In the final seven minutes of the fourth quarter, the situation on the court completely changed.
Gary Payton's return to the court instantly brought immense pressure on both ends of the court.
On the Hornets' third possession, as Mason once again bent over to receive the ball in the elbow area, Gary Payton on the perimeter suddenly let out a roar.
" Kevin! Keep an eye on him!"
Garnett felt a jolt, and the words Gary Payton had spoken to him in the locker room earlier flashed through his mind.
" Kevin, listen up. When that big fat Anthony Mason backs down in the low post, ignore which way his shoulders are swaying and don't look at his butt. That bastard has a habit: whenever he wants to pass the ball to the perimeter, he'll glance in that direction a split second before he releases the shot. As soon as you see his eyes move, don't hesitate, that's his signal to pass! Go intercept the pass!"
Garnett abruptly stopped his momentum, forcefully shifting his center of gravity and placing his long arm directly in front of Mason.
Sure enough, although Mason's shoulder was bumping to the left, his gaze subtly shifted to the right...
That's the direction Glen Rice is heading.
"Stay here!"
Garnett used his long arms to scoop up the ball and accurately cut off the passing lane.
The basketball was flicked away by his fingertips, and Gary Payton, who had anticipated its trajectory, darted out and stole the ball.
Counterattack.
Gary Payton dribbled across the center line and, before the Hornets' defense could get into position, delivered a one-handed behind-the-back pass.
Garnett caught the ball and slammed it home with a powerful two-handed dunk.
The entire stadium erupted in cheers, nearly lifting the roof off the stadium.
Gary Payton ran back, shouting at Garnett as he retreated on defense, "Well done, big man! That's the way to play!"
Garnett pounded his chest excitedly and roared back, "Again!"
With Gary Payton's on-court coaching, the Celtics ' defense came alive instantly.
Gary Payton dribbled steadily across half-court. On the sidelines, Coach Pitino was yelling and waving his arms wildly, shouting tactical signals, "Set up a half-court offense! Play ' Blues No. 5 '! Move the ball up! Run screens! Spread the floor!!"
Gary Payton didn't even spare a glance for the sidelines.
He knew perfectly well that this so-called " Blues No. 5 " was nothing more than the same dynamic offense that Pitino had overused when he won the championship at University of Kentucky. The Hornets' veteran players on the court weren't deaf either; they were all too familiar with Pitino's academic style. Upon hearing this signature number combination, the defenders didn't even falter in their footwork, immediately shifting laterally to block and desperately cutting off all the perimeter receiving points on the strong side.
The opponent has already set up their net; if we continue with the predictable passing and passing, the ball will definitely be intercepted.
Screw dynamic positioning.
Gary Payton's eyes narrowed. He keenly noticed that the Hornets, in their attempt to completely block the perimeter, had shifted the entire defensive focus to the strong side. Since you're all so eager to cover the positions on the playsheet, then... the middle is empty!
Without any warning, Gary Payton suddenly flicked his wrist subtly beyond the three-point line. Instead of passing the ball to the strong side as instructed by the tactics, the ball was delivered as a cold, low bounce, piercing through the defensive gap and precisely into Garnett's hands at the free-throw line.
Garnett received the ball and made a pass to Eddie Jones, who was cutting in the opposite direction, for a layup and also drew a foul.
The score difference was reduced to just 4 points.
The scene of the two star players' seamless teamwork on the court was broadcast live on the big screen, and the 20,000 Boston fans in the stands cheered.
Only Pitino, standing in front of the coaching bench, had a terrifyingly dark expression.
With one minute remaining in the game, the Celtics rallied with a strong defensive counterattack, taking a two-point lead. The Charlotte Hornets' final long-range three-pointer missed, ending the game.
The Celtics completed a stunning comeback at home, winning 98-95.
But when I walked into the players' tunnel, there was no music in the locker room, only heavy breathing.
In the post-match press conference room, camera flashes were going off.
The Boston local reporter immediately pointed the microphone at Pitino: "Coach Pitino, in the fourth quarter, after Gary Payton returned to the court, the team clearly abandoned the tactical system you set up before the game. Was this the turning point to win?"
Pitino rested his chin on his interlaced fingers, his voice icy. " Gary demonstrated his individual ability. However, we must be soberly aware that a team aiming for the championship absolutely cannot build victory on the individual emotions and improvisation of its players."
A reporter immediately pressed, "You mean, the key players didn't execute your tactics?"
Pitino paused for three seconds, then replied calmly, "What I'm emphasizing is that great teams must win using the right methods. There are still many areas on this path that we need to correct."
The next morning, the headlines on the front pages of Boston's mainstream sports newspapers were extremely subtle...
Winning, or winning "correctly"?
Seeing the bold headlines on the clipping board, Gary Payton let out a mocking sneer, "How novel. Now, the way the whole league wins a game is judged by the old men sitting in their offices?"
In the corner, Tony Delk lowered his head and spoke in a low voice, "Actually... the coach isn't wrong. If everyone on the court changes tactics arbitrarily, wouldn't the whole team fall into complete chaos?"
McCarty, who had been silent until now, muttered under his breath, "But the problem is... this is the NBA, not college."
These words silenced the locker room instantly. The harsh reality was that even Pitino's loyal followers couldn't deny this.
At 10:00 AM, the routine training session began.
To everyone's surprise, Pitino unusually refrained from giving a lengthy tactical speech today.
With a stern face, he directly announced the start of the group competition.
Starting lineup: Gary Payton, Eddie Jones, Robert Horry, Kevin Garnett, Dikembe Mutombo.
Backup rotation: Tony Delk, Ron Mercer, Derrick Anderson, Wall McCarty, P.J. Brown
Pitino stood expressionless at the center line, his voice icy. "Today's lesson will focus on only one thing... absolute execution. Listen carefully, in the upcoming scrimmage, anyone who alters the tactics on the field without authorization, regardless of whether they score or not, is immediately kicked off the field."
Hearing these blatantly directed remarks, Gary Payton stood beyond the three-point line, a slight, contemptuous smile playing on his lips.
"Beep--!!"
The competition has officially begun.
In the third round, the starting lineup advanced. Gary Payton patiently passed the ball along the predetermined route. However, because this tactic had been practiced too many times in training, the opposing Delk, with his aggressiveness, directly dived to intercept the passing route.
In the chaos, Gary Payton, with his seasoned experience, regained control by shielding the ball with his back to goal. Just as he was about to organize another run, he caught a glimpse of the fatal defensive gap left by Delk's rash tackle, while Garnett had already cut into the penalty area.
The playbook should have passed the ball to the corner, but in reality, there was no one under the basket.
To hell with his tactics.
Gary Payton flicked his wrist, delivering a low, bounce pass that pierced precisely through the defender's legs. Garnett, facing off against McCarty's help defense, completed a thunderous dunk over him.
"Boom!!"
"Beep--!!!!"
Before Garnett could even land on the rim, a piercing whistle blared.
Coach Pitino, stomping angrily, charged up to Gary Payton, pointing his finger at him and roaring, " Gary Payton! What did I just say?! You have to finish the play! Finish it completely!"
Gary Payton, expressionless, pointed to the still-trembling rim. "But he dunked it, coach. We scored."
"I'm not asking about results! Don't give me that nonsense!" Pitino's voice shrilled. "What I'm looking for today is absolute execution! Discipline! Rules!"
Gary Payton stared at him, then sneered, "Execution? Coach, the opposing defense has just been torn to shreds. In this situation, who are you running for? For the media watching from the second floor?"
The entire training hall fell into a deathly silence in an instant. There were no media, no fans, only players covered in sweat, and President Lin Qi standing quietly on the second-floor tactical observation platform.
Pitino felt his authority being trampled underfoot. He stared intently at Gary Payton and coldly asked, "Who is the head coach in this team?!"
Gary Payton casually tucked the ball around his waist, looking straight at Pitino: "If your strategy is figured out by the opponent from the very first second on the field, I'll change it. Because I want to win, I don't want to play college house with you."
Pitino's voice lowered, carrying an undeniable coldness. "Then let me make this clear. This is Boston. In my team, anyone who can't execute the tactics 100%, no matter how famous they are or how much they earn, will sit on the bench until they die."
The sneer on Gary Payton's face finally vanished completely.
Garnett's expression changed, and he was about to rush forward to argue, but Eddie Jones held him down firmly.
In the center of the field, Gary Payton and Pitino stared at each other for a full five seconds.
"Are you sure you really want to be so certain?" Gary Payton's voice was soft.
Pitino puffed out his chest. "I'm sure."
"Okay." Gary Payton nodded, casually tossing the basketball to the trainer.
"Let's see who can outlast whom."
After saying that, Gary Payton turned around and walked slowly towards the stadium goal.
Rick Pitino just laid down a rule in front of the entire team: either obey orders or sit on the bench.
Gary Payton, too, demonstrated by his departure that he was completely unmoved by this approach.
In the shadows on the second floor.
Lin Qi stood quietly by the railing, his hands gripping the bars. He didn't utter a sound from beginning to end. He knew very well that at this critical juncture, if he uttered even a single word, the entire team would interpret it as him taking sides.
But in reality, Lin Qi had already foreseen the final outcome of this farce.