March 28, Charlotte, Spectrum Center.
The Celtics will play the Charlotte Hornets on the road.
This was a match where the teams were vastly mismatched on paper.
But the variable occurs in the third section.
Rasheed Wallace was posting up the opponent's inside when the referee suddenly blew his whistle, calling an offensive foul on Rasheed.
"What the f**k!" Rasheed erupted in fury, roaring at the referee, "Which eye of yours saw me push him?!"
"Beep..."
The referee did not hesitate to issue a technical foul.
Rasheed's eyes turned red; the pent-up anger surged forth. He wanted to rush forward to argue, but Doc Rivers quickly ran from the sidelines and grabbed him around the waist. "Calm down! Rasheed! Shut up!"
Rasheed shoved Doc Rivers ' hand away, pointed at the referee's nose, and yelled, "Are you fucking blind?!"
"Beep..."
Second technical foul. Immediate ejection.
Rasheed was forcibly dragged back to the locker room by several assistant coaches, who cursed him all the way.
Although the Celtics ultimately won the game 108-98 thanks to their deep roster, Rasheed's emotional issues, which were like a ticking time bomb, were once again brought to the forefront.
The conference room at Charlotte's hotel after the game.
Only Lin Qi and Rasheed were in the room. The atmosphere was so oppressive it was suffocating.
Lin Qi sat across the table, coldly staring at the angry man before him.
"That's your 38th technical foul this season." Lin Qi slammed his fingers on the table, the dull thuds like heavy hammer blows. "38 times! Rasheed, are you trying to break some Guinness World Records in Boston? You've already been suspended for two games this season, do you want to miss the playoffs?!"
"That idiot who blew the whistle is completely blind!" Rasheed retorted, still seething with indignation. "I didn't lift a finger! They're targeting me!"
"I don't care if that referee is blind or not, and I don't care if they're targeting you!" Lin Qi's voice suddenly rose. "What I care about is whether you can control your mind on this damn field!"
Rasheed paused, his chest heaving, and fell silent.
"I know you're a fighter at heart, and I know you hate those guys in black and white stripes," Lin Qi stared into his eyes, "But your role right now is that of the absolute core of this team's second unit, the only offensive hub in the paint off the bench! If you lose control of your emotions and get ejected in the high-stakes playoffs, you'll be destroying this team's championship with your own hands!"
Rasheed raised his head, his lips moved, but he didn't say anything.
"You absolutely have the ability to be an All-Star, and you absolutely deserve this year's Sixth Man of the Year." Lin Qi's tone softened slightly, but it was still full of power. "But first, you have to prove you can play tough games. You want to prove to the whole league that you're a tough guy? Then let it go by dunking the ball! Don't waste your precious energy arguing with a bunch of whistle-wielding idiots!"
Rasheed took a deep breath, the rage in his eyes gradually fading. He remained silent for a full half minute before finally nodding heavily.
"I see."
"Control your temper." Lin Qi stood up. "Save your anger for the basket, for the opposing big men. Boston needs you in the playoffs."
Rasheed stood up, walked to the door, and paused as he pulled on the doorknob.
Thanks, Lin.
Watching Rasheed disappear at the end of the corridor, Lin Qi lit a cigarette.
Expecting Rasheed to control his temper? That's pure self-deception. It's as ridiculous as expecting a loaded gun not to misfire.
Lin Qi took a deep drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke swirl in his lungs before slowly exhaling. Since he couldn't control the players' mouths, he could only try to address the problem from another source.
In this business alliance, no one is a true saint. Are those high-ranking judges, who hold the power of life and death, truly without any weaknesses in private? Gambling, debt, even some unspeakable little quirks... as long as the price is right, there is no corner in this world that cannot be pried open.
Lin Qi looked at the flickering embers in the ashtray and gave a cold laugh.
We need to think of a way to "get to know" these referees better.
April 1, Boston, private office.
The Nasdaq Index closed at 3,650 points.
Lin Qi's paper profits have exceeded $550 million.
He sat in a large leather chair, a copy of today's the Wall Street Journal lying on the table. The headline on the front page was printed in bold, large letters.
Nasdaq Crash: Technical Correction or Bubble Burst?
The article extensively quotes the views of mainstream Wall Street institutions, with the vast majority of analysts confidently predicting that the Nasdaq will stabilize around 3500 points and quickly launch a retaliatory rebound, potentially returning to its peak of 5000 points by the end of the year. Only a very few fringe institutions have issued faint warnings, suggesting that this may be a harbinger of the bursting of the dot-com bubble.
Looking at the report, Lin Qi sneered.
The secure phone rang again. It was David.
"Mr. Lin, have you seen today's news?" David's voice was more urgent than last week. "All the analysts at Goldman Sachs, Merrill Lynch, and Morgan Stanley are bullish. A large amount of bargain-hunting money has already started entering the market, and many hedge funds have reversed their positions and gone long. Our current profits are at risk of being wiped out at any time."
"Let them go long," Lin Qi said with an eerily calm tone. "We'll continue shorting."
"But Mr. Lin..."
" David," Lin Qi interrupted him, "I know what you're worried about. But remember my words: those suited elites who are praising the newspapers today will regret every word they put on paper two years from now."
David fell into a long silence on the other end of the phone. "... Okay, the funds are yours, you call the shots. But if there really is a rebound, the pressure to make up the margin calls will be terrifying, you have to be mentally prepared."
"There won't be a rebound." After saying that, Lin Qi hung up the phone.
He stood up and looked down at the city. In this era dominated by greed and blind optimism, everyone firmly believed that the internet could make stocks rise endlessly. But as a time traveler, he knew clearly that those tech companies that had no profit model, relied entirely on PowerPoint presentations and storytelling to raise funds, and barely maintained their operations through equity pledging, would soon vanish like bubbles under the scorching sun.
April 5, Boston, CEO's office.
Lin Qi held a copy of the Los Angeles Times in his hand; the headline on the front page was exceptionally eye-catching.
OK Duo: Golden Partners or Locker Room Time Bombs?
The article, citing anonymous sources, details a heated argument that erupted between Kobe and O'Neal during a recent practice. Kobe accused O'Neal of a lack of discipline and a lax attitude during the offseason; while O'Neal countered that Kobe played too selfishly and was only concerned with scoring points. Phil Jackson attempted mediation multiple times, but with little success.
"Interesting." Lin Qi flicked the newspaper.
Doc Rivers knocked and came in, glanced at the headline in the newspaper, and couldn't help but laugh, "These Los Angeles guys haven't even touched the championship trophy yet, and they're already fighting over who's the boss."
"This is certainly good news for us," Lin Qi said, putting down his newspaper. "But don't underestimate them. Even with internal strife, O'Neal's dominance in the paint and Kobe's scoring ability are still historic."
"So what's our strategy?"
"Focus on ourselves." Lin Qi's gaze was sharp. "Unity, focus, execution. As long as Boston doesn't make mistakes, the cracks in Los Angeles will eventually become the last straw that breaks the camel's back."
April 19th, the final day of the regular season.
The Boston Celtics visited the Washington Wizards. Lin Qi rested many of his starters, and the starting lineup, consisting of Billups, Harper, Artest, Rasheed, and Big Ben, along with a group of young players including Bowen, still easily crushed their opponents 109-98.
Artest displayed suffocating pressure and frenzied physicality in defending the Wizards ' perimeter during garbage time.
As the final whistle blew, the regular season officially came to a close.
The Boston Celtics finished with a record of 65 wins and 17 losses, ranking first in the Eastern Conference and first in the entire league.
The playoffs, a battle of fierce competition, have finally arrived.
April 20, Boston, Lin Qi's office.
On the computer screen, ESPN is broadcasting the final regular season standings and playoff matchups.
Top eight in the Eastern Conference.
First, the Boston Celtics, with a record of 65 wins and 17 losses.
Second, the Indiana Pacers, 56 wins and 26 losses.
Third, the Miami Heat, with a record of 52 wins and 30 losses.
Fourth, the New York Knicks, with a record of 50 wins and 32 losses.
Fifth, the Charlotte Hornets, with a record of 49 wins and 33 losses.
Sixth, the Philadelphia 76ers, with a record of 48 wins and 34 losses.
Seventh, Toronto Raptors, 45 wins and 37 losses.
8th, Detroit Pistons, 42 wins and 40 losses.
Top eight in the Western Conference.
First, the Los Angeles Lakers, with a record of 63 wins and 19 losses.
Second, the Portland Trail Blazers, 59 wins and 23 losses.
Third, the Utah Jazz, with a record of 55 wins and 27 losses.
Fourth, the San Antonio Spurs, with a record of 53 wins and 29 losses.
Fifth, the Phoenix Suns, with a record of 52 wins and 30 losses.
Sixth, the Seattle SuperSonics, with a record of 45 wins and 37 losses.
7th, Sacramento Kings, 44 wins and 38 losses.
8th, Dallas Mavericks, 42 wins and 40 losses.
First round playoff matchups.
Eastern Conference:
① Celtics vs ⑧ Pistons
Pacers vs Raptors
③ Heat vs ⑥ Philadelphia 76ers
④ Knicks vs ⑤ Hornets
Western Conference:
① Lakers vs ⑧ Mavericks
② Trail Blazers vs ⑦ Sacramento Kings
③ Utah Jazz vs ⑥ Seattle SuperSonics
④ Spurs vs ⑤ Suns
Lin Qi turned off the TV and opened another file.
That was a summary of the team's players' season statistics, internal documents compiled by the assistant coaching staff...