Eastern Conference Finals, Game 4, Indianapolis.
During the pre-match warm-up, the balls from both teams bounced heavily on the wooden floor, like a torrential downpour hitting a tin roof.
Ron Harper was the last player on the court. He was wearing loose-fitting training clothes, with thick, separate braces on both knees, and he walked with a slight pigeon-toed gait. He strolled around half the baseline, first looking up at the spotlights on the arena ceiling, then looking down and rubbing the floor with the soles of his shoes.
"Is he sleepwalking?" Pierce stopped shooting and asked, puzzled.
Chauncey Billups Billups, head down practicing his crossover dribble, didn't even look up. "Look at the light."
"What?"
"He said there was a problem with the lights at the Pacers ' home arena," Chauncey Billups said. "The right corner. He watched the tape last night, Reggie Miller's three-point percentage from that spot dropped a bit in this year's playoffs."
Pierce paused for a moment, then turned to look at the corner. The flashbulbs were indeed dazzling. He looked at Harper again, who was still standing there motionless, head tilted back, eyes squinting.
With eight minutes and nineteen seconds remaining in the first quarter, a person stood up in front of the scorer's table.
Reggie Miller glanced back. Since the last game, he'd developed a habit... whenever the Celtics made a substitution, the first thing he did was confirm who was coming on.
Harper slowly took off his training clothes. Reggie turned around and dribbled the ball twice. At that moment, Lin Qi, sitting in the away bench, noticed something subtle: Reggie's running route had changed.
He's hiding.
Harper did nothing on his first possession. He stood near the free-throw line like an old man taking a stroll. Reggie ran a circle on the weak side, but the ball didn't come to him, and he didn't even glance in that direction.
In the second round, Smits stepped up to cover for Reggie.
As the script of the first three games showed, the defender had to desperately squeeze through the screen, be knocked off balance by Smits ' massive 260-pound frame, and then grit his teeth and chase after him.
Harper didn't try to squeeze in.
He took a step back and calmly circled around to the other side of the cover, as if he had known all along that Reggie would come out from that side.
When Reggie came out, Harper was already standing there. He was tall and big, like a mountain.
I didn't dare pass the ball.
In the third possession, Reggie circled out from the baseline. This time, Harper didn't even move; he simply stood at the top of the three-point line and yelled at Chris Paul Pierce in the right corner.
" Chris Paul! Ice!"
This is a secret code that the team has practiced countless times; "Ice" means to corner the opponent at the baseline.
Pierce reacted extremely quickly, blocking Reggie's path to receive the ball half a step in advance.
Reggie rushed to the corner, looked up, and saw Pierce in front of him and Harper behind him. Mark Jackson at the top of the key held the ball, waited for six seconds, couldn't find a passing space, and could only force a pass to Dale Davis in the low post.
The ball had barely left his hand when Mutombo was already positioned under the basket.
"Smack!"
The ball was swatted directly to the baseline.
Near the end of the first quarter, Reggie finally found an opportunity. Harper was half a second too slow, and Reggie received the ball at a 45-degree angle on the right side.
He jumped and shot. The ball spun half a circle on the rim and bounced out.
Reggie paused for a moment when he landed...
He could normally get into that spot with his eyes closed.
In the second quarter, Harper took over the defensive command on the court.
"Change! Kevin, come out here!"
"Don't double-team PJ, let him drive!"
"Stunt!"
This is the most crucial disruption tactic in defense: instead of actually double-teaming, the player feints to cut off the ball handler's passing vision.
Upon hearing the instruction, Garnett suddenly shifted half a step to the side the instant Reggie received the ball, assuming a double-team stance. Reggie's vision was instantly blocked, and his passing motion paused instinctively. In that instant of hesitation, Harper had already closed in from behind.
"Trap!"
Harper shouted. "Trap" means a real double team; the two players must immediately surround each other, leaving no gaps for passing.
Pierce immediately filled the gap. The two formed a double-team in the corner of the sideline, trapping Reggie in place and unable to pass the ball. Mark Jackson couldn't find any passing space at a distance, Reggie could only barely pass the ball to Mullin before losing his balance, but the three-pointer missed.
Halftime score: Reggie Miller, 0-for-8 shooting, zero points.
Pierce stared at the paper, dumbfounded. Harper snatched it away and threw it away. "We still have the second half to play."
In the third quarter, Larry Bird Larry Bird changed tactics. He stopped having Reggie run those complicated, conventional screens and started stacking screens. He had Smits and Davis run cross screens like crazy outside the three-point line, trying to completely screen Harper and create even half a second of open space for Reggie.
Reggie was drenched in sweat, constantly crossing the baseline and skirting the penalty area, trying to shake off Harper, that persistent nuisance.
Reggie finally managed to leap up and strike through an extremely narrow gap.
Harper's fingers almost touched the tip of his nose. It was an arc he'd thrown countless times throughout his career, but tonight his rhythm was being sliced too thin by his opponent.
The ball bounced off the rim.
Harper's running didn't lessen his pressure. As long as Reggie was on the field, the veteran's hands constantly interfered with his vision of receiving the ball. Reggie's confidence that "as long as he gets into open space, he can score" was being eroded little by little by this constant close marking.
In the fourth quarter, the big screen displayed live stats: Reggie Miller, 1-for-14.
The final buzzer sounded, 101-87.
Reggie Miller scored only 5 points on 1-of-15 shooting.
When the two teams shook hands, Reggie walked up to Harper and shook his hand. He stared at Harper for a while, his eyes not showing the frustration of defeat, but rather a scrutiny of a worthy opponent.
"You're still as difficult as ever," Reggie said in a low voice. "And, I've almost figured out what your codes mean."
Harper smiled but didn't respond.
The players boarded the vehicles one by one, the engines humming dully in the Indiana night.
Doc Rivers pushed open the door and came out; Lin Qi was leaning against the wall in the corridor.
"You're right," Doc Rivers said first. "If we had started Ron from the beginning, we probably would have won more easily."
He unscrewed the water bottle, took a sip, and then said, "I told you a bunch of things about locker rooms, team spirit, and stuff... Looking back, I guess I was a bit silly."
Lin Qi chuckled. " Doc, you're right. If we start Harper right away, the players will have a grudge, and that will cause big problems in the NBA Finals. We can't afford to take that risk."
Doc Rivers remained silent for a long time.
"Lin, is that really what you think? Or is it just polite talk?"
"Yes, believe me, that's why I hired you as head coach. To help me think about these issues that I wasn't even aware of."
Doc Rivers grinned; it was the first time he'd smiled in this series.
"3-1," Doc Rivers said. "Go home and play Game 5."
After taking a couple of steps, he turned back. "By the way, Ron still won't start in the next game."
Lin Qi shrugged. "Suit yourself, you're the head coach."