After the first round, Boston's next opponent is the Philadelphia 76ers.
A true underdog team. Fifth in the Eastern Conference during the regular season, they upset the fourth-seeded Orlando Magic 3-1. No one was surprised, because Philadelphia has one player who gives everyone a headache.
Allen Iverson, 23 years old, is the league's leading scorer this season, averaging 26.8 points per game.
This was his third year in the league and Larry Bird Brown's second year coaching Philadelphia. In this shortened season, Brown did something that changed everything: he moved Iverson from point guard to shooting guard.
The reins were completely untied.
Iverson no longer needed to focus on orchestrating the team's offense or figuring out how to make his teammates comfortable taking shots. He only needed to cross half-court, pass the ball, and then make off-ball runs, receive the ball, and charge forward. As a result, the entire league witnessed that deadly crossover, that signature cornrow hairstyle, and the unstoppable the Answer despite his 1.83-meter height.
Brown's lineup was almost brutally simple: one genius was responsible for the offense, while the other four were only responsible for defense, rebounding, and using their bodies to box out and screen.
Eric Snow was responsible for getting the ball to him and then going full-court defense on the opponent's ace. Veteran Harvey Grant relentlessly clung to his man on the wing, using his experience to relentlessly exploit the opponent's spearhead. Matt Geiger and Tyrone Hill used their massive bodies to create a meat grinder in the paint, battling and boxing out. Theo Ratliff became a mobile gatekeeper in the paint.
This isn't a balanced team; it's a monster that stakes everything on one player and then uses a bunch of blue-collar tough guys to plug all the holes. Their offense is low-ranked, but they can drag the game into a physical battle, wearing you down point by point.
This strategy has a flaw and an unsolvable problem.
The weakness is that, apart from Iverson, no one else on the team can handle the ball and win games. If you shut him down, the entire team's offense will instantly shut down.
The unsolvable problem is that you simply can't defend against him.
Brown prepared numerous double screens and reverse runs for him, allowing him to gain half a body length advantage when he received the ball. If the defender was a beat too slow, he would use a crossover to drive into the paint. If the defender was too close, he could force his way in despite the contact, using his terrifying core strength to put the ball in the basket and even get a free throw.
So this series, in essence, only has two questions.
The Philadelphia needs to answer is: besides Iverson, who else can step up?
The Boston needs to answer is: who should be used to defend against this unstoppable the Answer?
For Lin Qi, this round will be a grueling, skin-peeling battle. Philadelphia doesn't have a star-studded roster, just a genius and a group of hard-working blue-collar workers. Their toughest thing is their resilience. Even if you're up by twenty points, they'll still try to contest your defense and relentlessly attack the basket until the final buzzer.
There's a high probability that Iverson will single-handedly secure a victory in one of his games. Forty points, a crossover dribble that knocks down the guard, and a deafening roar from the crowd...
That's determined by talent; you simply can't defend against it.
Unless, of course, someone else in Philadelphia suddenly has a shooting touch that explodes this round.
The entire suspense of the series rests on this "unless".
Game 1 of the Eastern Conference Semifinals, New Garden.
The spotlights on the dome seemed to be melting the floor, and the noise from the arena was almost deafening.
Less than six minutes into the game, Larry Bird Brown was forced to call the first timeout.
He didn't even grab a clipboard; he just stood on the sidelines, his brow furrowed, waving at the players on the court. The Philadelphia 76ers players walked back one by one, their heavy footsteps accompanied by the screeching sound of their shoes rubbing against the wooden floor. Iverson was the last to walk, clutching his collar, sweat streaming down his forehead.
The scoreboard on the big screen showed that Philadelphia had made one of their first ten shots.
It's not just that my touch is bad; it's that even taking a shot is almost a matter of luck.
Under the Celtics' impenetrable defense, it was difficult to even find an open shot; many times, they could only shoot over the defense.
Brown's gaze swept over the players. Eric Snow was biting his mouthguard, Matt Geiger was panting heavily with his hands on his knees, Sio Ratliff was rubbing his wrists back and forth. Iverson stood on the far side, casually grabbing a towel and draping it around his neck, his chest heaving, but his eyes were fixed on the Celtics players on the other side.
"They're deliberately wearing you down." Brown wiped his face and cut straight to the point, "The ball needs to move. Allen, call for a screen as soon as you cross half-court, call it early, don't wait until Gary Payton gets on your heels."
Iverson didn't utter a sound, but ripped the towel off his neck, threw it forcefully against the back of the chair, and turned to walk onto the court.
The game resumed, and the ball was once again in Iverson's hands.
Gary Payton immediately closed in, taking the lead in defense from the moment the ball was inbounded from the baseline. His defensive moves were simple and unpretentious, but he practically pressed his entire body against Iverson. Gary Payton's hands aggressively reached for the ball, trying to disrupt the rhythm of Iverson's every dribble.
Iverson bent his knees and lowered his center of gravity, the basketball almost skimming the floor as it bounced between his fingertips. He took a quick step outward with his right foot, the toe of his shoe barely touching the ground, and with a sudden flick of his wrist, pulled the ball back to his left, attempting to use the shift in his center of gravity to shake off the entanglement.
He didn't shake him off. Gary Payton shifted his stance slightly, then immediately followed up with his body. He subtly used his hips to thrust forward, forcefully regaining his defensive position.
With no way out, Iverson could only turn sideways, using his ball-protecting hand to shield Gary Payton and struggle forward.
One step, two steps, three steps. By the time he crossed the half-court line, a full seven seconds of the shot clock had been used up.
The Boston fans on the sidelines booed and jeered, interspersed with sporadic applause, which was even more infuriating than direct boos.
Gary Payton whispered in Iverson's ear, "Seven seconds to get past half-court. If that's the ' The Answer,' it certainly doesn't answer tonight's questions."
Tyrone Hill moved up to the high post to set a screen. Iverson used the screen to accelerate to the left in an instant. His unparalleled first step was still sharp, the sole of his shoe screeching against the floor, so fast that the front row audience instinctively leaned out halfway.
But just as he crossed the free-throw line, the defender in front of him turned to Kevin Garnett, who had switched onto him.
The Celtics ' defense was layered and overlapping; once one was breached, another appeared.
Garnett used his long legs to take big strides and block the position, spreading his long arms wide, like driving prey, forcing Iverson to move into the area he was least comfortable with.
Iverson stopped abruptly, his shoes screeching as he passed the ball between his legs, switching it from his left to his right hand. His sharp eyes caught a glimpse of movement inside; Ratliff was cutting towards the basket.
There was only a very narrow gap between the two players. Any point guard would most likely have pulled the ball back to the top of the key to organize the play.
But Iverson didn't even look at the inside; with a strange flick of his wrist, he forcefully shoved the ball into the crowd.
The basketball had barely left his hands when Eddie Jones, like a cheetah smelling blood, darted out from the weak-side blind spot and intercepted the pass in mid-air with one hand.
The New Garden erupted in deafening cheers.