Post-match press conference, Staples Center.
The Los Angeles Lakers ' press conference hall was packed. Phil Jackson, O'Neal, and Kobe sat side by side behind a long table, greeted by a barrage of flashing lights.
" Shaq, congratulations on an epic game! 42 points and 18 rebounds, that's a dominant performance. Leading the team on a comeback, how do you feel?" a reporter from the Los Angeles Times asked first.
O'Neal grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his bald head, grinning widely, but his heavy breathing still betrayed his extreme exhaustion.
"I told you before, I am MDE (Most Dominant Ever)," O'Neal's voice echoed through the microphone. "We were down 0-2 in the NBA Finals, this was a must-win game. I told everyone before the game, give me that damn ball, I'll destroy Boston's paint and solve everything."
"But in the fourth quarter, when your energy levels hit a plateau, it was Kobe who took over the game. Can you talk about your teamwork tonight?" an ESPN reporter immediately followed up with the question.
O'Neal's smile faded slightly, and he glanced at Kobe beside him.
" Kobe did a great job tonight." O'Neal raised an eyebrow. "He made those easy open shots when I was drawing three defenders and exhausted. That's what you call inside-outside play, right?"
Kobe nodded slightly, his young face showing little elation at winning, only a sense of indifference.
" Kobe, you scored 27 points and had 9 assists tonight. Especially your consecutive isolation plays in the fourth quarter completely sealed the game. Many people believe that you ended Boston's comeback. Can you share your thoughts?"
Kobe leaned slightly forward, closer to the microphone, his voice calm and confident.
" Shaq drew a lot of defense inside, which definitely gave me space to shoot. But in those crucial possessions of the fourth quarter, I saw the gaps in their defense. When the team needed someone to put that damn ball in the basket to close out the game, I just stood there and made the shot. It was that simple."
Phil Jackson frowned slightly. As a master psychologist, he was all too familiar with the hidden sharpness in the two men's words... Shaq was emphasizing his dominance and his ability to draw double teams, while Kobe was emphasizing his killer instinct to close out games.
"Coach Phil, the score is now 1-2. What are your thoughts on the upcoming fourth game?"
" Boston is an extremely tenacious team," Jackson took a deep breath, regaining Zen Master composure, "But tonight, we proved that as long as the Lakers stay focused, this is an impregnable fortress."
"One last question, Shaq. You pushed yourself for a full 45 minutes tonight, which is a huge strain on your 300-plus pounds. Can your stamina hold up for the high-intensity competition the night after tomorrow?"
O'Neal scoffed dismissively, "I'm Shaquille O'Neal O'Neal. Superman doesn't need rest. I can play 48 minutes!"
The away team's press conference room is separated by only one wall.
The atmosphere seemed to freeze. Doc Rivers, Garnett, and Gary Payton sat on the stage, their faces ashen.
"Coach Doc, you suffered a devastating blow in the paint tonight. Mutombo and Big Ben both got into foul trouble, Brad Miller even bled on the court. Were you really helpless against Shaq's insane 42 points?"
Doc Rivers rubbed his temples and sighed. " Shaq had an incredible performance tonight. We tried one-on-one defense, double-teaming, fronting... we got everything right tactically, but he still beat us. That's what superstars are like... There are always some guys who just can't be guarded on certain nights, aren't there?"
" Kevin, you had 24 points, 12 rebounds, and 7 assists tonight, but it was all in vain. What are your thoughts on this loss?"
Garnett stared at the reporter who asked the question, his eyes flashing with a fierce, savage light. "We let him score 42 points in our paint, it's a fucking disgrace! But don't forget, we're still up 2-1! Let's see how we do next game!"
The Celtics' locker room.
After the press conference ended, Lin Qi pushed open the door to the locker room.
Mutombo had a towel draped over his head and his eyes closed in pain. Brad Miller's eye socket was covered with thick gauze; he had just had stitches. Wang Zhizhi was receiving ice packs from the team doctor; a large, horrifying bruise was imprinted on his chest.
Lin Qi walked to the center of the locker room and looked around at the exhausted players.
"Listen up, guys." Lin Qi's voice wasn't loud, but it instantly drew everyone's attention. "We lost tonight, a crushing defeat. But it was expected. This is Staples, and you're up against the Big Shark."
" Shaq had what might be the most dominant game of his career tonight: 42 points and 18 rebounds."
But Lin Qi's tone shifted, a hint of mocking sneer in his voice, "However, Kobe Brian also played exceptionally well tonight. 27 points, 9 assists. More importantly, in the fourth quarter, when Shaq was so exhausted he could barely move his legs, it was Kobe who killed the suspense with those damn fadeaway jumpers."
Lin Qi turned around and wrote two huge names on the tactical board with Mark: [ Shaq ] and [ Kobe ].
"So, I have a question for everyone," Lin Qi said, pointing to the blackboard, "Who do you think was the biggest contributor to the Lakers ' victory tonight?"
Everyone was stunned, not understanding what Lin Qi was planning.
Lin Qi put down Mark marker, placed his hands on the table, and his gaze was as sharp as a hawk's. " Shaq believes that he was the one who destroyed our proud defensive system, and that he is the absolute MVP. But Kobe believes that Shaq only did the hard work; the real killer who ended the suspense and delivered the fatal blow was himself."
"On the basketball court, winning can cover everything. But in this city of spotlight and Hollywood vanity, there are two extremely power-hungry megalomaniacs. And the throne of Los Angeles can only hold one person."
Assistant coach Thibodeau suddenly looked up, a look of horrified realization flashing in his eyes. He understood what Lin Qi was planning!
"The media are always bloodthirsty flies." Lin Qi's lips curled into a smile. "Tomorrow morning, the whole country will be talking about this great victory. What we need to do is pour a bucket of gasoline into this fire. Let the media argue about who deserves the MVP, and let the Los Angeles fans take sides."
Lin Qi looked at the group of players who had forgotten their frustration and said, word by word.
"When the OK Duo starts vying for headlines in post-game interviews, their on-court coordination falters. And that's our chance!"
"Get some rest and recharge. We'll be here to witness their collapse from within!"
June 12, Los Angeles.
The next morning, before the city had even recovered from the victory celebrations, the entire American media was in an uproar. A media storm about "who is the savior" was sweeping across the country at an alarming speed, fueled by certain individuals.
front-page column of the Los Angeles Times -- Beal Plaschke.
The Big Shark's Night of Reign! He's the One and Only King of Los Angeles!
"42 points, 18 rebounds, 10-for-12 from the free-throw line. Shaquille O'Neal O'Neal proved to the world that as long as he's in the paint, he's God! Boston tried four centers, paying the price of one injured player and two fouled out, but they still couldn't stop this bulldozer in the paint. Without Shaq's relentless domination in the first three quarters, the Lakers would have been swept out of the game long ago. Without a doubt, he's the only MVP tonight."
However, on Hoop forums and in some sports newspapers, completely different voices are spreading rapidly.
The Black Mamba's Cold-Blooded Redemption: The physically exhausted Shark needs to thank Kobe.
"The statistics can't capture the suffocating feeling of the fourth quarter. When Boston fielded their decisive lineup, when Shaq was panting heavily on the court, who stepped up to take over the game? It was Kobe! 12 points in that quarter, each one deadly. Without Kobe's finishing touches, Shaq's 42 points in the first three quarters would have been nothing but a blunder! The Lakers ' future has been handed to this young man!"
The Jim Rome Show, the largest sports radio station in the United States.
"Guys, we have to talk about last night's game! Shaq played like a monster, no doubt about it! But did you notice Kobe's eyes in the fourth quarter? It was a killer instinct of 'Give me the damn ball, I'm the boss!' If I were Shaq, I absolutely couldn't stand that young guy stealing my thunder!"
The vortex of public opinion, under deliberate manipulation, has been amplified to an extreme degree.
10:00 AM, Los Angeles Lakers training facility.
The atmosphere was eerily unsettling.
O'Neal, his knees wrapped in thick ice packs, slumped on a physiotherapy chair on the sidelines. He had played 45 minutes last night, and his physical strength was severely depleted; he even canceled shooting practice today.
On the other half of the court, Kobe was sweating profusely as he practiced various difficult fadeaway jump shots. The crisp sound of each basketball swishing through the net was particularly jarring in the empty arena.
Several local Los Angeles reporters covering the team were allowed into the arena to take photos.
" Kobe," a reporter shouted, "Everyone's saying your fourth-quarter isolation play saved an exhausted Shaq. Do you think you could have led the team to victory against Boston if Shaq had only played 30 minutes last night?"
Kobe stopped what he was doing, glanced at Shaquille O'Neal who was resting with his eyes closed in the distance, and his eyes were cold.
"I don't need to save anyone, my job is to close out games. If the team needs me to step up, I'll score. As for who the MVP is, I don't care about those stupid headlines."
On the physiotherapy chair not far away, O'Neal suddenly opened his eyes. Although Kobe said he didn't care, Kobe's arrogant tone of "I'll finish" deeply hurt the pride of this dominant center.
"Hey kid," O'Neal shoved the physical therapist's hand aside and sneered in the reporter's direction, "Without me inside taking elbows from four or five guys, do you think you could be shooting those comfortable open shots on the outside? Figure out who the ' Big Diesel ' of this team is!"
Kobe didn't retort, only gave O'Neal a cold look before turning around and continuing to shoot. But each time he slammed the ball, the force was noticeably greater than before.
Meanwhile, in a luxury hotel suite in Beverly Hills, Los Angeles.
Lin Qi stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, holding a glass of iced water, overlooking the sun-drenched City of Angels. His phone was on speakerphone, resting on the mahogany desk.
"Boss." Jeff, the team's public relations director, spoke through the phone, his voice brimming with barely concealed excitement. " Jim Rom and a few big-mouthed columnists from the West Coast are already on the scene. The 'Who's the boss in the OK Duo?' topic is the hottest topic in all the media right now. Lakers fans themselves are practically arguing about it."
"Well done, Jeff." Lin Qi took a sip of ice water, a confident smile playing on his lips. "Don't stop. Keep feeding a few more gossip outlets some juicy stories, saying that Kobe's team is extremely unhappy with Shaq's dominance of the ball."
"But boss..." Jeff hesitated, "Can this kind of media campaign really affect the outcome of the NBA Finals? After all, they are two superstars."
"Superstars are human too, and humans have weaknesses, and their biggest weakness is 'ego'."