Half an hour after the game ended, the press conference room at the New Garden was ablaze with flashes of light.
Doc Rivers sat in front of the microphone, his suit neatly adjusted, but the deep sense of helplessness from the game still lingered in his eyes. However, as a well-known "orator" in the league, he immediately regained his fighting spirit as soon as he opened his mouth.
"Listen, this is just a game." Doc Rivers braced his hands on the table, glancing around at the reporters below. " Boston played very well tonight; they made a lot of shots. But our players didn't give up. Darrell ( B. J. Armstrong ) fought, Ron ( Mercer ) fought, and Bo ( Outlaw ) battled those big men in the paint for four whole quarters."
In the audience, a senior reporter from the Boston Globe raised his hand without hesitation, his question as sharp as a knife, "Coach Doc Rivers, Ron Mercer, Bo Outlaw, and Ervin Johnson were all players traded by Lin Qi in the Orlando Magic's starting lineup today. Their plus-minus ratings were all abysmal negatives. Do you think that the Boston management foresaw these players' limitations in high-level playoff games when they traded them?"
This question was undeniably harsh, putting Doc Rivers in a very difficult position.
Doc Rivers's face stiffened for a moment, but he quickly raised his voice, retorting in an almost protective tone, "I disagree! They are highly competitive professionals, the ones who helped us secure a playoff spot in the regular season. Our loss today wasn't due to a lack of player ability, but rather a lack of energy on the court!"
"We weren't aggressive enough on defense, and we were a beat too slow when we got back on defense. In the next game, we'll play tougher, and we'll bring out the fighting spirit that belongs to Orlando!"
In the president's office on the top floor of the stadium, Lin Qi sat on the sofa, watching Rivers' impassioned Doc Rivers on the television screen, and couldn't help but chuckle.
"Energy? Fighting spirit? Toughness?" Lin Qi shook his head, picked up the remote control, and pressed the mute button.
Sitting across from him, Rick Carlisle was flipping through the newly printed post-game statistics. Without looking up, he commented, "If yelling in the locker room could compensate for structural deficiencies in spacing and tactics, then what's the point of having us coaches?"
" Doc Rivers is a good guy and a great speaker who can unite the locker room," Lin Qi commented. "In the regular season, when you're tired from a long schedule, his motivational speeches can get the players to run a few more steps and win a few more games. But this is the playoffs."
"In the playoffs," Rick Carlisle closed the stats and continued Lin Qi's words, "When you're facing an impenetrable concrete wall, if the coach can't come up with a strategy to get around it, and just blindly encourages the players to ram into it with even faster speed and harder skulls, that's not fighting spirit, that's suicide."
Lin Qi nodded in deep agreement. The Orlando Magic's lack of inside shooting and outside scoring ability was a fatal flaw in terms of talent and team-building strategy. No matter how much motivational talk Doc Rivers gave, it couldn't change the fundamental fact that Bo Outlaw couldn't make three-pointers.
"Ring ring--"
Just then, the private phone on Lin Qi's desk suddenly rang.
Lin Qi walked over and glanced at the caller ID. Area code 210, San Antonio, State of Texas.
Lin Qi answered the phone and pressed the speakerphone button.
"Good evening, RC ( Spurs General Manager RC Buford )," Lin Qi said with just the right amount of ease. "The nights in Texas must be much warmer than in Boston, right?"
Buford's steady voice came from the other end of the phone, tinged with a hint of fatigue. "Warm? Lin Qi, look at the media outside, I'm practically being roasted on a barbecue grill by the San Antonio fans. The first game was like wrestling in a mud pit, Tim ( Tim Duncan )'s arms are covered in bruises now."
"I watched your game. Your opponents used endless switching and local double-teaming. They really know how to wear down your inside game," Lin Qi continued.
"Yeah, that's why I'm not as relaxed as you, sitting in the box sipping red wine in the fourth quarter." Buford's tone shifted, becoming meaningful. " Lin Qi, I watched your second half. Michael Redd's shooting was on fire, and Brad Miller's playmaking and three-point shooting are getting more and more refined. Your second unit is so luxurious it's making the whole league drool."
"Thank you for the compliment, RC." Lin Qi understood the implied meaning and responded calmly.
"But Lin Qi..." Buford chuckled on the other end of the phone, "As a fellow professional, I have to give you a heads-up. It's certainly impressive to put them under the national spotlight and have them perform like crazy. But you can't keep everyone."
This was Buford's real purpose in making that overseas call.
"You have Kevin Garnett, Chris Paul Pierce, and Gary Payton; your room for maneuver is very limited." Buford's voice was full of businessman shrewdness and persuasion. "Do you really think you can keep Michael Redd? Brad Miller and Bruce Bowen will soon be looking for starting contracts that match their abilities. You can't give everyone big contracts, but there are plenty of teams in the Western Conference that can, like San Antonio."
This is blatant off-field psychological warfare.
Buford is implying to Lin Qi that his bench will soon fall apart. He's trying to sting the Celtics' management with his anxiety about "the next big contract," and even hopes this rumor will reach the Boston locker room. If those bench players start thinking about "padding their stats for a big contract" in the playoffs, the Celtics' seemingly unbreakable team chemistry will crack.
Rick Carlisle sat on the sofa, his brow furrowed slightly, clearly understanding Buford's sinister intentions.
However, Lin Qi was not angered. Instead, he leaned against the edge of the desk with great relaxation and laughed out loud.
"RC, if you're calling in the middle of the night just to violate the league's 'illegal recruitment' clause, I'm going to report you to David Stern tomorrow morning."
"Don't be nervous, it's just casual conversation between old friends," Buford chuckled.
"I know very well I can't keep everyone, RC, that's just the basic rule of the NBA." Lin Qi's tone suddenly became incredibly realistic and cold. "I never intended to offer big contracts to everyone on the bench. But you have to understand one thing..."
Lin Qi stared at the Boston skyline outside the window and said, word by word, "Before they leave Boston for a big contract and go to Texas to get that damn tax-free check... they have to keep this year's O'Brien Trophy here for me."
Buford remained silent on the other end of the phone.
"Besides," Lin Qi didn't give the other party a chance to breathe, immediately taking the initiative and starting to promote his player, "Why wait until the offseason to snatch him up in free agency? How about this, this summer, as long as you're willing to put the signing rights to that Argentina you have named Manu Ginobili on the negotiating table, whether it's Redd or Miller, we can sit down and talk about a trade. How about that, I'm very generous, aren't I?"
"... Your appetite is far too big. That Argentina is a very important part of our future." Buford chuckled dryly, clearly not expecting Lin Qi to turn the tables and even target their overseas assets.
"That's a shame." Lin Qi shrugged. "Well, good luck in the first round of the Western Conference. Don't overwork Tim, because from now on, besides your current opponents, you'll also have to keep a close eye on our moves."
The call ended.
Lin Qi looked at the receiver that was emitting a dial tone and sneered.
"He's trying to use the pressure of salary cap space to demoralize our troops," Rick Carlisle pointed out incisively, looking up.
"Just another one of the old fox's usual tactics." Lin Qi put the phone back in its place. "The harsh conditions in the Western Conference have terrified them, so he's trying to find cracks in our armor. Unfortunately for him, he's miscalculated. I know the 'shelf life' of this lineup better than he does."