The air inside the training hall was stuffy and dry, with only the sharp, mournful screech of sneakers rubbing against the wooden floor echoing in the empty space.
Lin Qi didn't give a lengthy pre-game pep talk. In this training facility far exceeding the standards of the times, he went straight to the Celtics' most suffocating and brutal specialized scrimmage of the entire summer training camp... "Core ball handler's extreme escape and defensive pressure test."
The rules are extremely clear: Pierce receives the ball at the top of the key each round and must complete his shot within eight seconds. Four teams of defenders each guard five possessions, and after a dead ball situation, the assistant coach immediately retrieves the ball from the sidelines. There are no breaks between teams. Making a shot does not mean passing, and turnovers and exceeding the time limit will not end the training. The coaching staff records his finishing efficiency, turnover rate, and degree of motion distortion under accumulated fatigue. The highest intensity of competition is maintained throughout, with no substitutions to buffer the time.
The first to step forward was Bruce Bowen.
In the current league, Bowen has yet to achieve his later defensive reputation, but his almost pathological defensive focus has already begun to shine. He doesn't have top-tier speed or explosive jumping ability, but his advantages lie entirely in his excellent wingspan, stable defensive center of gravity, and almost textbook-perfect lateral slide.
Bowen kept his center of gravity extremely low, like a ruler firmly attached to the floor by a magnet. He didn't blindly rush for the ball; instead, his hands constantly adjusted their position according to Pierce's dribbling rhythm. Using the side of his body and a stable defensive center of gravity, he consistently blocked Pierce's usual driving routes, forcing Pierce to make changes.
In five consecutive high-intensity rounds of competition, Pierce managed to pull up for a few pull-up jumpers using a rhythmic pause technique he'd gleaned from Bodiroga during private training in Europe. However, facing Bowen's impenetrable defense, he only made 2 of 5 shots in the first five rounds, including one time exceeding the time limit. Bowen showed no emotional fluctuations after landing, expressionlessly retreating from the contact area like a tireless defensive machine.
Without any respite, the defensive players completed their rotation in an instant.
Raja Bell and Stephen Jackson pressed forward from the left and right respectively. This was a special test without designated receiving points, specifically designed to examine ball protection and forced finishes in extreme spaces.
Bell is sturdy with a solid back and extremely stable lower body. As soon as he closes in on Pierce, he immediately uses a quick slide to gain half a body length, blocking the starting angle. With continuous torso contact, he blocks Pierce's forward depth, forcing the drive into a lateral dribble. On the other side, Jackson uses his long wingspan and wing size to cover the space. His long arms are always positioned at the edge of Pierce's passing lane and vision, not rushing to steal the ball, but using his size to force Pierce to slow down.
Within the cramped, encircling space, Pierce's dribbling and viewing angles were severely compressed. Bell used his excellent lateral movement to continuously apply pressure from the front, while Jackson delayed and double-teamed him from the side. The two's defensive coordination cut off Pierce's vision, leaving him with only a sliver of room to drop the ball and turn.
Pierce didn't force his way in. He used his left shoulder to shield Bell, protecting the ball on his right side, and then smoothly stepped back and spun around, decisively avoiding Jackson's long arm that was covering him. Before the two could slide and close in again, he forced his way into the free-throw line, using his body to create a little space, and tossed the ball toward the basket with one hand.
After five rounds, facing a two-on-one disadvantage, Pierce made frequent mistakes and only scored one goal. However, after the intense competition, there was no tension on the court. The three players, panting heavily, retreated, and this head-to-head offense and defense revealed an unspoken understanding.
In the third round, the fourth defender, Eddie Jones, stepped up.
With top-tier wing size and an exceptionally long wingspan, Jones plays more like a strategist in chess. He doesn't rely on intense physical contact for close-quarters combat, but rather maintains a full field of vision at a half-step distance, using his long arms to cover the space for penetration, and constantly using subtle adjustments to his center of gravity to lure Pierce into making unnecessary movements.
In five rounds of play, Jones displayed the qualities of an "elegant hunter" to the fullest. He forced Pierce into hasty shots twice, and even made a clean steal during a crossover dribble. Until the final play, Pierce, nearly losing the ball, took a step forward and used his body to block Jones, narrowly catching the ball just before it rolled out of bounds. With only a little over a second left on the clock, he deftly flicked the ball towards the basket with one hand for a buzzer-beating basket.
The continuous high-intensity competition left Pierce's legs feeling heavy, large beads of sweat dripping from his chin onto the floor, and his breathing heavy and labored.
The protagonist of the final level, Ron Artest, ripped off his training vest, revealing a body of thick, solid muscles.
Artest is 2.01 meters tall and his weight is approaching that of some light centers, but his lateral quickness is still at the wing level. His skills are never flashy, but he can perfectly blend footwork, hand penetration, and power pressure into the same confrontation. He uses his chest to withstand Pierce's force, while his forearm is always close to the side of his opponent's torso, sensing every turn.
Artest's eyes were bloodshot, and he was breathing heavily as he stared intently at the panting Pierce, his eyes filled with a beastly greed.
Just as Artest tightened his shoelaces and grinned, ready to lock down his opponent, Lin Qi strolled leisurely past the sidelines with one hand in his pocket.
In the instant he brushed past Artest, Lin Qi didn't stop. He turned his head, his voice low but clear, penetrating the young man's eardrums.
"If you can keep Pierce from scoring a single goal, you'll be the starting small forward for the new season."
Artest's pupils contracted sharply, and his heart pounded violently in his chest. The word "starting position" held an irresistible and fatal allure for this ambitious and ruthless man who desperately wanted to prove himself.
"Lin, you said it yourself!" Artest growled, his muscles tensing and bulging. "Watch me tear him apart!"
In the first four possessions, Artest gradually increased the intensity of the competition, forcing Pierce to miss two shots and be forced to wait until the clock reached zero, barely managing to score one basket. The assistant coach picked up the ball and immediately returned it to the top of the key.
The final round saw a sudden shift in momentum.
Faced with Artest's tank-like, terrifying pressure, Pierce's dribbling skills began to falter due to extreme fatigue.
"Come on, Chris Paul! Let everyone see just how good you are as a starter!" Artest grinned as he closely guarded Pierce, using his chest to absorb the contact, his forearm always pressed against Pierce's side.
Pierce lowered his center of gravity, stepped out with his left foot, and simultaneously shifted his shoulder to the left. Artest wasn't completely fooled, but he still instinctively blocked the breakthrough line.
Just as Artest shifted his weight to the left, Pierce dropped the ball with his right hand, cutting from the right side of the arc towards the free-throw line. Artest quickly moved laterally to block, Pierce immediately switched to his left hand behind his back, smoothly stopping to the left to collect the ball.
Artest lunged back from his right rear, his hand almost blocking Pierce's view. Instead of forcing a standard jump shot, Pierce used his right shoulder and back to create space for the block, drifting to his left with the resistance and sending the ball high toward the backboard.
"Snap."
The basketball grazed the top corner of the rim and spun into the net.
Pierce braced himself on his knees, panting heavily, sweat staining the floor, but his eyes burned with an unyielding ruthlessness.
Artest stood there, and although Pierce had finished him off with a difficult shot, the fierce glint in his eyes didn't die down; instead, it burned even brighter. He grabbed the basketball that had fallen to the ground, slammed it hard onto the floor, and grinned at Pierce.
"That was awesome! You won't score that kind of goal again in the team scrimmage this afternoon!"
Watching this scene from the sidelines, Lin Qi nodded slightly.
This is just the ultimate stress test in terms of ball-handling and finishing. In the full training plan to follow, the coaching staff has also prepared baseline double-teaming, high elbow zone encirclement, and specific training for different tactical systems.
For this Celtics team determined to rebuild their dynasty, the real hellish ordeal has only just begun.