December 26, 2000.
The Boston Globe featured a high-resolution image of Chris Paul Pierce's buzzer-beating game-winner on its front page. ESPN's SportsCenter repeatedly played footage of him sinking a three-point play despite being double-teamed. Even the usually critical Barkley unusually changed his tune in the TNT studio. "41 points, a game-winning shot on the road. This kid's got the real deal, and so is Boston."
Despite the overwhelming praise from the outside world, the training hall and physiotherapy room were filled with the hum of the operating equipment.
Ben Wallace lay shirtless on the treatment bed, thick ice packs wrapped around his knees. His back, shoulders, and chest were covered with red marks and bruises from the physical contact they had taken the previous night... This was the price he paid for carrying O'Neal for a full 40 minutes.
"Your right knee and hamstring muscles are extremely tight." The team doctor pressed on Big Ben's lower back, his brow furrowed. "You pushed your body beyond its limits last night."
On the next bed, Garnett wasn't in much better shape. To help defend O'Neal in the paint, he had done far more shuttle runs and jumps than usual last night. He had cramped his calves three times and was now wearing a muscle relaxer, exhausted with his eyes closed.
Lin Qi stood at the door of the physiotherapy room, holding the race schedule in his hand.
"We're playing the Mavericks tomorrow," head coach Rick Carlisle said in a low voice as he walked over. "The team bus will be at the airport in half an hour."
Lin Qi looked at the two key inside players on the physiotherapy table and fell silent.
Last night's victory came at a high price. Although O'Neal lost the game, he used his sheer weight and strength to completely drain the Celtics' interior players' energy reserves. And tomorrow, they will have to fly to Dallas without enough rest to face a well-rested Nowitzki and Mutombo.
"I can fight." Big Ben sat up, supporting himself on the edge of the bed, his voice a little hoarse.
Lin Qi didn't say anything, but simply patted him on the shoulder.
Their winning streak might end in Dallas.
December 26, Dallas, United States Airlines Center.
When the Celtics players stepped off the bus, their fatigue was palpable. The long flight and the intense Western Conference tour had left them lacking energy even in their pre-game warm-up shots.
In the players' tunnel, Big Ben ran into Mutombo.
"Good evening, Ben." Mutombo walked over and hugged his former teammate.
But in that instant of the embrace, Mutombo keenly sensed Big Ben Wallace's stiffness. As a veteran center who had battled in the paint for over a decade, he knew all too well what this state meant.
"Carrying Shaq must be tough, right?" Mutombo asked in a low voice.
"Not bad, he's not dead." Big Ben grinned.
Mutombo patted Big Ben on the back and said nothing more. He admired the young man's toughness, but tonight was the game. Strike while the iron is hot—that's the cruel law of competitive sports.
The match begins.
The Celtics ' heaviness was immediately apparent in the first second of the jump ball. Garnett jumped a fraction too late, and the Mavericks tipped the ball away.
Returning to the defensive end, the Celtics' prized switch-everything defense couldn't keep up with the pace at all. Nowitzki received the ball at the top of the key, Garnett instinctively tried to lunge out to contest, but his sore thigh muscles slowed his lateral movement by half a step.
Nowitzki didn't miss that half-step distance, pulling up for his signature face-up shot.
"Whoosh."
Gary Payton then attempted a fast break, but his stamina waned, significantly reducing his speed, and he was forced to stop by the Mavericks ' retreating defense just past half-court.
Once the battle turned into positional warfare, trouble began.
Big Ben tried to box out for the ball in the paint, but Mutombo held his defensive position firmly. Having had his core strength drained by O'Neal last night, Big Ben was completely unable to overpower the rested Mutombo in today's matchup.
What's even more crucial is that Mutombo knows this team all too well.
"Cut to the corner! Watch the left side!" Mutombo shouted instructions to the Mavericks ' defense from inside the paint.
Pierce was about to use a screen to drive into the paint when Mutombo's long arms were already blocking his path. "Bang!" Mutombo delivered a solid block, swatting the ball away, and then wagged his signature finger.
In the first quarter, Nowitzki scored 14 points. Garnett couldn't defend him, not because of his defensive habits, but because he simply couldn't keep up with him. Meanwhile, Mutombo controlled the paint, recording 3 blocks in the first quarter.
The Mavericks led by 12 points at the end of the first quarter, 34-22.
In the second quarter, Pierce stepped up.
He used changes in rhythm and mid-range pull-ups to keep the score close, scoring 19 points in the first half. But this couldn't change the overall course of the game. Without solid defense and rebounding, scoring alone couldn't close the gap.
Big Ben couldn't jump high enough today, greatly reducing his rim protection. Mavericks guards even dared to challenge his defense directly for layups. Mutombo also frequently grabbed offensive rebounds.
Whenever the Celtics' shot hit the front end, a typical sign of exhaustion, Mutombo would calmly grab the rebound and pass the ball to Nash to initiate a fast break.
At halftime, the score was 62-48, with the point difference widening to 14 points.
Halftime, away team locker room.
There were no scribblings on the tactics board, nor any loud speeches. The only sound in the locker room was heavy breathing.
Lin Qi looked at the ice pack re-attached to Big Ben's knee and at Garnett constantly massaging his calves. He knew very well that tactics couldn't compensate for physical limits. O'Neal had used up all their energy for today's workout last night.
"Listen, brothers," Lin Qi said, placing his hands on the table. "I know your legs are heavy. We fought a tough battle in Los Angeles last night, so today's exertion is inevitable."
He looked around at the exhausted players.
"In the second half, protect yourselves. Don't force yourself to play for those easy shots that could lead to injury. Chase if you can, but it's okay if you can't," Lin Qi said calmly. "We've already won 27 games."
Second half.
The Celtics fought hard, but their defense remained riddled with holes.
Pierce scored another 12 points in the third quarter. But with five minutes left in the fourth quarter, the turning point of the game arrived.
The Dallas Mavericks missed their shot, and Big Ben and Mutombo jumped simultaneously to grab the rebound. Just as Big Ben landed with force, his right knee buckled, and he lost his balance and fell to the floor.
Big Ben clutched his knee, his forehead covered in sweat. It wasn't a serious injury, but rather a complete breakdown of his leg muscles.
Rick Carlisle immediately called a timeout and substituted Big Ben off the field.
When Big Ben Wallace limped back to the bench and slumped into a chair, the game was effectively over.
Without their defensive anchor in the paint, the Celtics ' interior defense completely crumbled, and the point difference quickly widened to over 20 points.
The final whistle blows.
Dallas Mavericks 108:91 Boston Celtics.
The 27-game winning streak has come to an end.
Dallas fans cheered inside the arena.
This team lost due to fatigue from the Christmas Day game. Although O'Neal lost last night, his extremely brutal physical exertion indirectly ended the Celtics ' winning streak.
After the game, Mutombo walked through the crowd to the Celtics ' bench.
He looked at Big Ben, who was icing his knee, and raised his fist.
"Get some rest, Ben," Mutombo said. "Come play me after you've finished with Shaq. You can still hold your own for 30 minutes. You're tough."
Big Ben gave a weary smirk, then bumped fists with his former teammate. "Next time we play, I won't let you grab the rebounds so easily."
Not far away, Pierce draped a towel over his shoulder, glanced up at the scoreboard, and calmly put his face down. The burden of the winning streak was finally lifted.
"Let's go." Garnett dragged his heavy steps over and patted Pierce on the back.
"Okay." Pierce nodded. "Next game, we'll start from 1 win and 0 losses."