us and mess up the game."
Ben Wallace listened with a serious expression.
Wallace nodded.
Lin Qi then turned to P.J. Brown: "If they cross the line, you have to step up and show them the Celtics aren't pushovers. But listen carefully... absolutely no physical contact, absolutely no chasing after them, and absolutely no letting anyone from the bench onto the court. The Heat are trying to drag us down with the chaos; we can't fall for it."
P.J. Brown was silent for a moment.
Just then, a rough voice came from outside the door.
What if someone has to be sent off tonight?
Lin Qi turned his head.
Veteran Sam Mitchell stood in the doorway with a towel draped over his shoulder. He had clearly overheard the conversation.
P.J. Brown frowned. " Sam, don't get involved."
Mitchell waved his hand and looked directly at Lin Qi: "I know the league rules. A substitute rushing onto the court and getting into a fight results in an automatic suspension. I also know I wasn't going to get much playing time in this series anyway."
He said calmly, "If something really goes wrong on the field tonight, someone has to step up from the bench and stop the other team, and that person can only be me."
Ben Wallace couldn't help but say, "Are you crazy?"
"I'm perfectly clear-headed." Mitchell smiled. " Kevin can't be suspended, Robert can't be suspended, you guys need to save your energy for the next round. I'm different, I didn't get much playing time anyway."
For a moment, no one spoke in the corridor.
Lin Qi looked at him, and after a few seconds spoke, "Don't go and become Pat Riley's cannon fodder."
Mitchell nodded. "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. I know when to go up, and I know what to do up there."
The referee blew the whistle, and Game 7 officially began.
In the opening minutes, the Miami Heat's defensive actions were incredibly aggressive. They weren't playing defense; they were using their bodies to provoke, trying to immediately start a fight.
Mourning's first call for the ball in the low post resulted in a hard collision with Ben Wallace. Meanwhile Miami Heat's Brian Grant, while boxing out for the ball, repeatedly used his forearm to forcefully bump P.J. Brown's ribs.
Brown didn't retaliate; he simply held his ground firmly, using his body to force Grant out of the way.
In the sixth minute of the first quarter, the Celtics found an opportunity.
The Miami Heat's Hardaway missed a gamble on a steal on the perimeter, and Sam Cassell saw an open shot, dribbling directly into the paint. Just as he jumped to shoot, Heat wing Keith Askins came rushing in from the side.
Askins wasn't even aiming for the ball; he shrugged and rammed into Sam Cassell's chest at full speed while he was in mid-air.
"Bang!"
Sam Cassell lost his balance in mid-air and fell sideways, crashing into the group of baseline photographers. Cameras and folding chairs instantly toppled over.
"Beep--!!"
The referee's whistle was extremely piercing.
The boos from the crowd paused for a moment, then erupted completely.
Ben Wallace was the first to rush forward. Askins was still spreading his hands and trying to argue with the referee that he was just doing a normal defensive rotation, but as soon as he turned his head, Wallace was already right in front of him.
"You weren't even going for the ball." Wallace's voice was very low, his fist clenched.
Askins sneered and retorted with his chest, "What? You want to stand up for him?"
Before Wallace could even make a move, P.J. Brown rushed in from the side. Instead of throwing a punch, he grabbed Askins's jersey collar with both hands, and with a burst of strength, flipped Askins over, slamming him heavily onto the floor in front of the scorer's table.
Askins slid more than half a meter across the floor.
This completely ignited the arena. The entire Heat bench stood up and rushed onto the court.
The Celtics' bench couldn't sit still either. Garnett ripped off a towel and was about to rush onto the court, but before his foot even crossed the sideline, a large hand pressed against his chest.
Robert Horry held Garnett firmly, staring into his eyes, and said, "Sit down. If you want to send the Heat to the next round, move forward now."
Garnett stood frozen in place, panting heavily.
Meanwhile, Sam Mitchell had already made his move.
He didn't get into a fight, nor did he confront Heat players. He rushed onto the court from the end of the bench, then spread his arms wide and stood between his own bench and the center of the conflict, like a wall, firmly blocking all the young players behind him.
"Sit back down, all of you!" Mitchell yelled at the top of his lungs. "Anyone who dares to cross this line, I'll punch them first!"
On the field, Ben Wallace tried to charge forward, but Mitchell grabbed Wallace from behind around the waist and dragged him back forcefully. "Ben! That's enough! If you make another move, you'll fall into their trap!"
On the other side, Mutombo also used his long arms to tightly restrain P.J. Brown, constantly trying to dissuade him in Brown's ear.
Referees, stadium security, and assistant coaches from both sides all rushed onto the court.
The chaos lasted for half a minute before the two teams were finally forcibly separated.
Near the baseline, Sam Cassell was helped up by the team doctor. He clutched his chest, his face pale, but the first thing he did after standing up was yell at his own bench, "Sit still! I'm fine!"
Upon hearing the starting point guard speak, the Celtics' young bench players could only grit their teeth and return to their seats. Garnett sat in his chair, his hands gripping the towel until it turned white, staring intently at the center of the conflict.
Lin Qi stood behind the bench, watching coldly. He didn't go to the referee to protest, because he knew that the outcome of this contest now depended entirely on the referee's ruling.
A few minutes later, the three referees finished watching the video replay and went to the scorer's table to announce the ruling.
" Miami Heat, Keith Askins, Flagrant Foul 2, ejected from the game."
The Heat fans in the arena erupted in a deafening chorus of boos.
" Boston Celtics, P.J. Brown, technical foul, ejected."
P.J. Brown nodded, not surprised by the result.
" Sam Mitchell, Boston Celtics reserve, has been ejected from the game for leaving the bench area without permission."
Upon hearing the final ruling, the Celtics fell silent.
Mitchell tugged at his training uniform, didn't argue with the referee, and turned to walk towards the players' tunnel. As he passed Lin Qi, Lin Qi reached out and tugged at him.
Lin Qi looked at him. "You know what the consequences will be."
Mitchell smiled. "I know, you'll be automatically suspended for the next game. But if we lose tonight, there won't be a next game."
Lin Qi paused for half a second, then patted his shoulder. "Go back to the locker room and get an ice pack."
Mitchell was taken aback. "I didn't fight anyone, why would I need to apply something?"
Lin Qi looked at Sam Cassell, who was preparing to shoot a free throw, and said, "I was worried you might dislocate your arm when you were holding Ben."
Mitchell glanced at his wrist, which was red and raw from hugging Wallace earlier, and suddenly laughed.
After saying that, he strode into the players' tunnel.
On the sidelines, Pat Riley's face darkened completely.
He understood. This conflict, which should have destroyed the Celtics, did not achieve the effect he expected.
Askins was ejected. Although the Celtics lost P.J. Brown and reserve Mitchell, Garnett is still there, Horry is still there, Finley is still there, and Eddie Jones is also unharmed. None of the Celtics ' core rotation players were traded away.
Pat Riley wanted chaos that would suspend the opposing team's key players, but Lin Qi, at the cost of two blue-collar workers, kept the crisis firmly within the rules.
Sam Cassell stepped up to the free-throw line.
Amidst deafening boos from the crowd, he dribbled the ball and calmly made both free throws.
As he retreated to defend in the backcourt, Sam Cassell passed Ben Wallace and patted the young man on the chest. "Thanks, bro."
Ben Wallace gritted his teeth and nodded.
Sam Cassell then turned to Garnett on the bench, grinning broadly. "See? They're out of options."
Garnett didn't speak. He slowly removed the towel from his knees and stood up. The anger in his eyes hadn't disappeared, but it had transformed into a calm fighting spirit.
With three minutes and twenty seconds left in the first quarter, head coach Adelman turned around and said, " Kevin, come on."
Garnett ripped off his jacket and strode toward the scorer's table.
The boos echoed through the arena once again, but this time, the Celtics had completely taken control of the situation.
The decisive Game 7 has only just begun.