Staples Center Los Angeles. June 11, 6:30 p. m.
As the Boston Celtics ' team bus slowly drove into the arena's underground tunnel, Lin Qi looked through the dark-tinted, shatterproof windows and saw the already frenzied Los Angeles fans outside.
The streets were completely blocked by a dense crowd, and purple and gold flags fluttered in the setting sun. Countless signs reading "Beat Boston" and "Go back to the East Coast" were held high. As the bus passed by, there was an overwhelming barrage of middle fingers, boos, and curses; the suffocating hostility could be felt even through the soundproof glass.
"Welcome to Hell." Thibodeau, sitting in the row in front of Lin Qi, looked out the window and uttered a cold sentence.
Lin Qi knew that tonight's Staples would be a true battleground. Trailing 0-2, the Purple and Gold Legion had been pushed to the brink of despair. In the history of this sport, never underestimate the heart of a champion, and never underestimate a raging shark driven to the brink, ready to tear everything apart.
7:30 PM, away team locker room.
The air was so heavy it seemed to have frozen.
Gary Payton sat silently in front of his locker, tightening his shoelaces. Eddie Jones, wearing huge headphones, closed his eyes to rest. In the corner, Kevin Garnett swayed his tall frame and muttered to himself, like a trapped beast about to explode.
"Slap! Slap!"
Doc Rivers walked to the center of the locker room and clapped his hands twice, breaking the silence.
"Listen, guys," his voice was deep but carried a penetrating force, "Tonight we're facing a wounded beast. The home fans will drive them to attack us like mad dogs."
"But don't forget... we're here with a 2-0 lead. The initiative is in our hands." Doc Rivers's gaze swept over the entire team. "Tonight, forget about the championship trophy, forget all other thoughts. Execute the plan on defense, and be patient on offense."
"If we win, we have match point on their turf. If we lose, the pressure is still on them. So..."
Before he could finish speaking, Garnett slammed his fist on the locker, making the metal door vibrate. He stood up abruptly, his eyes bloodshot, his voice a battle roar torn from the depths of his chest.
"Celtics!! Hurrah!!"
"Hurrah!!!!"
The entire team erupted in unison, their killing intent surging forth as if it were tangible.
The players' entrance ceremony will take place at 8 PM.
As the players from both teams filed out, the 20,000 fans at Staples Center erupted in a terrifying roar that seemed capable of lifting the dome off the building.
"Let's go Lakers!!"
In a sea of purple and gold, O'Neal pounded his broad chest, surveying the area as if inspecting his territory. Kobe, on the other hand, chewed gum expressionlessly.
In stark contrast, the Celtics were met with a deafening chorus of boos as they entered the arena.
Lin Qi sat behind the away team's bench, watching everything with a blank expression.
The match begins.
Mutombo and O'Neal jumped at the same time, and O'Neal tipped the ball back to half-court.
The Lakers ' first possession.
As soon as Fisher dribbled the ball past half-court, the entire 20,000 -Staples crowd immediately stood up.
Inside the penalty area, O'Neal lowered his stance deeply, reaching out for the ball. Mutombo tried his best to get in front of him. Fisher attempted a high lob, but his pass was a bit too far out. O'Neal was forced to step out more than half a step before he could barely catch the ball.
This slightly poor pass gave Mutombo invaluable time to adjust.
Mutombo immediately seized this fleeting opportunity, quickly lowering his center of gravity and precisely positioning his forearm against O'Neal's lower back, instantly completing a textbook-perfect defensive stance.
Seeing this, Doc Rivers on the sidelines breathed a slight sigh of relief. In the league, facing Mutombo was already fully positioned, any inside player's only option was to pass the ball out again.
But tonight, O'Neal had no intention of reasoning at all.
Catch the ball, drop your shoulder, and power up for a back-to-the-basket shot!
"Bang!" The dull thud of the first physical collision. Mutombo, who was fully prepared and in an absolutely advantageous defensive position, let out a muffled groan, his feet actually scraping against the floor as he was forced back half a step!
"Bang!" With a second burst of force, Mutombo's previously impenetrable defensive balance was completely disrupted, and he was crushed directly under the rim by this inhuman force!
Seeing the situation was not good, Garnett on the weak side immediately abandoned his defender and rushed over to help defend. But O'Neal did not hesitate at all. With only a fraction of a second left before the double team closed in, he let out a furious roar and, with pure brute force, rose up over Mutombo!
"Clang!!!"
A powerful, heavy two-handed dunk! The entire basketball hoop shook and groaned violently!
2-0! The entire stadium erupted! The chants of "MVP" shook the earth!
On the NBC commentary desk, Isaiah Thomas gasped, "My God... Shaq is playing like this right from the start?! Dikembe looks like a plastic toy next to him!"
But this was only the beginning of a nightmare.
In the first quarter, Staples became Shaquille O'Neal O'Neal's personal slaughterhouse.
Facing Mutombo's defense, he used unstoppable spin hook shots and back-to-the-basket moves to dominate. When Mutombo was forced to leave the game after committing two fouls in just four minutes, Ben Wallace, who replaced him, had excellent lower body strength, but Big Ben defense was equally ineffective in the face of the absolute gap in height and weight.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Ben Wallace gritted his teeth as O'Neal relentlessly pushed him into the deep end, then watched helplessly as his opponent spun around and dunked, committing a foul in the process.
What made the Celtics even more desperate was that tonight, O'Neal not only destroyed the paint, but his free throws were also incredibly accurate!
At the end of the first quarter, the Lakers led 28-20, an 8-point advantage.
O'Neal racked up 16 points and 5 rebounds in a single quarter, making all four of his free throws!
In the second quarter, when the Celtics tried to limit the behemoth with extreme double-teaming, Kobe Brian revealed his sharp fangs.
He no longer battled Gary Payton on the strong side like he did in the previous two games, but instead moved like a venomous snake, constantly weaving in and out on the weak side. Once O'Neal was double-teamed in the paint, Kobe's assists and three-pointers would precisely pierce the heart of Boston.
Kobe on the perimeter, Shaq on the inside – this duo, one of the most dominant in history, delivered the perfect inside-outside game in a desperate situation!
At halftime, the Lakers led 53-44, going into the locker room with a 9-point advantage.
On the halftime stat sheet, O'Neal's numbers were breathtaking... 24 points, 8 rebounds, and a perfect 6-for-6 from the free-throw line! Kobe had 13 points and 5 assists!
The away team's locker room was deathly silent.
The players filed in, a sense of frustration filling the air.
Garnett slammed the towel to the floor, panting heavily. Pierce leaned against the wardrobe, his eyes somewhat glazed over.
Meanwhile, Mutombo, the multiple Defensive Player of the Year who made his name through defense, slumped in a corner. He was wrapped in ice packs, his head buried deep under a thick white towel, his broad shoulders trembling slightly.
He played less than 10 minutes in the first half, had three fouls, and was completely overwhelmed on the defensive end. Tonight, he felt an unprecedented sense of powerlessness.
" Dikembe."
A calm voice sounded overhead. Mutombo looked up and saw that Lin Qi had squatted down in front of him at some point.
"Lin, I..." Mutombo's voice was terribly hoarse, filled with deep self-reproach, "I couldn't stop that monster."
"This isn't your fault, Dikembe." Lin Qi looked him straight in the eye, his tone extremely firm. "Tonight, even if you combined prime Russell and Wilt Chamberlain, they couldn't hold their own against Shaq."
Mutombo fell silent, his eyes dimming.
Lin Qi stood up, patted him on the shoulder, and then looked around the entire locker room.
"Guys, lift your heads." Lin Qi's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a calming magic. "We're only down by 9 points. Shaq scored 24 points in the first half, but that can't last four quarters; his stamina will eventually reach its limit."
However, there is often an extremely cruel gap between ideals and reality.