Indianapolis, the tactical conference room of the Celtics ' hotel. The projector's cooling fan hummed, and a suffocating, oppressive atmosphere filled the air.
Since the start of the playoffs, this Boston Celtics has been on a winning streak, unstoppable... 3-0 in the first round, 4-0 in the second round, and crushing the first two games of the Eastern Conference Finals. Their nine-game winning streak in the playoffs has given the entire team and even the Boston media the illusion that this exceptionally talented Celtics is invincible.
Until the third game, the lean 35-year-old veteran delivered a miraculous 42-point performance, slapping everyone awake like a powerful blow.
Head coach Doc Rivers stood in front of the clipboard, analyzing the video of the previous game frame by frame with a laser pointer. On the projection screen, the image of Reggie Miller hitting a fadeaway jumper under the double-team of Jones and Harper was played repeatedly.
"Look here, our rotation was a half-step slow." Doc Rivers tapped the clipboard. "And look at this play, Eddie ( Jones ) was pinned out by the screen, and Ron ( Harper )'s help defense wasn't there..."
The tactical analysis lasted for twenty minutes. Garnett leaned back in his chair, his long fingers tapping his knees impatiently. Pierce crossed his arms, his lips pursed. Even the usually arrogant and trash-talking " The Glove " Gary Payton was now silent, his head bowed.
After Doc Rivers finished explaining the tactical details, he glanced at Lin Qi sitting in the last row. Lin Qi nodded slightly, got up, and walked to the tactics board.
The atmosphere in the conference room suddenly changed.
"I know what you're thinking," Lin Qi's deep voice broke the silence. "You're thinking, we're younger, faster, and more talented, so why were we beaten by a 35-year-old veteran?"
The conference room was completely silent.
"Because in the playoffs, winning or losing is never simply about adding up talent and statistics. You all know very well that basketball isn't like that." Lin Qi's voice suddenly sharpened. "A nine-game winning streak won't guarantee a tenth win, and your opponents won't just hand over victory because you're young and impetuous. Reggie Miller taught you a lesson in one game... In true adversity, a person's inherent fighting spirit and their relentless hunger for victory are enough to overcome all assumptions."
Lin Qi paused, his gaze turning cold and aggressive. "But his age is a factor. He scored 42 points in the last game, which is already his last gasp. Tonight, the only thing we need to do is drag the game into a quagmire, use an endless war of attrition against him, and see how long his old legs can last."
Garnett suddenly raised his head, his indomitable eyes rekindling his fighting spirit.
Lin Qi turned to Doc Rivers: " Doc ( Doc Rivers ), you're in charge of arranging the specifics of the game."
Doc Rivers nodded, strode to the whiteboard, uncapped Mark marker, and slammed it down twice. "Listen, our core offensive strategy tonight is... pick-and-roll, force them to switch, and specifically target Reggie Miller!"
A thick Mark drew sharp arcs on the whiteboard. " Kevin ( Garnett ), Dikembe ( Mutombo ), your job is to provide the highest quality screens and block the defenders solidly. Chris Paul ( Pierce ), Gary ( Gary Payton ), Eddie ( Jones ), once Miller is forced to switch onto any of you, don't hesitate, just go for it!"
"What if they refuse to switch defenses and prefer to double-team or go around screens?" Pierce asked sharply, staring at the tactical board.
Doc Rivers scoffed, "Even better if you don't switch. Then we'll just use the space created by the screen to attack the basket. In short, we're going to force Miller to make a choice on the defensive end... Either he switches and gets blown out one-on-one by you, or he just watches us score. Either way... the advantage is in our hands."
The dome of Conseco Fieldhouse seemed about to be lifted by the massive roar. The moment Reggie Miller ran out of the player tunnel, 20,000 fans in yellow T-shirts stood up and roared "Reggie! Reggie!" deafeningly.
The opening whistle blew, and the Pacers their first attack.
Mark Jackson dribbled the ball at the top of the key, Miller, like a tireless ghost, sprinted along the baseline from the left corner. Using Dale Davis's solid back as cover, he created space on the right wing. Eddie Jones stuck to him like glue, even subtly placing his hand on Miller's waist.
But Miller didn't even look at the defender. The moment he received the ball, he incredibly exerted force with his ankle, took an extremely quick step back, leaned his body backward in the air, and flicked his wrist gently.
"Whoosh!"
The basketball swished through the net, making it 3-0.
Jones gritted his teeth in frustration. Miller turned to defend, a signature smirk playing on his lips. "Didn't have any nightmares last night, Eddie?"
The next five minutes were practically a replay of Game 3. Miller drained a three-pointer from the top of the key after a double screen, received the ball on the right wing, faked a shot, and pulled up for a jumper. He even received the ball in the left corner with his back to the basket and completed a difficult turnaround fadeaway. The Celtics' prized perimeter defense was riddled with holes in the face of the veteran's insane firepower.
At the end of the first quarter, Miller had scored 11 points, and the Pacers led 26-21.
However, Lin Qi, sitting on the visiting team's bench, was unusually calm. He even picked up his paper cup and took a sip of water. He turned his head and whispered to head coach Doc Rivers, "Look at his breathing rate, it's faster than last game."
Doc Rivers nodded and immediately adjusted the rotation strategy.
At the start of the second quarter, the Celtics officially launched their strategy of extreme attrition.
In the first possession, Pierce had the ball at the top of the key, and Garnett moved up from the free-throw line to set a screen. That solid screen firmly blocked Miller's defender, Jones. The Pacers ' defense was briefly thrown into disarray, Rose hesitated for a fraction of a second: should he switch or not?
In those crucial fractions of a second, Pierce had already initiated his attack using a screen. Rose was forced to delay, and Miller had no choice but to grit his teeth and switch onto Pierce.
Pierce smirked. Facing the noticeably slender Miller, he didn't bother with any fancy techniques. He simply lowered his shoulders and crushed Miller with his weight. Miller struggled to resist, his feet scraping the floor with a screeching sound, but the absolute difference in strength pushed him away uncontrollably.
Pierce drove to the free-throw line, faced Dale Davis who was helping on defense, and calmly sank a pull-up jumper.
After landing, Pierce turned to look at Miller, who was panting heavily, and pounded his chest.
In the next possession, the Celtics came back strong. Gary Payton directed the offense from the right wing, while Mutombo moved heavily out from the paint, setting up an even stronger screen for him beyond the three-point line. Mark Jackson was completely shut down, and Miller was forced to switch on defense again.
A flicker of excitement flashed in Gary Payton's shrewd eyes. Facing Reggie Miller, he didn't even bother with a probing step, instead launching into a powerful change of direction and acceleration.
Miller moved laterally with all his might, but the speed difference was too obvious. Gary Payton had already quickly entered the paint, and facing the recovering Smits, he rose up and used his signature big hands to lob the ball high, the basketball grazing the backboard and going in.
Pacers head coach Larry Bird was furious on the sidelines, yelling at the players on the court, "No substitutions! Go around and chase them!"
In the next possession, Jones had the ball on the left wing, and Garnett once again stepped up to set a screen. This time, the Pacers learned their lesson and resolutely refused to switch. Miller tried his best to get around the screen to chase him down, but his slender frame was solidly blocked by Garnett's broad shoulders.
But it was too late. Jones had a full meter of space, calmly jumped, and flicked his wrist.
"Whoosh!"
Three-pointer goes in.
Larry Bird slammed his hand on the whiteboard on the sidelines. This was an unsolvable dilemma... If they switched, Miller would be mismatched and exploited one-on-one. If they didn't switch, the ball handler would simply use the space to score. Either way, it was disadvantageous for the Pacers.
Even more lethal tactics were yet to come. The Celtics began to accelerate at breakneck speed, unleashing suffocating offensive and defensive transitions. Mutombo grabbed a defensive rebound and immediately made a long pass to Gary Payton. Gary Payton surged forward, and Miller gritted his teeth and chased back with all his might.
But just as he reached halfway, Jones received a pass from Gary Payton and completed a powerful two-handed dunk.
Miller bent over, hands on his knees, panting heavily. Sweat dripped from his chin onto the floor, his chest heaving violently.
In one possession, Miller had just hit a difficult fadeaway jumper on the right wing and hadn't even had time to celebrate when Mutombo quickly inbounded the ball to Gary Payton from the baseline. Miller quickly turned back to defend, but when he reached the three-point line, the soreness in his legs noticeably slowed his pace by half a beat.
Pierce received a pass on the fast break, and facing Miller, who was staggering back on defense, he used a simple acceleration and change of direction to easily get past the panting veteran and score a layup.
At halftime, the Celtics had quietly taken a 2-point lead, 52-50. Miller still boasted a dazzling 18 points at halftime, but as he walked toward the player tunnel, his legs appeared noticeably heavy, and his steps had completely lost the lightness he displayed at the start of the game.
In the home team's locker room, Larry Bird Larry Bird leaned against the doorframe, silently watching Miller slumped in his chair. He wanted to go over and say, " Reggie, rest for a few minutes in the second half, save your energy for the fourth quarter..." But he swallowed the words back halfway through. As a fellow great shooter, Larry Bird understood all too well that kind of ingrained obsession...
As expected, with two minutes left in the second half, Miller stood up, supporting himself on his knees. His voice was hoarse but unusually firm. " Larry Bird, with this kind of setup, we won't make it to the fourth quarter. You know that yourself... Don't worry, I can hold on."
At the start of the third quarter, Miller kept the game alive with an incredible three-pointer. He received the ball a step and a half from the three-point line, and Jones and Harper both rushed in, forming an impenetrable double team. Miller took off.
The basketball arced high into the air, and as the timer flashed red, it crashed into the net!
The roof of Conseco Fieldhouse was almost shattered by the sound.
But on the sidelines, Lin Qi's eyes narrowed slightly as he keenly caught a crucial detail: Miller's right leg staggered uncontrollably when he landed.