Adelman looked at the room full of serious-looking young people and said calmly, " Michael Jordan was human too. Humans lose."
Pressing the remote control instantly switched the footage on the recorder.
Instead of Jordan's despairing fadeaway jumpers, the screen displayed a montage of the Chicago Bulls ' humiliating losses over the past two seasons. The New York Knicks relentlessly attacked Jordan's lower body with physical play, while the Orlando Magic used double-team defense to tear apart the Chicago Bulls ' defense.
"No one in this league can shut down Jordan one-on-one, and he can still make shots even when double-teamed." Adelman wrote a line heavily on the whiteboard.
[Let those who aren't good at scoring score points].
"Our goal for tomorrow night isn't to prevent him from scoring, but to make him bleed profusely every time he scores. Then, we'll force the ball into other players' hands, forcing them to shoot open shots."
Adelman turned around and started calling out names, " Eddie, you start and guard him. Don't try to steal the ball. Use your body to block him and make him spend two more seconds on every dribble. Robert, you're in charge of the first double team. Use your wingspan to block his vision and force him to pass the ball earlier!"
Horry grinned; he was all too familiar with this... it was purely for disgusting people.
" Dikembe, Kevin, Ben, and PJ, who's going to be suspended for the next game."
Mentioning P.J. Brown's name immediately sombered the atmosphere in the video room. Brown's tackle in Game 7 of the previous round resulted in an additional suspension, meaning that in Eastern Conference Finals, Boston lost its toughest interior presence, and they were heading to the United Center in Chicago, the Chicago Bulls ' home court.
"With one less inside player, our help defense in the paint absolutely cannot be slow." Adelman drew three dead ends on the whiteboard. " Luc Longley shooting mid-range, Dennis Rodman handling the ball at the free-throw line, Harper hesitating on the perimeter—we can accept that. But there are three things, whoever leaves them open is doomed: We can't let Kerr shoot corner threes, we can't let Kukoč easily facilitate second passes, and we can't let Pippen drive through the middle!"
Garnett stared intently at the whiteboard. "Who's going to guard Pippen?"
"You," Adelman looked at him, his eyes unusually serious, "Use your height to disrupt his pass, use your speed to take his first step. You don't need to defend every possession, but I want him to see your long arms every time he looks up!"
We can only borrow half of the methods shown in these videos.
Lin Qi had been standing in the back row with his hands in his trouser pockets, suddenly spoke. He walked to the whiteboard, picked up Mark, and wrote down each word carefully at the top.
[Consumption, Choice].
" The Knicks are too slow, Magic rely on O'Neal. If we copy them, we'll die. The only way we can beat the Chicago Bulls is to turn the game into a death match."
Lin Qi coldly observed the group of young talents. "First, take turns guarding Jordan. Eddie ( Jones ) will guard Robert ( Horry ), then Robert will guard him, and Bruce ( Bowen ) will go for the ball. Give him a different defensive focus and intensity. I want that Lao Liumang to have to readjust to the defender's body every possession, and I absolutely cannot let him find a comfortable rhythm!"
"Second, the defense should focus on the big men and leave the smaller ones alone. Luc Longley and Harper shoot long two-pointers as they please, but as soon as the Chicago Bulls take a shot, everyone must immediately turn around and use their chests and butts to push the Chicago Bulls ' big men out of the paint."
Garnett interjected in a hoarse voice, "What if... I mean, what if Jordan, with three players on his back, still managed to make those damn shots?"
The video room was deathly silent.
"Then get back on defense immediately." Lin Qi's eyes were devoid of any extra emotion. "The scariest thing about Chicago is that it makes you feel mentally powerless. You defend well, the ball goes in; you box out your position, Dennis Rodman can still tip the rebound out. All these unfortunate things will happen tomorrow night."
Lin Qi drew a deep line of blood at the bottom of the whiteboard. "The reigning champions' dynasty can't be defeated with a single punch. We have to bleed them dry, one cut at a time."
The door to the recording studio opened, and a staff member poked his head in, his expression tense. "Mr. Lin, the pre-game interviews from Chicago are out."
The TV screen was switched to ESPN's breaking news.
In the locker room of the United Center, Michael Jordan sat in front of his locker, casually tying his shoelaces. Reporters surrounded him, not daring to put their microphones too close.
" Michael, what do you think of the Boston Celtics who just eliminated the Heat? Will they give the Chicago Bulls any real trouble?"
Jordan faced the camera, chewing gum, his eyes even showing a hint of boredom.
"They're energetic. But the playoffs are a man's game. I just hope that when they go back to Boston to buy their vacation tickets, they can get discounted tickets for a few days later."
Lin Qi walked over and, with a snap, decisively turned off the TV.
The following evening, in the underground passage of the United Center in Chicago.
As soon as the bus came to a stop, a deafening roar erupted outside the windows. Countless Chicago fans wearing red and white number 23 jerseys frantically pounded on the bus, and the security barriers rattled loudly.
The bus doors opened, and the stark white lights from the overhead tunnel shone down. In the distance, the cheers of 20,000 people in the stadium crashed over them like waves.
To make matters worse, there's an empty spot on their bench tonight, as P.J. Brown is sitting in his hotel room due to his suspension from the last round.
The whistle blew, and Game 1 of the Eastern Conference Finals officially began.
Phil Jackson sat with his legs crossed in the home team's bench. On the court, Jordan, Pippen, Dennis Rodman, Harper, Luc Longley — the Chicago Bulls dynasty's ultimate five—lined up in a row, their near-dominant presence causing the United Center to erupt in cheers.
In the opening possession, as soon as Jordan called for the ball in the low post, Eddie Jones blocked him with his chest. Horry then swung his long arms from the side, completely shutting down Jordan's signature spin move.
Jordan frowned, and the ball was forced to be passed to Luc Longley at the top of the arc. With a wide-open shot, Luc Longley raised his hand to shoot, "bang," the basketball bounced off the rim, and Mutombo easily grabbed the rebound.
Boston's tactics worked, but the game had only just begun.
In the second quarter, the Chicago Bulls changed their lineup immediately, with Jordan taking a backseat as bait, and Pippen becoming the sharp knife that pierced the heart of the Celtics. Whenever Horry tried to delay Jordan, Pippen on the weak side would dash straight into the paint like a black lightning bolt.
Steal, accelerate, long-arm pass!
Steve Kerr received the ball in the corner, and with a swift motion, a three-pointer pierced the net! Kukoč then facilitated a second pass from the outside and scored again!
The point difference widened instantly.
In the eighth minute of the third quarter, the conflict on the court escalated completely. Jordan, with two players blocking his face, missed a fadeaway shot, and Garnett had already secured the best rebounding position in the paint.
But the instant their bodies made contact, Dennis Rodman slithered over like a venomous snake, his elbow concealed and viciously slamming into Garnett's abdomen. Garnett groaned, losing his balance.
Dennis Rodman used this dirty trick to leap into the air, tapping the ball three times with his fingertips in mid-air, forcefully knocking it over Garnett's head. Jordan received the ball on the perimeter, took a second shot, and swished it through the net!
After scoring, Dennis Rodman stuck his tongue out at Garnett, his eyes filled with a madman-like provocation.
In the fourth quarter, Sam Cassell, despite his injured ribs, scored 6 consecutive points with a back-to-the-basket move, and Finley followed with a fast break dunk, narrowing the gap to just 4 points.
But true dynasty teams don't give you a comeback story. In the final two minutes, Jordan took over the game again. He was almost out of balance at the baseline, and with Mutombo and Garnett's long arms blocking his shot, he sealed the victory with a near-physics-defying drift layup.
The Chicago Bulls thrashed Boston's comeback attempt 92-84 at home.
Boston's defensive strategy actually worked tonight. Michael Jordan was constantly bombarded by Jones and Horry, missing only 10 of his 26 shots.
However, even though Jordan missed his shot, the Chicago Bulls didn't die.
Scottie Pippen scored 29 points, 8 rebounds, 7 assists, and 4 steals, repeatedly breaking through Boston's transition defense with fast breaks; Dennis Rodman grabbed 15 rebounds in the paint, including 6 offensive rebounds, rendering the Celtics' hard-fought defensive plays futile.
Boston exhausted their players and managed to dethrone Jordan.
However, the Chicago Bulls ' other two All-Stars sealed Boston's fate tonight.
The away team's locker room was deathly silent.
Horry slumped in his chair, covering his face tightly with a towel. The entire game had been a zero-sum game between Jordan and Pippen, almost draining him of his energy. Adelman rubbed his temples, staring at the statistics table, his face extremely grim.
Lin Qi strode in, casually grabbed the technical statistics sheet, and glanced at Pippen's column, a slight smile appearing on his lips.
"Lin, how can you still laugh?" Adelman looked up, his voice hoarse.
"Why can't I laugh? We limited Jordan to only 10 baskets tonight." Lin Qi slammed the report on the table.
" P.J. Brown will be back next game. Kevin, start at small forward."
Adelman took a deep breath and wrote the lineup for the second game heavily on the whiteboard.
Point Guard: Sam Cassell.
Shooting Guard: Eddie Jones.
Small Forward: Kevin Garnett.
Power Forward: P.J. Brown.
Center: Dikembe Mutombo.
The Chicago Bulls took a 1-0 lead in the series.
Boston has only 48 hours to adjust.