The day after the team won the game with rested players, the Boston media quickly changed their tune.
The Boston Globe used a lighthearted headline with a touch of irony.
So, do we really need a main force?
As for the veteran commentator who was mocking Boston in the ESPN studio yesterday, he didn't mention his comments at all on the show today, and instead began to praise Boston's amazing bench depth.
Lin Qi, the mastermind behind all of this, was sitting calmly in his president's office on the top floor of the stadium.
Winning against Philadelphia was just a regular season game.
Resting Mutombo and Harper is not a publicity stunt.
In the eyes of traditional basketball coaches, Lin Qi was risking the regular season record. But only Lin Qi himself knew that in this special season with a lockout and a schedule compressed to only fifty games, the dense back-to-back games and continuous away trips would be a huge test for the players' bodies.
What he wanted was never a winning streak at the beginning of the regular season, nor was it a respectable top spot on the roster.
What he wants is for his Boston Celtics to still be a fully-fledged, in-form team, ready to fight at any moment, when the season is in April and May, and all the key players in the league are exhausted and plagued by injuries from the packed schedule.
This is a long-term gamble with the entire season at stake. And tonight is just the first chip he's put up.
What truly gave Lin Qi the confidence to withstand the internal dissent within management and forcefully push forward this system, which seemed incomprehensible at the time, came from the memories in his mind that transcended this era.
He had seen far too many regrettable examples.
He has seen countless players who were originally very talented, but were overused by coaches when they were young and not properly protected, ultimately fading away due to serious injuries at their prime. He has also seen too many powerhouses achieve excellent results in the regular season, only to be eliminated in the first round of the crucial playoffs because their key players were exhausted.
In the future, this logic will be known by a name that will be adopted by the entire league: [Load Management].
Accompanying it is a vast system comprised of sports medicine, data monitoring, and physical recovery. It extends the careers of countless star players and, invisibly, determines who wins the championship.
But it was 1999. In an environment where everything was still managed in a very rudimentary way, all these ideas had not yet been born.
The current league upholds the traditional view of "playing through minor injuries." If you're injured, just take a painkiller and keep playing; if you're tired, just push through the entire game. In the eyes of those old-school coaches, the only standard for judging whether a player is tough enough is whether you can play a full 48 minutes on the court.
What Lin Qi had to do was to push this scientific concept, which was 20 years ahead of its time, into Boston, despite everyone looking at him like he was crazy.
The day after the Celtics' resounding victory over Philadelphia, a new team notice was posted in the center of the Celtics ' locker room bulletin board by staff.
Effective immediately, all first-team players must undergo mandatory comprehensive physical examinations every two weeks by the medical team. These examinations include, but are not limited to: joint and ligament assessments, deep muscle fatigue testing, and dynamic cardiopulmonary load assessments. No player may refuse or delay these examinations for any personal reason; violators will face immediate suspension and fines.
A group of players who had just finished training quickly gathered around the notice board.
"Every two weeks? They even scan muscles with that machine?" Gary Payton chewed gum, raising an eyebrow with his signature disdain. "Has Lin Qi lost his mind?"
"Come on, Gary. I don't think it's a bad thing." P.J. Brown, who was standing next to him, chuckled and draped a towel around his neck. "A free, top-notch physical, with the best doctors. You couldn't even get an appointment with one outside. Consider this an employee perk from upper management."
"Benefits?" Gary Payton scoffed. "I'd rather spend that time on the court than lie on a lab machine every fourteen days being studied like a lab rat."
The young rookies around them shrank back, not daring to join in the older players' conversation. However, in their hearts, they naturally preferred this practice that protected their health, since no one would risk their professional lifespan.
Amidst the murmurs and half-joking complaints, no one noticed the tall figure standing on the outermost edge of the crowd, in the shadows of the lights.
Ben Wallace.
This center, who was usually quiet and had a very low profile on the team, was staring intently at the words "Mandatory Comprehensive Physical Examination" on the notice board. For a moment, his usually taut face showed a rare and complex emotion mixed with unease and resistance.
He then made no comment, simply turned around silently, and walked towards his locker.
On the third day of the mandatory physical examination, it was Ben Wallace's turn.
The Celtics' newly established modern medical center is located on the basement level of the arena. It has just been renovated, and the air is free of the mixed smells of drugs and sweat found in traditional physiotherapy rooms. Instead, there are bright, cool white lights, spotless new equipment, and a professional medical team that Lin Qi poached from top medical schools and sports rehabilitation institutions at great expense.
Ben Wallace, wearing a black sleeveless vest, sat silently on the examination bed.
"Put your hands down, relax, young man."
The lead team doctor was an elderly man with gray hair and gold-rimmed glasses. Unlike the traditional team doctors in the league at the time who just symbolically pinched the joints, he carried a five-page comprehensive assessment form and, with three young assistants, meticulously examined Big Ben's ankles, knee cartilage, and lumbar ligaments.
"Grip strength test, right hand first." The old team doctor handed over a metal force gauge.
Big Ben, expressionless, stretched out his large, calloused hand, gripped the alloy handle of the instrument, and suddenly exerted force with his knuckles.
The pointer left a Afterimage almost instantly before slamming into the top of the dial, producing a crisp metallic clang.
The young assistant next to him, who was taking notes, twitched his eyelids and couldn't help but click his tongue in amazement.
"Switch to your left hand."
Big Ben did as instructed. The pointer, unsurprisingly, continued to approach the top. However, the old chief team doctor, observing the slight difference between the two readings, frowned almost imperceptibly. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, said nothing, but simply patted Big Ben's right arm. "Right wrist, do a few maximum angles of flexion, extension, and internal rotation."
Big Ben obediently rotated his right wrist.
The veteran team doctor put on medical the Glove, extended two fingers, and precisely pressed down on several hidden points where the ulnar side of Big Ben's right wrist connected to the base of his palm.
"Is there a sharp pain here?"
"It doesn't hurt," Big Ben said succinctly, his voice very low.
The veteran team doctor moved his finger half an inch diagonally upwards, then suddenly increased the pressure, pushing it deep into the tendon gap. "And here?"
"... It's a little sore." Big Ben's eyelid twitched, and he paused for half a second before returning to normal. "It usually gets sore after playing basketball or doing barbell presses. It'll be fine after a night's rest, and it won't affect my game."
The veteran team doctor removed his the Glove, his expression turning somewhat serious for some reason. He didn't immediately draw a conclusion, but instead instructed his assistant to bring over a neuromyograph with a weak electrical current, and had Big Ben repeatedly perform various resistance, gripping, and wrist eversion movements.
The old man's eyes were fixed on the curve on the display screen beside him, which represented tendon conduction and nerve response and was showing a slightly jagged abnormality.
This specialized examination of a single wrist lasted a full hour, much longer than any All-Star player on the team.