April 25, 2000, Boston, New Garden.
In Game 2 of the first round of the playoffs, the Celtics hosted the Detroit Pistons.
An hour before the match, Lin Qi, as usual, went to the technical table and picked up the official list of referees.
His fingers paused slightly as his gaze swept over the referee's name.
Referee: Tim Donaghy.
Assistant referees: Joe Ford, Bennett Salvatore.
Lin Qi stared at the letters " Tim Donaghy," a cold glint in his eyes. He put the roster back in its place, turned and walked toward the home team's locker room, his steps a beat faster than usual.
In the locker room, the players were doing their final warm-up and stretching.
Lin Qi pushed open the door and walked in, looked around, and went straight to Rasheed Wallace, who was sitting in the corner.
" Rasheed, come here for a second."
Rasheed put down the training ball he was holding and walked over to Lin Qi.
Lin Qi pulled him behind the tactical board in the locker room and lowered his voice. "The referee tonight is Tim Donaghy."
Rasheed's face visibly darkened, and he gritted his teeth. "That troublemaking bastard?"
"Listen, control your temper tonight." Lin Qi looked Rasheed straight in the eye, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "No matter what that bastard brags about, no matter what he says in your ear, you can't argue with him. Not even shrug or complain, understand?"
Rasheed took a deep breath, his chest heaving. "Understood."
"He'll definitely try to provoke you tonight," Lin Qi patted his broad shoulder. "But remember, this is the playoffs. If you get ejected... or even suspended, we'll be in big trouble."
"I'll keep my mouth shut, Lin." Rasheed nodded emphatically.
Lin Qi turned and left the locker room. He walked to the players' tunnel, lit a cigarette, and looked at the stands gradually filling up with spectators. The roar of 20,000 people gathered in the arena, deafeningly loud.
Lin Qi exhaled a puff of bluish-gray smoke.
"Let me see what you're planning to do tonight," he muttered to himself.
The competition officially began at 8 PM.
In the opening tip-off, Garnett once again used his terrifying speed to defeat the Pistons center and pass the ball to Gary Payton.
The Celtics ' first set offense. Gary Payton dribbled the ball up the court, directed the movement at the top of the key, and then passed the ball to Pierce on the right wing. Pierce received the ball, faked a shot, and then pulled up for a mid-range jumper.
"Whoosh!"
2:0.
Possession changes, Pistons attack.
Stackhouse drove hard down the left flank with the ball, and Gary Payton immediately stuck to him like glue. The two made only the slightest contact at the three-point line, Stackhouse stumbled.
"Beep..."
The whistle blew sharply. Donaghy pointed at Gary Payton without hesitation. "Defensive foul! Blocking!"
Gary Payton paused, then instinctively spread his arms wide. "Are you kidding me? I didn't even extend my hand!"
Donaghy walked over with a cold expression, his tone mechanical and forceful. "That was a foul. Do you have any objections?"
"That level of contact wouldn't even kill a fly!" Gary Payton frowned.
Donaghy did not respond, nor did he even glance at him; he turned and walked directly to the technical table, gesturing with his hands.
Gary Payton gritted his teeth, shook his head, and retreated to his defensive position.
Lin Qi sat courtside, legs crossed, his gaze cold and stern. The call was very difficult, extremely rare in the playoffs where physicality is encouraged. But that wasn't enough to draw conclusions; Donaghy was a smart referee, he wouldn't make things too ugly from the start.
Five minutes into the first quarter, Garnett got into deep position in the low post and backed down Pistons center Clifford Robinson. Garnett lowered his center of gravity, used his back to shield his opponent, and then executed an extremely smooth baseline spin, flicking the ball into the basket with one hand.
The ball went in. But the whistle blew almost simultaneously.
"Beep..."
Donaghy pointed his big finger at Garnett: "Attacking foul! Goal disallowed!"
Garnett whirled around, staring wide-eyed at Donaghy: "Where did I push you? That was just a normal back-turn and momentum!"
"I saw it clearly." Donaghy looked at him expressionlessly. "You used your shoulder to push past the defender before you turned. Possession changed hands."
Garnett took a deep breath, his cheek muscles twitching slightly from clenching his teeth, but he ultimately didn't continue arguing and turned to run back to the backcourt.
With two minutes remaining in the first quarter, Pistons' Stackhouse drove into the paint. Mutombo had already positioned himself, arms raised high, his body perfectly vertical like a wall, without any unnecessary downward movement. Stackhouse collided with Mutombo, forced a layup, and the ball bounced off the rim.
"Beep..."
Donaghy's whistle blew eerily for the third time. "Defensive foul! Two free throws!"
Mutombo spread his huge hands, looking completely bewildered. "Referee, I didn't move an inch."
The first quarter ended. The Celtics Pistons 24-26, down by 2 points.
Throughout the first quarter, the Celtics were called for a total of 6 fouls, while the Pistons, who mainly attack the paint, were called for only 2.
Lin Qi sat on the sidelines, his expression unchanged, but the coldness in his eyes grew stronger.
Doc Rivers walked over, gritting his teeth in a low voice, "The whistles are so inconsistent, they're disrupting our defensive rhythm. The referee is targeting us."
"I know." Lin Qi didn't even turn his head, his gaze still fixed on Donaghy on the field. "Remind the players to clean up their hands and not to argue."
Rasheed Wallace came on as a substitute in the second quarter.
The real test has begun.
Rasheed had been on the court for less than a minute when Pistons backup forward drove to the basket. Rasheed quickly moved to the side and used his chest to block the forward's path. The two engaged in a solid physical confrontation.
"Beep--"
Donaghy immediately blew his whistle. "Defensive foul! Blocking!"
Rasheed's neck stiffened abruptly, and he turned to stare intently at Donaghy, his facial muscles instantly tensing. But remembering Lin Qi's pre-match warning, he swallowed the curse that was on the tip of his tongue, simply irritably waving his hand and turning away.
Lin Qi nodded slightly on the sidelines. Rasheed held back.
Two more minutes passed.
Rasheed set a screen for Billups beyond the three-point line, his footwork clean and precise, without moving an inch. The Pistons defender lost his balance and fell to the ground as he squeezed through the screen.
"Beep..."
Donaghy's whistle blared. "Offensive foul! Illegal screen, moving pick and roll!"
Rasheed was completely stunned. He pointed to the floor beneath his feet. "I didn't move at all! My feet didn't move an inch!"
"Do you have any objections?" Donaghy asked in a cold tone, with an unquestionable arrogance.
"Come on..." Rasheed said hoarsely, barely containing his anger. "Watch the replay. I definitely didn't do anything."
Donaghy suddenly turned around, staring defiantly at Rasheed was over two meters tall, and coldly retorted, "Are you questioning my ruling?"
Rasheed took a deep breath, his chest heaving. He closed his eyes and shook his head vigorously. "It's nothing."
Donaghy sneered and ran away.
Lin Qi sat on the sidelines, his fingers tapping lightly on his knees. He could see clearly that Rasheed's screen was completely legal, without even a millimeter of movement. Donaghy was trying to force Rasheed to lose control with the worst possible call.
There are 3 minutes left in the second quarter.
Rasheed received the pass in the corner, faked a shot to get past his defender, and then dribbled straight to the basket. The Pistons ' interior player chased from the side and back, and just as Rasheed jumped, he made a very subtle move to hit Rasheed hard in the waist.
Rasheed lost his balance in mid-air, but used his powerful core strength to forcefully slam the ball onto the backboard, and the ball stumbled and fell into the net.
Rasheed landed and went out of bounds, but he immediately got up and looked at Donaghy.
The whistle did not sound.
"Wasn't that a foul? He bumped into my waist!" Rasheed spread his arms, his voice already laced with obvious hostility.
"I didn't see any foul." Donaghy said expressionlessly.
"He fucking almost knocked me into the stands!" Rasheed roared, taking a step forward.
Donaghy stared at him defiantly. "I said I didn't see it, and I meant it. This is a warning. If you talk to me like that again, I'll call a technical foul!"
Rasheed's eyes reddened, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white from the force. He stared at Donaghy's expressionless face, Lin Qi's words replaying in his mind. Finally, he abruptly stopped and turned to run back to the backfield.
At halftime, thanks to their superior individual skills, the Celtics narrowly rallied to take a 2-point lead, 52-50.
But the statistics are glaringly obvious: the Celtics committed 14 fouls in the first half, Pistons only committed 7. Their free throw attempts were also a staggering 8 to 19.