At the end of the third quarter, the Spurs led 71-65.
As the players headed to the bench, Boston's assistant coach Thibodeau was whispering something rapidly in Doc Rivers' ear. The two coaches' expressions didn't relax as the score narrowed; instead, they grew increasingly serious.
Throughout the third quarter, the Spurs did not change any of their defensive strategies.
Popovich just stood by and watched, helplessly as Boston went on a run, chipping away at the 15-point deficit to five.
He's waiting.
There are nine minutes left in the fourth quarter.
Boston's furious comeback continues. Gary Payton received the ball in the low post with his back to the basket, using his strong body to back down Avery Johnson step by step until he was inside the free-throw line, then with an extremely smooth spin move, he made a floater.
73 to 71.
The difference is now only two points.
For the first time, a noticeable sense of panic emerged from the buzzing noise of the Alamodome.
At that very moment, Gregg Popovich finally stood up from his chair.
He called a pause.
After the timeout, the Spurs made a substitution.
The diminutive Avery Johnson was benched. He was replaced by Jerome Kersey.
Kersey is a pure forward, practically invisible on offense, posing no threat whatsoever. But he's 1.98 meters tall and weighs 215 pounds.
After he came on, he went straight to Gary Payton.
In the next possession, Gary Payton again reached for the ball in the low post, preparing to repeat his previous tactic.
He took the ball, lowered his center of gravity, and forced his way in.
It can't be pushed up.
Gary Payton paused for a moment, gritted his teeth, changed the angle of his force, and slammed into her again.
It remained completely still.
Gary Payton's offensive space was completely locked down, and he could only force a turn and barely manage a jump shot with Kersey's large hand covering his face.
Clang. Forging iron.
In the next possession, Gary Payton called for the ball on the perimeter. Kersey aggressively took up defensive position early, and Gary Payton, in a hasty turn, crashed directly into Kersey's broad chest.
The referee blew the whistle; Gary Payton committed an offensive foul.
The last three minutes.
The Spurs lead 80-77, a three-point advantage.
Boston has possession.
Doc Rivers called one last long timeout and drew up a simple play: Gary Payton and Garnett ran a pick-and-roll at the high post, and Garnett drove to the basket.
After the timeout, Gary Payton, with a grim face, dribbled the ball across half-court. Garnett set a screen, blocking Kersey with remarkable solidity.
The tactic had worked. Ahead lay an open field. Just as Gary Payton was about to unleash his full power...
His foot slipped.
It's not about slipping on sweat. It's an extremely subtle sense of despair that only the most elite professional athletes can experience... the feeling of exerting force with "emptiness" when the brain issues an absolute command, but the extremely fatigued muscles can no longer provide enough support.
The ball didn't slip from his grasp; Gary Payton managed to maintain his balance.
But that fleeting breakthrough rhythm was broken.
The Spurs ' rotation defense quickly and successfully covered the gap.
With only nine seconds left in the twenty-four-second shot clock, the shot clock has expired.
Gary Payton was surrounded and forced to throw the ball a long pass to Horry was lurking in the bottom corner.
Large open space.
This time, Horry didn't hesitate at all. His eyes expertly darted to the upper right, instantly locking onto that dark gray, sharp angle. He jumped, and shot. The form was perfect, the arc perfect.
The basketball spun one and a half times around the rim.
Then, it popped out.
David Robinson leaped high and secured the invaluable defensive rebound.
That was Boston's last chance to win that night.
With twenty seconds left, Pierce desperately tried to drive to the basket, only to be swatted out of bounds by Tim Duncan along with the ball.
The final whistle blows.
87 to 85.
The San Antonio Spurs won Game 3.
The score is now 1-2.
The post-match statistics sheet was sent to the away team's locker room by the assistant coach, but almost no one went to get it.
First half: Field goal percentage 31%.
Second half: Field goal percentage 51%.
Boston outscored their opponents by 13 points in the second half.
That fatal 15-point hole was something they were forced to dig themselves into before they even understood the nature of the arena. And by the time they found their shooting anchor and struggled to climb out of the hole, they had almost exhausted all their strength.
The players walked silently toward the player tunnel. Mutombo was at the very back of the line.
In the post-game hallway, head coach Doc Rivers leaned wearily against the wall, clutching a crumpled statistics sheet in his hand.
When Lin Qi walked over, Doc Rivers handed him the paper and gave a wry smile.
Lin Qi took the statistics sheet, but didn't even glance at it, just stood there silently. His mind was filled with the memory of Gary Payton slipping in the last three minutes of the fourth quarter.
It was a 30-year-old core guard who, after nearly 40 minutes of intense fighting, gave his body a most helpless protest on a concrete floor.
Continuing to struggle on that unsupported floor is like drinking poison to quench thirst; it will only cause the hidden risks of injury to accumulate exponentially.
But Lin Qi knew very well that in the NBA Finals, when he was down 1-2, there were no options of "retreating" or "resting".
" Doc," Lin Qi finally spoke, his voice so low only the two of them could hear, "Add another set of targeted lower limb decompression therapy and ice packs tomorrow."
Doc Rivers didn't even lift his head; he simply closed his eyes wearily and gave a soft reply.