Mid-December.
When the team was preparing to fly to Atlanta to play the Hawks, Lin Qi did not travel with the team. Instead, he bought two tickets for himself: the first to Chapel Hill, North Carolina, and the second to Lawrence, Kansas.
Lin Qi has recently developed very mixed feelings about the Celtics.
As the president, he naturally wanted the team to win, as this was a roster he had personally assembled.
However, from a broader business perspective, he doesn't want these people to win too much right now.
If Pitino and Gary Payton resolve their chemistry issues too quickly and achieve too much success, it will not only raise the current owner's expectations to an extreme, but also significantly increase the team's market value, which would be detrimental to his plan to buy the Celtics outright.
First stop, North Carolina's home stadium, Dean Smith Center.
Lin Qi was sitting in the third row courtside. Tonight's game was University of North Carolina vs. Princeton University.
This game was a clash between two extreme team-building philosophies. North Carolina possessed some of the nation's top athletic talents— Vince Carter and Antawn Jamison —while Princeton was a team of ordinary players who relied purely on discipline and high-post half-court offense.
The first ten minutes of the game were so dull it was almost suffocating. Princeton strictly executed off-ball movement, relentlessly squandering their 35-second college shot clock on every possession. This style of play is the "right way" that Pitino used to talk about every day in Boston: treating players as cold, impersonal parts of a tactical board, eliminating star players' isolation plays, and leaving everything to the system.
But in the final two minutes of the first half, North Carolina broke the deadlock with a brutal steal on the wing. The point guard then launched a high, cross-court lob pass. The pass was tactically illogical, but Vince Carter took off from beyond the right three-point line, slamming the ball into the basket with one hand over the Princeton defender's head.
With a deafening roar, the entire stadium was instantly overturned by screams.
Bernie, the Hawks' veteran scout sitting next to Lin Qi, shook his head and whispered to Lin Qi, "See? No matter how perfectly Princeton runs their plays, it's useless against someone with Vince Carter's unreasonable physique. Talent... that thing, even if the coach draws all the fancy stuff on the whiteboard... he still can't draw it."
Lin Qi flipped through the scouting report in his hand and wrote comments after the names of Vince Carter and Antawn Jamison: Vince Carter's explosiveness is among the best in the country, a natural ticket booster, but his off-ball defensive discipline is extremely poor; Antawn Jamison is an efficient low-post finisher, but lacks professional-level full-court ball-handling skills. Neither of them are up to the standard of being a cornerstone of a team.
In the end, North Carolina won by sheer talent.
Two hours later, Lin Qi did not linger in North Carolina and boarded a Late Night flight to Kansas.
The following afternoon, at the Allen Fieldhouse at the University of Kansas, the nation's number one Kansas Jayhawks were facing their arch-rivals.
Lin Qi pulled his hat down low and sat in the corner of the scout box, making sure no one noticed him.
His gaze was fixed on Chris Paul Pierce, the big three forward on the court, who wore a red and blue jersey, had a broad build, and even looked somewhat mature.
Compared to Vince Carter's spectacular aerial maneuvers last night, Pierce played extremely solidly on the court this time.
Kansas's tactics were equally tight, but the way Pierce handled the ball really excited Lin Qi.
He received the ball at the high post, faced the defender with an extremely realistic triple-threat jab step, and then used his seemingly slow but powerful and rhythmic footwork to directly block the defender's position.
Turn sideways, lower your shoulder, use your strong elbow to push aside the defense, and finish a pull-up jump shot with your own unique rhythm in the mid-range.
Swish, it went into the net through the hollow.
In the next possession, the opponent launched a fast break. Pierce showed no panic typical of a college rookie during the transition defense. He accurately anticipated the opposing point guard's passing route, used his broad body to delay the pass directly at the top of the arc, jumped, and delivered a clean and decisive block.
Lin Qi sat in the stands, drew a heavy black line under Pierce's name, and wrote a comment completely different from that of the North Carolina Twins.
Chris Paul Pierce's technique is flawless. While he may not possess the absolute speed of a top-tier perimeter player, his mid-range isolation plays and rebounding are at the level of a seasoned professional. His most valuable assets are his playing style and personality; he has an extremely high tolerance for physical contact and is naturally suited to high-intensity physical battles. This kind of player is a rare gem, and the closer the game gets to the final, most intense moments, the more likely he is to step up and break the deadlock.
Lin Qi put away his pen. As a time traveler, he knew Pierce's value all too well. 1998 was a weak draft year, and all the management teams in the United States were focused on big men or promising players with good athleticism. Pierce, because his playing style wasn't explosive enough, would be severely underestimated by general managers on draft night.
If Boston can trade for a draft pick and select Pierce, Garnett will have a perfect, versatile wing player who can handle tough games alongside him.
Lin Qi closed his notebook; the blueprint for building the team in his mind was now completely complete.
After watching Chris Paul Pierce's game, Lin Qi did not immediately fly back to Boston.
He turned around and went straight to New York.
Manhattan in December is far noisier than Boston.
Inside a private basement bar booth in Manhattan, the heavy, vintage leather sofa sank in.
Matt Damon tossed his old, pilling wool coat onto the armrest. As soon as Lin Qi pushed open the door, he raised an eyebrow and chuckled, "Look who this is! The president of the Boston Celtics! Lynch, you actually have time to invite us for drinks now?"
Ben Affleck was swirling a bottle of bourbon in his hand, his face bearing the cynicism that a working-class Boston lad who had somehow managed to infiltrate Manhattan's high society still couldn't shake off.
He scoffed, dismissing the argument. " Matt, this bastard definitely isn't here to drink."
In the shadows at the far end of the box, Mark Wahlberg sat alone, an unlit cigarette between his fingers.
He lifted his eyelids, gestured with his chin towards Lin Qi, and said in a low voice, "So, let's get straight to the point, CEO. What do you want us to do?"
Lin Qi smiled, sat down, and unbuttoned his custom-made suit.
Without a word of polite conversation or small talk, under the gaze of three future Hollywood A-list stars, Lin Qi's slender fingers reached directly into the inside of his coat, precisely pulled out a document tightly bound in kraft paper, and shoved it onto the center of the round table with a "thud" along the smooth walnut wood surface.
Lin Qi leaned forward slightly, crossed his hands to support his chin, and a meaningful smile appeared on his lips.
"To be honest, I do have a favor I'd like to ask for your help with."
Matt, Ben, and Mark exchanged a glance, and the air in the private room seemed to freeze for a moment.
Lin Qi's voice became very slow.
"Do you... want... to... be... the... owners... of... the Boston Celtics?"
boom...
This sentence was like a nuclear bomb detonating in the cramped private room.
Ben Affleck's hand, which had been resting on the back of the sofa, jerked violently. He jumped up as if electrocuted, his eyes wide, and his voice trembled. "Fuck! Lin! Are you fucking crazy?! That's the Celtics! That's the oldest and most prestigious team in NBA history!"
Mark Wahlberg's fingers, which were holding a cigarette, trembled violently, and tobacco ash fell onto his work pants, but he didn't care to brush it off; he just stared intently at Lin Qi.
Matt Damon remained frozen deep within the leather sofa, staring at Lin Qi for a full half minute.
"Hahaha... You're a complete madman. You're a total madman." Matt suddenly burst into laughter, but his laughter was filled with barely suppressed trembling and excitement. "I knew it... I knew a president who could manipulate the entire league wouldn't just invite us here for drinks!"
Lin Qi picked up the glass beside him and gently swirled it between his fingers. The ice cubes struck the glass, making a crisp, cold sound.
"We still need to drink, but this is a long story..."