The halftime break ended, and the two sides switched sides to resume the game.
At the start of the third quarter, the atmosphere at Staples Center was ignited once again. Phil Jackson decisively exploited the Celtics ' weakness: Dikembe Mutombo's foul trouble.
Every half-court setup by the Lakers was strictly centered around Shaquille O'Neal O'Neal. Kobe and Fisher spread out in a triangle on the strong side, Peja led the defenders down to the weak side, Jermaine O'Neal stood on the free-throw line extension, ready to receive a high lob pass from behind.
Just three minutes into the third quarter, O'Neal secured a deep position in the low post, executed a powerful back turn that pushed past Mutombo, and slammed the ball into the basket with one hand, drawing a foul in the process.
"Beep--"
This was Mutombo's fourth foul of the game.
Doc Rivers immediately made an adjustment, replacing Mutombo with Ben Wallace. Big Ben is at a significant height disadvantage, and once Shaq receives the ball near the Crash area, it's difficult for him to contest the shot. Therefore, Big Ben's defensive strategy is clear: hold off Shaq's lower body, relentlessly front him, and increase Shaq's energy expenditure for each positioning and receiving of the ball.
Garnett constantly moved between the weak-side baseline and the edge of the paint. Whenever O'Neal called for the ball, he would immediately collapse towards the basket to form a double team. Once the ball was passed out, he would use his amazing mobility to quickly retreat back to the weak side where Peja or O'Neal Jr. were.
This strategy couldn't completely stop a prime O'Neal, but it forced the Lakers to rely more on perimeter passing and weak-side shooting to complete their offense.
Phil Jackson countered the move by positioning Peja in the weak-side corner to contain Garnett's collapse.
On the next possession, Peja used O'Neal Jr.'s screen to quickly circle out to the three-point line. Eddie Jones reacted quickly, squeezing through the screen and reaching out to contest Peja's shot.
"Beep--"
The referee's whistle blew abruptly. A defensive foul! Not only would the three-pointer go in, but a free throw would also be awarded.
On the sidelines, Lin Qi looked at the baseline referee, his brow slightly furrowed. It was just an extremely ordinary physical contact, but amidst the frenzied cheers of Los Angeles, the Staples Center's "home-court whistle" was clearly starting to kick in at a crucial moment.
This was Eddie Jones ' fourth foul of the game.
Lin Qi turned to head coach Doc Rivers and shook his head helplessly. " Eddie has too many fouls. The Doc Rivers are very strict with their calls now. We can't risk keeping him on the court any longer."
" Bruce," Doc Rivers called to Bowen at the end of the bench, tapping on the whiteboard, "Go and replace Eddie. Keep Ron with Kobe. You go after that Europe."
"The referees were very strict with defensive actions tonight. So, when he uses a screen, don't reach out to push him; keep an eye on his waist and use your torso to block his position. It's better to let him cut into the paint than to let him get open for a three-pointer."
Bowen nodded and walked onto the court without saying a word.
For the remainder of the game, Bowen relentlessly clung to Peja and was extremely adept at avoiding the referees' gaze.
Every time Peja tried to use a screen to get out, Bowen would forcefully squeeze past the inside of the screen, his shoulder hitting Peja's ribs, while his left hand made a subtle movement in the referee's absolute blind spot.
Peja received the ball, but his feet often failed to maintain their original rhythm. He could have jumped directly after a screen, but now he needed to dribble once more to adjust.
Those few seconds of hesitation slowed down the Lakers ' transitions between strong and weak sides, giving Garnett enough time to reposition and double-team Shaq. The Celtics dragged the game into a quagmire.
The Celtics dragged the game into a war of attrition.
In the fourth quarter, the confrontation escalated further.
Kobe reduced his outside jump shots and began to frequently attack the paint using screens. Facing Kobe's drives, Big Ben positioned himself early in the paint and, before Kobe lost his balance, firmly grabbed his waist with both arms, stopping him with the ball and Kobe.
We'd rather let them serve than give them a chance to score from open play.
There were no unnecessary actions, nor were there any opportunities for "two plus one".
With two and a half minutes remaining in the game, the score was tied at 99. At this nail-biting juncture, an unexpected event occurred that made everyone gasp in shock.
The Lakers were on offense. Kobe had the ball at the right 45-degree angle and tried to force his way past Artest. The two fell to the ground simultaneously during the intense physical contact, and the basketball slipped from his hands, rolling rapidly towards the stands on the sidelines.
The referee did not blow the whistle, signaling for the game to continue.
Kobe was still struggling to get up on the floor, while Artest had already scrambled to his feet and sprinted towards the sideline at full speed. To save the ball that was about to go out of bounds, his massive body leaped into the air at the sideline, flying almost parallel to the floor.
He swung his long arm through the air and forcefully deflected the ball back onto the court, where it fell into the hands of the sprinting Gary Payton.
But Artest himself completely lost his balance.
His weight was already slightly heavier than that of a typical forward, and the immense momentum from his full-speed sprint caused him to leap over the advertising boards next to the scorer's table and crash heavily into the first row of the stands.
"Boom--"
With screams and the sound of chairs collapsing, chaos erupted in the front row. Drinks and popcorn scattered in mid-air and littered the floor.
Artest crashed right into the fat fan who had been yelling the loudest in the first quarter and mocking him as an "appliance salesman."
For a brief moment, the entire Staples Center fell silent.
Everyone's hearts were in their throats. Security guards rushed over from all directions, and the Lakers ' commentator even exclaimed in the live broadcast, "Was he doing this on purpose?!"
Clearly, some people believe that this rookie used the excuse of saving the ball to teach a lesson to the rude fan.
The chubby fan was pressed into his chair by Artest's heavy body, popcorn smeared all over his face. He stared in horror at the face so close to his own, his whole body stiff, too scared to even breathe.
However, the anticipated conflict did not occur.
Artest braced himself against the back of the chair and slowly stood up. He merely glanced down at the still trembling fat man with a blank expression, then reached out and patted the popcorn crumbs off his shoulder.
"Make way."
Artest uttered two words in a hoarse voice, then pushed aside the overturned chair next to him, stepped over the advertising boards, and ran back onto the court to join the defense as if nothing had happened.
The air in the Staples Center seemed to freeze for two or three seconds before erupting into a tremendous roar again.
The fat fan slumped into his chair, his legs trembling. Only at this moment did the pampered spectators in the front row truly realize the terrifying physical abilities of these players running on the wooden floor.
This unexpected save made the atmosphere on the field even more tense.
With 36 seconds remaining in the game, the scoreboard read: 101 to 100. The Celtics led by one point.
Lakers have possession. Kobe receives the pass on the right wing.
He took two consecutive jab steps, patiently using screens to create half a body length of space, then stopped abruptly at the free-throw line, facing Artest's defense, and leaned extremely backward in the air.
"Whoosh!"
A difficult mid-range shot, swishing through the net.
102-101. Lakers take the lead. 16 seconds left.
A deafening roar erupted from Staples Center. But Lin Qi on the sidelines didn't call a timeout. The instant Kobe scored, he made a downward gesture to Gary Payton: "Inbound the ball quickly! Don't give Phil Jackson time to bring in the defensive lineup."
Gary Payton understood immediately and quickly dribbled across half-court. Garnett forced his way into position at the free-throw line, backing down Jermaine O'Neal, and after a series of probing moves, turned and shot.
"When!"
The basketball bounced off the side of the rim.
Just as the Lakers fans were about to celebrate, the situation in the paint suddenly changed. Big Ben used his body to firmly block O'Neal's path as he tried to retreat and steal the ball.
Kobe turned his head to find where the rebound would land, briefly taking his eyes off his opponent.
In that half-second gap, Artest suddenly started moving from behind Kobe. He accurately judged the landing point, took off before everyone else, and lightly tapped the ground with his fingertips.
The basketball grazed the backboard and fell into the net. At the same time, A.C. Green's arm, which was helping to defend, hit his wrist.
"Beep..."
The goal stands, another penalty is awarded.
Artest landed, his body swaying slightly. He wiped the sweat from his brow, ignored the boos around him, stepped to the free-throw line, and calmly sank the ball.
The score is 104 to 102. There are 11.4 seconds left on the clock.
Phil Jackson called the Lakers ' final timeout.
The atmosphere in the entire arena was extremely tense. The timeout ended, and both teams returned to the court.
The whistle blows. The Lakers inbound the ball from the sideline.
Kobe used O'Neal's massive frame as a screen and quickly cut inside. But the Celtics ' defensive rotations were airtight. Big Ben had a brief delay, and Garnett's long arms directly blocked the lob pass to O'Neal.
The Lakers ' tactics were disrupted, with only 4 seconds left on the clock.
The ball was near the sideline and was barely passed back to Kobe. There was no time to find a teammate or provide a screen.
Kobe lowered his center of gravity and made two extremely realistic Buddhist-style feints in an attempt to trick Artest into shifting his weight.
But the 19-year-old stood firmly on his feet, completely still.
With two seconds left on the countdown, Kobe had no choice but to step back, forcefully jump from the corner of the sideline, and launch an extremely difficult drifting three-pointer.
Just as Kobe's feet left the ground and the basketball was raised above his shoulders, Artest moved.
He leaped into the air, his long arms fully extended, and one hand precisely sliced the bottom edge of the basketball.
The basketball slipped from Kobe's grasp and plummeted to the ground. Both players simultaneously lunged at the floor, scrambling for the ball.
The moment my fingers touched the rough skin...
"Buzz--"
The red light at the edge of the backboard lit up, and the final buzzer sounded. The game ended amidst a scramble for the ball on the ground.
The Celtics won 104-102 on the road.
A long silence fell over Staples Center. The spectators on the sidelines stared at the court in disbelief, seemingly unable to accept that the Lakers ' game-winning shot hadn't even touched the rim.
Inside the arena, the Celtics players embraced. Garnett looked up and shouted, Big Ben Wallace pounded his chest.
As the hero of the winning defense, Artest slowly stood up from the floor. He was soaked in sweat, his chest heaving, but he didn't join in the celebration. He wiped his face and dragged his heavy steps toward the players' tunnel.
He stopped when he reached the first row of the audience.
The chubby fan, who had just been pinned down and was now sitting blankly in the chair, instinctively shrank back, popcorn still scattered at his feet.
Artest looked down at him.
At this moment, the media's mockery and the home crowd's boos vanished in the face of this victory. Artest spoke slowly in a voice loud enough for those around him to hear.
Your Christmas present has arrived.
The chubby fan wearing O'Neal jersey opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
Artest slightly raised his chin, turned and walked towards the players' tunnel, leaving Los Angeles with a broad silhouette.
You're welcome, no discounts.