On February 9, on a chartered plane bound for Washington, D.C..
The cabin was quiet; there was none of the expected jubilation surrounding the five players being selected for the All-Star game.
Gary Payton sat in a large leather chair, flipping through the Washington Post in his hands. The front page featured a group photo of the five of them.
"Listen up, guys." Gary Payton tossed the newspaper onto the table, glanced around the cabin, and adopted a veteran's air. "Once we get to Washington, drop that naive air you're carrying. Don't go to those shady parties, don't let those sponsors and media fool you. Remember, we're a team aiming for a three-peat. We're just going there to make a appearance, not to be clowns."
"You're right, Gary," Rasheed Wallace, wearing oversized headphones and with his eyes closed, chimed in. "I hate the All-Star game. Smiling at a bunch of reporters who know absolutely nothing about basketball is more tiring than having to guard Shaq in the low post."
Sitting in the back row, Ben Wallace nodded in deep agreement. Making him walk the red carpet in a suit was worse than death for him. Big Ben glanced at his thick arms and sighed, "If it weren't for the league's requirement, I'd rather stay in the weight room in Boston."
Chris Paul Pierce leaned against the window, gazing silently at the clouds outside. His mind was filled with the news of Kobe's 42-point performance at the United Center the previous night.
As for Kevin Garnett?
The All-Star vote leader is currently staring at a portable DVD screen showing the Celtics' upcoming opponent after All-Star Weekend...
Chicago Bulls ' tactics video.
"KG," Gary Payton couldn't help but kick Garnett's chair, "This weekend is for you to relax, turn off that damn videotape."
"No way, Gary." Garnett didn't even look up, pressed the pause button, and pointed at Kobe on the screen. "Look at this guy's offensive skills, he's improved since he was with the Lakers. We're going to Chicago right after the All-Star Game, and I need to figure out how to help defend him."
Gary Payton rolled his eyes in exasperation. There was simply no way to communicate with this basketball fanatic.
February 10, MCI Center, Washington, D. C., All-Star Media Day.
When the five Celtics players, dressed in matching Eastern All-Stars warm-up uniforms, walked into the media room in unison, the entire arena fell silent for a moment.
Then came a series of flashes and a microphone being handed to him.
More than half of the reporters ignored the other star players and surrounded the five Celtics like Shark smelling blood.
" Chris Paul! You beat Vince Carter to the starting lineup on your first selection. How much of your vote do you think was due to Shaq's 'The Truth' comment?" A New York reporter shoved a recorder almost into Pierce's face, asking an extremely pointed question.
Pierce's eyes remained calm, without a trace of unease. " Shaq is a great center, but he doesn't count the votes. Fans voted for me because I can sink that damn basketball, and my team is number one in the league. It's that simple."
On the other side, Rasheed and Big Ben were almost annoyed by the questions.
"Ben, facing the Western Conference's formidable frontcourt, do you think the Eastern Conference has a chance?"
"This is an exhibition game, man," Big Ben said expressionlessly. "If they want to do a dunk, I won't foul them. But I promise, if the ball hits the rim, the rebound is mine."
Right at the center of the storm was Garnett, the top vote-getter.
"KG, Eddie Jones, whom you traded away, has also made the All-Star team. Add to that Grant Hill, who's out this season, and theoretically you have a chance to form Celtics with seven All-Stars—the most luxurious lineup in history. People are saying that if you don't win your third consecutive championship this year, it's a complete failure. Do you think that's fair?"
Garnett sneered, leaning forward slightly, his gaze piercingly fixed on the reporter. "Fairness? There's no such thing as fairness in competitive sports. I don't care what others say, all I know is that we're not only the target of the entire league, but also the material for their nightmares. You want to see us fail? You'd better pray this weekend never ends, because when the regular season resumes, I'll give it my all on the court."
Not far away, at the entrance to the Eastern Conference Locker Room, Allen Iverson leaned against the wall, watching the Celtics' five-man lineup surrounded by reporters.
Iverson chewed his gum, his eyes gleaming with an untamed light.
"These Boston guys, they've got a big entourage," Vince Carter muttered quietly next to Iverson.
"Let them enjoy it, Vince," Iverson said coldly, turning and walking back to the locker room.
February 11th, NBA All-Star Game.
This was an extremely rare All-Star Game, full of real, hard-fought competition.
In the first three quarters, the Western Conference's formidable frontcourt displayed absolute dominance. Kidd's playmaking allowed O'Neal, Tim Duncan, and Webber to score at will in the paint. The Western Conference once led by as many as 21 points.
The fans on the sidelines were completely engrossed, but the atmosphere on the Eastern Conference bench was icy cold.
With nine minutes remaining in the fourth quarter, Eastern Conference head coach Larry Bird Brown, his face grim, stared at the trailing score on the scoreboard, his gaze sweeping over the bench.
He made a decision to replace him.
" Gary ( Gary Payton ), Kobe, Chris Paul ( Pierce ), KG, Big Ben, you five, get out there!" Brown didn't give any specific tactics, just one sentence. "Raise the defensive intensity! This is the All-Star Game, but it's also a game. Don't let those guys in the Western Conference make a fool of us!"
The timeout ended, and the five players from the Eastern Conference returned to the court.
Western Conference roster: Kidd, Eddie Jones, Michael Finley, Tim Duncan, O'Neal.
The real contest begins from this moment.
Gary Payton began to press Kidd relentlessly throughout the game. But inside the penalty area, the dynamics shifted dramatically.
When O'Neal called for the ball in the low post, he was shocked to find that the person standing behind him was not the Eastern Conference center who was just pretending, but Ben Wallace with his legs bent and his lower body pressed against him.
On his flank, Garnett spread his terrifying wingspan, ready to collapse and double-team at any moment.
"What the hell?" O'Neal cursed. " Big Ben, this is the All-Star Game, what the hell are you doing, boxing out positions?"
"The show's over, Shaq." Big Ben's muscles were tense, showing no sign of backing down.
Kidd lobbed the ball to O'Neal, O'Neal turned and spun, Big Ben took a step against him. Just as O'Neal was about to force a hook shot, Garnett's help defense arrived, his long arm slicing through O'Neal's wrist and swatting the ball out of bounds.
"Defense!!!" Garnett pounded the floor on the All-Star court, roaring at Big Ben Wallace, his eyes burning with NBA Finals- level fighting spirit.
The reporters on the sidelines were stunned.
"My God, is Garnett playing in the NBA Finals?"
The defense fueled the offense. The next half of the quarter became the stage for Garnett and Kobe.
Kobe scored consecutive points on isolation plays. When Finley and Kidd tried to double-team Kobe, the ball was passed to Garnett on the wing.
Garnett has the ball and faces Tim Duncan's defense.
This is the first head-to-head matchup between the two starting power forwards from the East and Western Conference.
Garnett swayed his shoulders from side to side before unleashing his signature turnaround jumper near the free-throw line.
"Swish." It went into the net without hitting the target.
Tim Duncan immediately responded in the next possession, hitting a bank shot over Garnett's defense.
But the Eastern Conference is gaining momentum.
With Garnett and Big Ben forming a no-fly zone in the paint, the Western Conference went through a five-minute scoring drought in the final nine minutes. Kobe then went on a scoring spree in the fourth quarter, while Garnett calmly hit two crucial mid-range jumpers.
The final whistle blew, 111:110.
The Eastern Conference pulled off one of the greatest comebacks in All-Star history, overcoming a 21-point deficit.
Post-game, MCI Center tunnel.
Kobe held up the All-Star MVP trophy, surrounded by the media. His performance in the fourth quarter was impeccable, and the MVP award was well-deserved.
In front of the lockers, the five Celtics players were quickly packing their bags. Nobody cared about the trophy.
Garnett put on his suit, loosened his tie, and let out a long sigh, "This damn game is finally over. Those few possessions defending Shaq in the fourth quarter were more tiring than a regular season game for me."
"But you still went to help on defense." Pierce stuffed his shoes into his bag, a slight smile playing on his lips.
"It's a conditioned reflex, I can't control it." Garnett shrugged.
Gary Payton zipped up his travel bag, glanced at Kobe who was still surrounded by reporters, and then clapped his hands at his young teammates.
"Alright, guys, the circus show in Washington is over." Gary Payton's eyes turned cold again.
Five people, each carrying a bag, walked out of the locker room side by side.
At the other end of the corridor, Kobe Brian was walking out with his bag on his back. When he saw the Celtics ' five-man lineup, Kobe stopped.
Kobe's gaze swept across the crowd and landed on Pierce and Garnett.
"Your defense was good in the All-Star Game," Kobe said coldly, with a clear hint of provocation. "But at the United Center, that level of defense couldn't stop me."
Pierce stopped, slung his bag over his shoulder, and stared at Kobe with a blank expression.
"See you in Chicago the day after tomorrow, Kobe." Pierce's voice was even colder, completely devoid of emotion. "By the way, we didn't really sweat much tonight."
Kobe gave a cold laugh and turned to walk towards the bus.
The brilliance of Washington is slowly fading.
The holiday buzz has completely died down for the Celtics ' five All-Stars.
Two days later, in Chicago.
The great battle is about to begin!