March 20, Boston, Celtics training facility locker room.
In the locker room after morning practice, most of the rotation players had gone to the physiotherapy room, while the remaining few were leaning against the bench, watching the wall-mounted TV.
On the screen, ESPN's SportsCenter is broadcasting the latest feature on the regular season MVP race.
"With less than four weeks left in the regular season, the race for this year's MVP has devolved into one of the most fiercely debated discussions in the entire American media," host Stuart Scott's calm and resonant voice emanated from the speakers. "Let's take a look at the latest candidate statistics."
The screen quickly splits into five visually striking player photos, accompanied by the latest match statistics.
Allen Iverson ( Philadelphia 76ers ):
He averaged 31.1 points, 3.8 rebounds, 4.6 assists, and 2.5 steals per game.
Team record: 49 wins and 20 losses, second in the Eastern Conference.
Kevin Garnett ( Boston Celtics ):
He averaged 22.4 points, 11.2 rebounds, 5.2 assists, and 1.8 blocks per game.
Team record: 59 wins and 10 losses, ranked first in the league.
Chris Paul Pierce ( Boston Celtics ):
He averaged 26.3 points, 6.8 rebounds, and 3.9 assists per game.
Team record: 59 wins and 10 losses, ranked first in the league.
Gary Payton ( Boston Celtics ):
He averaged 23.1 points, 8.2 assists, 4.1 rebounds, and 1.6 steals per game.
Team record: 59 wins and 10 losses, ranked first in the league.
Tim Duncan ( San Antonio Spurs ):
He averaged 22.2 points, 12.2 rebounds, 3.0 assists, and 2.3 blocks per game.
Team record: 54 wins and 15 losses, first in the Western Conference.
Rasheed Wallace, lying on the massage bed, rolled over, looked at the screen, and shook his head. "These guys have been repeating the same old thing for a whole month."
"Because American fans love this kind of thing, and they're doing it for ratings." Billups was looking down, securing an ice pack to his knee with a resistance band, when he glanced up at the screen.
On television, analyst Stephen A. Smith was waving his hands excitedly. " Iverson's story is flawless! 31 points per game, the league's leading scorer! He carried Philadelphia from a playoff-bound team to second in the Eastern Conference with his average height. Without him, the Philadelphia 76ers are just a defensively strong team lacking offensive firepower. That's the ultimate definition of MVP—Most Valuable Player!"
"But Boston went 59-10!" another veteran columnist countered. "After a 27-game winning streak and a tactical adjustment period at the end of February, Boston still leads the league by a significant margin. Garnett is the core of both offense and defense, Pierce is an offensive kaleidoscope, and Gary Payton is the on-court brain. Traditionally, the best players come from the best teams."
"But here's the problem..." Smith spread his hands, raising his voice, "Tell me, how do you pick out the 'most' important person from these three?"
The director switched to a newly released chart showing simulated voting intentions among journalists across the United States.
Iverson took the lead with 42% of the vote. Garnett, Pierce, and Gary Payton received 19%, 14%, and 11% respectively, while Tim Duncan garnered 10%. The others only managed 4%.
"Do you understand this mathematical logic?" Stuart Scott pointed to the chart. " Boston's three core players combined received a full 44% of the first-place votes. If all those votes were concentrated on one person, Iverson would have no chance. But the current situation is that this 44% has been diluted evenly. This is the price of a super team—having your own teammates split your votes."
" Iverson proved himself indispensable every night," Smith summarized, "While Boston's game felt like they were just 'clocking in and out.' Today KG gets 20 points and 10 rebounds, tomorrow Pierce gets 30 points, and the day after Gary Payton dishs out a dozen assists. They win too steadily, too methodically, lacking the epic, tragic feeling of a lone hero."
"Clocking in for work?" Rasheed sat bolt upright in bed, yanking off a towel. "Is it easy to achieve a 59-10 record? In the eyes of these talkers in the studio, that's just clocking in for work? Why don't you try clocking in on stage yourself?"
"What they really want to see is superheroes going toe-to-toe in one-on-one fights," Billups said with a wry smile.
The locker room door was then pushed open.
Garnett walked in wearing a soaking wet vest. He looked serious, didn't greet anyone, and went straight to his locker, his gaze fixed on the television screen.
Rasheed immediately shut his mouth, and the locker room became so quiet that only the sound of the television could be heard.
"As for Kobe Brian," the discussion on TV continued, "He's averaging 30.2 points per game, but the Chicago Bulls currently have a record of 28 wins and 41 losses, third from the bottom in the Eastern Conference. The atmosphere in the locker room is terrible; Elton Brand even refuses to communicate with Kobe off the court, and I heard he's requested a trade. No matter how good his stats are, if he can't carry the team, Kobe isn't even a runner-up in the MVP discussion."
Garnett stood in front of the locker, took a deep breath, and reached out to unfasten the Magic on his weighted vest. The crisp "ripping" sound was particularly clear in the deathly silent locker room.
Pierce walked out of the physiotherapy room with a bottle of sports drink in his hand. He glanced at the charts on the TV, then at the silent Garnett, and sat down at the cabinet next to him.
"Still showing this?" Pierce unscrewed the bottle cap, his brow furrowing slightly. "Those guys at ESPN are so boring, they'd love to see us fighting in the locker room over MVP all the time."
"Then they're destined to be disappointed," Pierce scoffed.
Just then, Gary Payton emerged from the bathroom, drying his wet scalp. He glanced at the television screen, casually draped a towel over his shoulder, and walked to the closet to change his clothes.
" Iverson might win MVP," Rasheed muttered from the side.
"That's good, he's really playing hard this year." Gary Payton put on his T-shirt without looking up.
Garnett stopped what he was doing. He turned around, leaned against the metal locker, and crossed his arms.
"So, we just handed the MVP to Iverson like that?" Garnett's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a suppressed somber tone.
The locker room fell silent, and all eyes were on him.
"It's not that I absolutely need this trophy," Garnett said, looking at the locker room floor, his eyes filled with resentment. "But we were number one in the league, 59 wins and 10 losses. We won so many games, we had a 27-game winning streak, we were the best team. And yet, when it comes to awards, we're the ones who suffer because of that?"
He looked up at Pierce and Gary Payton.
" Lin Qi told me that the team always comes before the individual, and to win, you have to do the right thing. If the three of us were fighting for shot attempts to get stats, this team would have been ruined long ago." Garnett's breathing became heavier, his eyes brimming with resentment and anger. "But I don't want to pretend to be magnanimous... Seeing that list made me extremely unhappy. We are the strongest team in this league, and this stupid voting system is punishing us. If we follow the normal logic of 'giving the trophy to the best player on the best team,' the MVP should undoubtedly belong to us."
Gary Payton tossed the towel aside, walked over to Garnett, and pulled up a folding chair to sit down.
"KG, do you know how old I am this year?" Gary Payton asked.
32 years old.
"Yes, 32 years old. I've been in this league for a full 11 years." Gary Payton pointed to his chest. "I've won Defensive Player of the Year, been on the First Team All-NBA, and led a team to the NBA Finals. MVP? When I was younger, I ranked as high as third, behind Michael Jordan and Carl Malone. At this age, I've come to understand. The media can come up with a new story every year about those lone heroes who single-handedly lead their teams. But the ones who win championships are always the strongest teams."
Gary Payton patted Garnett's knee, his tone revealing the clarity and frankness characteristic of a veteran.
"My only goal right now is the championship. As for Chris Paul, he's only 22 years old, and he has plenty of opportunities to win the scoring title and MVP in the future." Gary Payton looked up at Garnett, "But in this team, the one who truly does the hardest work on defense every day and holds up the entire defensive system is you. On offense, you also have to set screens and be the playmaker. So the management is focusing resources on building momentum and campaigning for you, and Chris Paul and I are completely in favor. If you win, even if the Celtics win, none of us will have a single objection."
Pierce put the drink on the ground, stood up, and walked over to the two of them.
" Gary's right, KG." Pierce looked at Garnett, his eyes extremely serious. "We've already won two championships. If we win one more this year, we'll have a three-peat and establish our dynasty."
Pierce's tone was firm and resolute. "The regular season MVP is decided by the reporters, we can't control that. But the championship is something we earned with our own hard work. When we win our three-peat, history will only remember this Celtics that dominated the league, and I will be a part of that team. We will become legends, brothers!"
Garnett lowered his head and remained silent for a long time.
Gary Payton and Pierce's words acted like a wake-up call, completely clearing away the turmoil and frustration that had been weighing on his mind. He raised his head again, the restlessness in his eyes gone, replaced by pure focus and sharpness.
"Okay." Garnett exhaled a breath, his voice low and resolute. "Let them have the empty titles of the regular season. But if we meet Philadelphia in the playoffs, I'll show everyone what true value really is."
Pierce smiled and extended his right fist, "For the sake of establishing a dynasty."
"For the dynasty."
Garnett raised his fist and bumped it with Pierce's.
Gary Payton also raised his fist and bumped into him. "For the dynasty."
Rasheed whistled a crisp note from the massage bed. "That's it, that's what Boston should be like."
Billups laughed too, "Looks like some people are in for trouble."
Garnett turned and glared at them. "You two hurry up and get ready, don't be late for tactics class later."