April 19, Boston, FleetCenter Arena.
After finishing the regular season with a stunning 69 wins, the Boston Celtics instantly became the absolute top star in the American sports world and even the entire entertainment industry.
For Boston, a city steeped in history, this two-time champion team, whose playing style combines grit and flair, ignited a frenzy throughout New England. In just a few days, tickets for the first round of the playoffs against the Orlando Magic were being resold on the black market for five times their original price, with even a top-of-the-line ticket offering only a view of half the court fetching thousands of dollars.
Not only because this is the defending champions' first playoff game, but also because the Orlando Magic's head coach is none other than Doc Rivers, the legendary coach who led Boston to two championships in the past two years.
What followed was an overwhelming amount of off-site noise.
Outside the training facility, it was constantly surrounded by media vans from all over the country and representatives of commercial sponsors carrying huge checks. Matt Damon, a top star from Boston and a friend of Lin Qi, became the most troublesome "connections" during this period.
Matt Damon owns 0.01% of the team and is nominally one of the Celtics ' "owners," enjoying the privilege of sitting on the sidelines and even entering and leaving the locker room at any time.
That afternoon, Matt Damon, accompanied by two Hollywood producer friends in suits, sneaked to the entrance of the training facility, hoping to catch a glimpse of the team's tactical drills.
"Dude, just ten minutes," Matt Damon said with a grin to the head of security at the door. "I brought two Warner friends; they're very interested in KG and want to get up close."
The security supervisor stood expressionless in front of the door. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Matt. Mr. Lin Qi has given clear and directives: from today onwards, no one is allowed to step into the training hall without special permission."
The two Hollywood producers were clearly unaccustomed to being turned away like this. One of them frowned slightly, stepped forward, and said, "Buddy, go tell your boss. We have a reality documentary project with a budget of tens of millions. We just need to be allowed in to shoot some footage..."
"Material?"
A cold voice came from the corridor.
Lin Qi, holding a thick stack of tactical documents, walked out with the public relations director.
" Lin Qi! Getting through here is harder than getting into the Pentagon these days." Matt Damon waved through the glass, trying to ease the awkward atmosphere.
Lin Qi walked to the door, his gaze calmly sweeping over the two producers before turning to Matt Damon.
" Matt, if you're coming to the game by yourself, a front-row VIP seat will always be reserved for you. You can even ride in my car during the championship parade." Lin Qi's tone was flat, but carried an undeniable coldness. "But if you bring outsiders to my turf to inquire about tactics, or even try to treat a bunch of professional players preparing for the game like monkeys in a reality show..."
Lin Qi shook his head. "No way."
"Mr. Lin Qi, you may not understand Hollywood's asking price. This is a seven-figure sum..." the producer persisted.
"Shut him up, Matt. While I still consider you a friend." Lin Qi interrupted him mercilessly.
Matt Damon immediately noticed the murderous aura in Lin Qi's eyes.
"Okay, okay, my bad." Matt shrugged helplessly, grabbing the producer who was about to speak. "Guys, let's go, let's not make a fool of ourselves here."
After seeing Matt Damon off, Lin Qi turned to look at the public relations director beside him.
"Tell all player agents that if any brand dares to harass my players for commercials before the NBA Finals are over, the Celtics will permanently blacklist that brand."
"Understood, boss." Jeff swallowed hard and immediately went to do it.
Lin Qi took a deep breath, turned around, and walked towards the players' locker room at the end of the corridor.
At this moment, the locker room is hosting the final team gathering before the playoffs begin.
Lin Qi pushed open the heavy wooden door, then locked it completely from the inside with a "click".
All the noise, celebrities, and flashing lights were completely shut out by this door. The entire locker room fell silent instantly. Garnett, Pierce, Gary Payton —all eyes were on Lin Qi.
"I just chased away a Hollywood film crew outside the door." Lin Qi walked to the center of the room, his gaze sweeping over each player. "Starting today, the Boston Celtics are officially under absolute lockdown. The training facility is closed to everyone. From now on, your cell phones must be switched off, and you are prohibited from all off-court interviews and commercial engagements."
Lin Qi paused for a moment, then slammed a copy of the Boston Globe playoff special edition onto the tactical table in the center of the room.
"I know you think the first round is just a formality. But I know even more that the man sitting on the visiting team's bench tomorrow night is plotting how to forever etch you into the annals of shame."
The front page of the special edition featured a huge photo of Orlando Magic head coach Doc Rivers, with the headline next to it.
"The Amazing Coach Challenges His Former Master: Can a Commoner's Magic Create a Miracle?"
" Doc Rivers." Lin Qi read the name, and the atmosphere in the locker room instantly became extremely awkward.
"Everyone knows that the Orlando Magic don't have a superstar this year, not even a player on the verge of All-Star selection. But Doc has led this 'commoner' team, composed entirely of patchwork players and blue-collar workers, to fight his way through the Eastern Conference and secure a playoff spot. Now everyone is praising him as a tactical genius, Magic who turns the impossible into reality."
Lin Qi pointed at the newspaper, his voice cold.
" Doc Rivers said in an interview this morning that he knows Boston's tactics inside and out. He said he built the foundation of this team himself and knows all the weaknesses of the Boston Celtics."
Chris Paul Pierce looked down, fiddling with the knee pads in his hands, a short laugh escaping his lips—a laugh that was hard to tell if it was mockery or amusement. He turned and exchanged a very subtle glance with Garnett.
"Basics?" Pierce repeated the word softly, shook his head, and didn't continue.
As the core of the team that fought tooth and nail to win the championship over the past two years, they know better than anyone the true extent of their former head coach's "tactical reserves." Doc is indeed a highly charismatic locker room orator and a master at giving motivational speeches.
But to bestow upon him a title like "tactical mastermind"...
The Boston players who play every day in Rick Carlisle's extremely tight and complex system are well aware of this...
Not even close.
Out of respect for their past two championships, they will never say such things.
Garnett leaned against the locker and calmly tightened the bandage around his wrist.
"If Doc still sees us as the same team as last season..." Garnett looked up, "Then he might feel very unfamiliar with us."
Gary Payton, accustomed to the cutthroat nature of the league, draped a towel over his shoulder and casually added, "The media needs a 'rags-to-riches' story, so they desperately need to create a miracle coach. Let them be; we don't need to help the media burst this bubble."
Lin Qi smiled as he observed the players' reactions.
"Very good. Keep up this attitude." Lin Qi rolled up the newspaper in his hand and casually threw it into the wastebasket in the corner.
Lin Qi walked to the door, gripped the heavy brass doorknob, turned to look at the team, and issued his ultimatum.
"The locker room is now closed. The entire team is now ready to play."
With a soft "click," Lin Qi pushed open the door and went out.