The next morning, the press conference hall of the FleetCenter Arena was packed with people.
Boston sports reporters didn't even have time to finish their donuts before filling up the front row seats half an hour early.
The television cameras were lined up in the last row, all the red recording lights at the top lit up, and all the long lenses were locked on the empty leather high-backed chair in the center of the stage.
Directly behind the chair was a dark green backdrop. In the center of the backdrop was the shamrock symbol, a tradition dating back to the time of Auerbach the Cardinal.
This was by no means a routine press conference; at least in the eyes of the discerning and critical Boston media, it was a metaphor for the Celtics officially entering a new era.
Even the Boston Globe, known for its objectivity, has already drafted a full-page headline for tomorrow's sports section in its layout system: " The Pope Enters the City."
Rick Pitino was no ordinary interim head coach; he entered the city with an unparalleled reputation that had swept across the entire American college basketball world, and absolute power personally handed to him by owner Chris Paul Gaston —power that allowed him to roam freely in management.
Lin Qi arrived early in the corridor outside the press conference hall.
A steady clatter of leather shoes echoed from the end of the corridor as Pitino strode in, flanked by four burly assistant coaches and two public relations directors.
"Lin." Pitino extended his right hand when he was still two steps away from Lin Qi, exuding the arrogance of a head coach from a prestigious university.
Lin Qi reached out and gave him a brief handshake, their fingertips touching briefly before withdrawing.
"There's a big commotion outside today, it'll be quite a spectacle." Pitino glanced at the heavy double doors of the press conference hall, his tone carrying an air of superior confidence.
" The Boston media has been waiting too long; they need a new story, a compelling one."
Pitino straightened his cuffs and nodded reservedly. "Then let's not keep them waiting any longer, let's go inside."
"Squeak--"
The heavy solid wood doors of the press conference hall were pushed open from both sides by public relations personnel.
In an instant, a deluge of incandescent lightning exploded wildly throughout the hall.
The moment Pitino stepped into the press conference hall, the previously noisy venue fell into an eerie silence for a second, before erupting into an uncontrollable commotion.
Boss Chris Paul Gaston, unable to contain himself any longer, took his seat first on the far right. Lin Qi sat expressionlessly to the boss's left, while Rick Pitino sat in the very center, the prime spot closest to the microphone.
This seating arrangement was requested to be adjusted by the public relations department by Lin Qi twenty minutes ago.
The media had long been accustomed to Lin Qi controlling everything for the past few years, but today, he deliberately put himself in the shadows at the edge of the spotlight.
Finally, the Q&A session began. The first Sports Illustrated reporter to receive the microphone immediately turned his attention to Lin Qi, who was sitting in the shadows.
"President Lin Qi, you've been deeply involved in all aspects of Celtics basketball for the past few seasons. Now that Coach Rick has joined, will you still be intervening in the team's daily rotations and specific tactics in the upcoming season?"
The previously somewhat agitated press conference room instantly became so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Lin Qi slowly pulled the microphone closer, calmly uttering two words: "No."
Clean and efficient, without any unnecessary delays.
Lin Qi continued into the microphone in that calm, almost emotionless tone, "My job is to build the roster, handle contract matters, and oversee the club's future assets. Coach Rick will be fully responsible for the team's daily training, tactical planning, in-game rotations, and locker room regulations."
"From today onwards, all decisions on the field will be made by the head coach. As the general manager, I will lead the entire management team to unconditionally and fully cooperate with Coach Rick in all his work."
This statement gave Pitino, the new head coach, a tremendous amount of face. Sitting in the center, Pitino looked pleased and slightly turned his head to nod to Lin Qi. The reporters below the stage were visibly excited, the scratching of pens on paper never ceasing.
Three days after the press conference, Lin Qi sat in the large leather chair in the general manager's office, holding a cup of black coffee that had long since gone cold, and was flipping through the morning news summary that his secretary had brought in.
Unsurprisingly, the entire American sports media has been completely engulfed in a collective euphoria surrounding Rick Pitino.
Boston's columnists used almost every word in their dictionaries that represented sublimity and greatness to lavish their loyalty on the new head coach.
The Boston Herald wrote on its front page, " The Boston Celtics have welcomed their messiah of a new era. Rick Pitino will cleanse this powerhouse of years of frivolity with the strictest discipline in college basketball."
An ESPN senior commentator even publicly declared on television, "We are witnessing history. Pitino will not only become another ' The Cardinal ' Auerbach in Boston, but with this modern, luxurious lineup of Gary Payton, Garnett, and Mutombo, he will build a Boston Celtics super dynasty that is even more glorious and dominant than the Cardinal era!"
Lin Qi looked at these sycophantic manuscripts and let out a cold, mocking laugh.
He slammed the newspaper onto the mahogany table, leaned back in his chair, and couldn't help but secretly criticize his usually arrogant media colleagues.
"This is really interesting," Lin Qi muttered to himself, a slight smirk playing on his lips.
Back when he was in charge, picking up geniuses against all odds on draft night and using clever asset leverage to bring one strong player after another to Boston at the trade deadline, the local media's articles were always laced with sarcasm, filled with the arrogance and cynicism of old-school Celtics fans.
And what happened this time? He simply relinquished power at the press conference, and these guys practically wanted to erect a solid gold crystal statue of Pitino at the stadium entrance.
Complete groveling and shameless flattery.
"What's wrong?" Lin Qi chuckled self-deprecatingly, a hint of American dark humor flashing in his eyes. "Could it be... because my skin isn't fair enough?"
Despite his complaints, Lin Qi's gaze returned to the thin starting lineup on the table.
The louder the media hype, the calmer he became. As the creator of this team, he knew all too well how many potentially fatal fuses lay hidden beneath this "paper five" roster that was enough to keep the Eastern Conference up at night.
Every hidden danger this team has faced so far is a ticking time bomb that reporters, immersed in the illusion of a "super dynasty," either completely blind to or deliberately ignored.
Lin Qi would bet that before ten games are played in the regular season, Gary Payton's foul mouth will give Pitino a thorough dressing down.
What made Lin Qi's temples throb even more was that Kevin Garnett had not yet renewed his contract.
His new contract will be worth hundreds of millions of dollars, which is inevitable. In this so-called "contract year," Garnett will definitely try his best to perform on the court in order to prove his worth to the entire league.
This roster is so talented that it has an extremely high margin for error; they will win all the way through the regular season, racking up 55 or even 60 wins.
Winning will cover up all the dirty work.
When the team's record soared, Pitino felt he was right, and Gary Payton felt that the wins were all thanks to him carrying the team on the field.
"More glorious than the era of the Cardinal?"
Lin Qi picked up the now-cold black coffee and took a small sip; the bitter taste exploded on his tongue.
He turned his head to look at the gloomy Boston sky outside the window and gave a cold laugh.
The Pope had already made a grand entrance into the city amidst a chorus of empty praises.
All Lin Qi could do was sit in the shadows and observe coldly.