Starting at four o'clock in the afternoon, the farms, workshops, and small towns around Indianapolis were empty. Pickups and trucks filled the open-air parking lot outside the arena, and local fans, their shoes stained with hay and engine oil, packed the stands of Conseco Fieldhouse to capacity.
In the other 49 states of the United States, basketball is just a sport. But in Indiana, it's a way of life. The high school basketball league here is the most developed in the country, and the fans in the stands aren't just there for the spectacle; many of them played in official games when they were young and can understand tactics and every defensive rotation.
Indiana is picky, xenophobic, and, of course, rife with blatant racial discrimination.
When Chauncey Billups Billups stepped onto the wooden floor, the boos from the stands grew louder.
Behind the basketball hoop, in the stands, many people had already held up homemade signs. There were no complicated slogans, just a crooked basketball court and an arrow flying from the sideline towards an empty seat. Next to it was written, "Pass it to me, Chauncey Billups."
Behind the basket, several local white men in plaid shirts, chewing tobacco, stood up. The leader twisted his wrist, mimicking the gesture of Chauncey Billups's fatal mistake in the previous game, and spat tobacco juice onto the floor.
"Hey kid! Go back to your slums!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, his voice dripping with undisguised discrimination. "Don't bring your brainless stunts here. This is Indiana, we're here to teach you what real basketball is!"
A burst of laughter erupted around him. Then, a second and a third person started imitating, and half the stands were repeating that humiliating gesture. That missed pass to thin air in the final moments of Game 2 had become the biggest joke of the series.
Chauncey Billups kept his head down, dribbling the ball near the center line, without glancing at the stands.
Before walking back to the bench, Lin Qi paused next to Chauncey Billups and patted the young point guard on the back.
"Ignore them," Lin Qi said. "Just focus on playing basketball and don't overthink it."
Chauncey Billups took a deep breath and nodded emphatically.
Gary Payton walked over and bumped him hard with his shoulder.
Lin Qi didn't go to the VIP box; he sat down behind the Celtics' bench.
The referee tossed the ball into the air, and Game 3 of the Eastern Conference Finals officially began.
Mutombo won the jump ball, and possession went to Gary Payton.
In the first round, Gary Payton displayed his aggressiveness.
He received the ball from the backcourt, kept his center of gravity low, and slowly dribbled across half-court. He then began to actively look for Mark Jackson.
Mark Jackson wasn't the kind of guard who could be easily pushed aside. He was broad, steady, and had a solid lower body, knowing how to use his body to force offensive players into uncomfortable positions. But the moment Gary Payton closed in, Mark still felt a brute force.
Gary Payton used his shoulder to block Mark Jackson, once, twice, using the very method Mark Jackson against him. Once, twice, he forcefully pushed the man towards the free-throw line. Mark gritted his teeth and pushed back, his arm wrapped around Gary Payton's waist, trying to disrupt his balance.
Gary Payton had been waiting for this moment when he unleashed his power.
He suddenly gathered the ball, pivoted on his left foot, and swayed his shoulder rapidly toward the baseline.
Mark Jackson's center of gravity was subconsciously shifted by half an inch.
The next second, Gary Payton had already turned back to the middle, and jumped forcefully against Mark's defense, his body leaning back. The ball flew over Mark's outstretched palm, hit the back edge of the rim, bounced, and fell into the net.
Gary Payton landed and said something to Mark Jackson.
" Mark, I feel like your God has abandoned you. Tonight, God is on my side."
The voice wasn't loud, but Mark Jackson heard it clearly. He walked past Gary Payton, his face turning ashen.
On defense, Gary Payton began to closely guard Mark Jackson from midcourt. As soon as Jackson received the ball, Gary Payton's left hand was frantically sweeping, flicking, shoving, and poking between Jackson's chest and the basketball. With this defensive move that relentlessly tested the limits of fouling, he was telling Jackson: Tonight, you won't be able to comfortably dribble the ball across half-court.
The Pacers ' first offensive possession was completely disrupted. Mark Jackson managed to lob the ball to Smits just before the shot clock expired. Smits was about to turn and hook the ball in the low post when Mutombo's long arms blocked all shooting angles from behind.
The ball bounced off the rim. Chris Paul Pierce grabbed the rebound, and the Celtics immediately launched a fast break.
Gary Payton receives the ball and advances. Mark Jackson retreats while spreading his arms at the top of the key, keeping a close eye on Gary Payton's hips, wary of him backing down to the basket again.
But this time, Gary Payton had no intention of slowing down at all. Mark Jackson was too slow.
Gary Payton charged forward, heading straight for Mark Jackson. Just before the two were about to collide, Gary Payton suddenly pushed off with his left foot, changing direction and sweeping past him cleanly, cutting right into the Pacers ' defense.
Dale Davis dropped his defender and moved in from the weak side, ready to tackle Gary Payton and the ball at the edge of the paint.
Gary Payton watched the big man rushing towards him and his pace slowed down strangely. Before Davis's long arms could block the angle, he gently flicked the ball upwards and to the side with one hand.
This is his signature move: the layup. Gary Payton was the first star point guard to incorporate this high-arcing floater extensively into his regular offense, using it to score over the basket.
The basketball traced a very high arc, almost grazing Davis's fingertips as it flew over his head and obediently fell into the Nets.
Gary Payton turned back to defend, grinning at Davis.
In the next possession, Jackson was still entangled with Gary Payton. The relentless pressure forced Mark Jackson to protect the ball with his body turned to the side, and he could only look up intermittently.
When the ball finally reached Reggie Miller, Eddie Jones was marking him very closely, leaving him no room to shoot. The ball had to return to Mark Jackson, who glanced at the timer, then at Gary Payton, his expression clearly darkening.
Gary Payton laughed even harder.
The Celtics attacked again, with Gary Payton receiving the ball at the top of the key. This time, Mark Jackson blocked him with his body, preventing him from easily entering the paint. Gary Payton dribbled twice with his back to the basket, but didn't force his way in. He used his left shoulder to fake a series of movements, then suddenly turned to the baseline, his footwork so fast it was as if he was gliding across the floor. Rick Smits moved laterally from under the basket, raising his hand to block Payton's shooting angle.
Gary Payton raised the ball in mid-air. For a moment, everyone thought he was going to shoot.
Having learned from Davis's experience, Rick Smits was wary of Gary Payton's layup, which was specifically designed to target big men, and instinctively jumped half a step higher.
Gary Payton still didn't shoot. With a practiced flick of his wrist in the air, the ball flew diagonally from under Smits's arm to the other side. Garnett cut in along the middle, caught the ball, and didn't even need to dribble before slamming it into the basket with both hands.
The rim jolted from the impact of the slam dunk.
The Celtics ' bench erupted in a frenzy. Garnett landed with a low growl, and Gary Payton walked past him, punching him in the chest.
This is where Gary Payton's real trouble lies.
He's not just a pure power guard who can only dominate in the low post. He's a point guard. A point guard who can use his back-to-the-basket game, footwork, speed, and rhythm to completely outmaneuver defenders. If you don't double-team him, he has a whole set of sophisticated one-on-one skills to deal with you. But if you do double-team him, he can quickly find an open teammate.
This is the situation Gary Payton wanted.
He first dominated Mark Jackson, then used his passing to tell the Pacers that help defense was useless.
The Celtics ' offense clicked. Every back-to-the-basket move, stop-and-go, and layup fake by Gary Payton forced the Pacers ' defense to collapse and hesitate until he created an opening.
The boos at Conseco Fieldhouse began to grow louder.
Gary Payton heard it, but just laughed.
He likes this. The louder the shouting, the more it shows the other person is afraid.
Courtside, Larry Bird Larry Bird stood with his hands in his pockets, his face expressionless. As Mark Jackson passed by, Larry Bird merely turned his head slightly and spoke in a low voice.
"Don't argue with him. Slow down, be patient, and focus on getting past Reggie."
Mark Jackson nodded.
Larry Bird's meaning was clear. Gary Payton is riding high right now, and going head-to-head with him will only drag the game into his rhythm. What the Pacers really need to do is drag the Celtics into another kind of exhaustion, get Reggie Miller running, and bring the game into their familiar rhythm.
As they turned around, the Pacers ' overall offensive rhythm instantly slowed down.
Mark Jackson dribbled the ball across half-court, but instead of rushing to challenge Gary Payton, he positioned himself sideways to steadily protect the ball, observing the movement on the off-ball side as he dribbled.
Reggie Miller moved. He started from the baseline, first feigning a cut to the left, then suddenly turned back, weaving between Rick Smits and Dale Davis. Eddie Jones stayed close, but after going around two screens, his body inevitably clashed with the Pacers ' big men.
That's what Larry Bird meant. The Pacers were patiently waiting for Miller to create that one sliver of opportunity.
Just as Miller circled out to the right at a 45-degree angle, the Celtics ' overall defense did not lose its position, and Jones had even caught up behind him, but the fleeting space to receive the ball had already been revealed.
Mark Jackson's pass went perfectly.
Miller caught the ball, turned, and without pausing or adjusting, jumped directly to meet Jones's outstretched hand. His release was extremely fast; the ball was already flying before Jones could close in.
Swish. Three-pointer made.
In the following possessions, the Pacers began to wear down the Celtics in this way. The home team's defense was very tight, but Miller just kept running. He would circle around the baseline, then the high post, make cuts, and then turn back, using his movement to wear down the defenders' stamina.
Any defensive system will inevitably leave a fleeting gap when faced with such continuous off-ball screens.
Eddie Jones ran into several screens in a row, but was a fraction too slow. Just that half-beat too slow, and Miller received the ball again on the right side of the free-throw line, jumped, and made a long two-pointer.
At the technical table, Chauncey Billups took off his warm-up suit. As soon as the announcer called his name, a deafening chorus of boos was quelled.
Behind the basket, in the stands, thousands of people raised their hands again, repeating that humiliating pass-the-empty-ball gesture.
Gary Payton walked to the bench, gave Chauncey Billups a high-five, and whispered, "Play well, let me rest a bit more."