In the second section, the more hidden site defects of the Alamodome began to emerge, such as the hardwood floors that were temporarily laid on the concrete base.
During a counter-attack, Billups suddenly stopped and changed direction. As he pushed off with the ball of his foot, he slipped without warning. Without any cushioning, the ball slipped from his grasp and rolled directly out of bounds.
Three minutes later, Pierce dribbled at the top of the key, attempting to change the rhythm with a powerful slam. But the sound of the basketball hitting the floor was extremely dull, and the bounce was a full half-inch lower than that of a normal wooden floor.
That crucial half-inch difference caused Pierce's hand to be a beat too slow in catching the ball. The ball slipped through his fingers and was snatched by Spurs Antonio Daniels, who scored on a fast break.
Pierce stopped in his tracks, glanced down at the exquisitely varnished floorboards beneath his feet, and frowned slightly.
At the far end of the bench, veteran Ron Harper sat silently, staring at the floor.
To be precise, he was watching a small area at a 45-degree angle to the right, near the edge of the three-point line. Billups ' slip and Pierce's loss of the ball both occurred near that area. Including the other turnover in the first quarter, this was the third time.
Harper shifted his gaze to Spurs point guard Avery Johnson. The diminutive guard, instead of employing aggressive close pressure, cleverly utilized his exceptional lateral agility. With quick lateral slides, he tightly blocked the left-side penetration route, step by step, precisely forcing the Boston point guard to the right at a 45-degree angle.
Harper stood up, walked over to head coach Doc Rivers, and whispered, "There's nothing underneath that floorboard."
Doc Rivers turned his head sharply.
"Third time." Harper watched the defensive rotations on the court expressionlessly. " Johnson has been forcing our guards to move there with his lateral movements. The Spurs have been playing here for six years; they know better than anyone in the league which floor is slippery and which doesn't bounce back when you tap it. It's a natural defensive trap."
The buzzer sounded to signal the end of the first half.
The scoreboard showed the Spurs leading 48-33, a 15-point advantage.
Boston's field goal percentage plummeted to a dismal 31% in the first half, and they made only 2 of 14 three-point attempts.
The players walked toward the players' tunnel with serious expressions.
In the last row of the bench, Dominique Wilkins remained quietly seated in his folding chair. He didn't play a single minute of the entire game, nor did he wave a towel. Throughout the first half, he did only one thing.
He kept staring at the vast, bottomless space directly behind the basket. He was looking for something.
Only after the team's younger players had all gone into the tunnel did Dominique Wilkins slowly stand up, supporting himself on his knees. He took one last look at a spot behind the basket...
Twenty meters from the backboard, on the edge of the stands, hung an inconspicuous sponsor billboard. Its upper left corner was diagonally cut off by a dark gray steel beam extending from above, forming a remarkably clear and fixed acute angle against the deep, cluttered background.
Dominique Wilkins spotted the location. He draped a white towel over his shoulder, turned, and headed towards the locker room.
Inside this massive dome that attempts to strip shooters of their sense of space, the veteran finally found a physical coordinate that he could use to forcibly anchor himself to the basket.
The atmosphere in the away team's locker room was somber. Only the dull thud of ice packs hitting the floor and the players' heavy breathing could be heard.
The air conditioning here was set extremely low for some reason, and the air was chilly, making the already tense atmosphere even more strained.
Just as head coach Doc Rivers opened the clipboard and was about to speak, a deep voice suddenly came from the corner.
Doc.
Dominique Wilkins slowly stood up. Among the group of key players soaked in sweat, the veteran, who had barely played in the playoffs, appeared unusually calm.
"You're all staring intently at the basket," Dominique Wilkins said, looking at the shooters. "But in this massive, domed arena, the basket's appearance is distorted. It lacks depth, there are no reference points, which is why your shots are off."
He walked to the center of the locker room.
"Twenty meters directly behind the basket, at the very edge of the first row of the stands, there's a sponsor's advertising board. The top left corner of that board is cut off by a steel beam, forming a dark gray, acute angle." Dominique Wilkins pointed to his eyes. "That thing is inanimate; it won't move. In the second half, before you shoot, use your peripheral vision to lock onto that corner, anchor the distance to it, and your shot won't falter."
The players exchanged bewildered glances. Billups, somewhat surprised, " Dominique... how did you know?"
"I've encountered much emptier courts when I played in Europe," Dominique Wilkins said calmly. "In the first half, that emptiness made me miss over a dozen shots, until in the second half, I found a red fire hydrant in the corner of the stands."
He turned his head and looked at Doc Rivers.
" Doc, put me in for the third quarter," Dominique Wilkins said calmly. "They need someone on the court to see which corner goes in; that's what gives them confidence."
"Three minutes, Dominique." Doc Rivers nodded. "Go up there and stabilize the situation."
The third quarter had just begun, a few minutes in.
Dominique Wilkins enters the stage.
In the first possession of the game, Spurs ' Sean Elliott used a screen to directly attack the 39-year-old veteran. Dominique Wilkins tried his best to catch up, but the veteran was a step too slow. Elliott easily scored a layup.
Dominique Wilkins remained calm and quietly retreated to defense.
In the next possession, Gary Payton dribbled past half-court and glanced at Dominique Wilkins out of the corner of his eye.
Dominique Wilkins was standing at a 45-degree angle to the right, at mid-range, and he calmly raised his hand towards Gary Payton.
The ball was passed to him. Sean Elliott immediately pounced fiercely.
Upon receiving the ball, Dominique Wilkins made no unnecessary feints in the face of Elliott's tackle.
He simply raised his head slightly and glanced to the upper right.
Lock onto that dark gray acute angle.
Then, it rose from the ground.
A mid-range jump shot with classical beauty, a textbook example of precision.
Swish.
Hollow core into the net.
The moment the ball went in, the Boston bench erupted. Chauncey Billups Billups, Rashard Lewis, Brad Miller... everyone jumped up and waved towels wildly.
Dominique Wilkins didn't even turn his head.
As he retreated on defense, he passed by Chris Paul Pierce, who was standing at the top of the key, and said only one sentence in a low voice.
"Did you see that?"
In the three minutes Dominique Wilkins entered the game, Boston regained their shooting touch and their offense completely heated up. They went on a 12-2 run, and with Pierce hitting a three-pointer over the defense, the gap was quickly chipped away to just five points.
Dominique Wilkins walked very slowly when he was substituted off the field.
In just three minutes, his jersey was completely soaked with sweat, clinging tightly to his back. He walked to the bench, put his hands on his knees, and gasped for breath for a long time before slowly sitting down.
Doc Rivers walked over and patted him hard on the shoulder without saying a word.
Dominique Wilkins lifted his sweaty face and grinned at the head coach.
"I said, three minutes is enough."