When a knife is sharp enough, you often don't feel pain when you cut off a head.
For the Orlando Magic Team, Game 3 of the first round of the playoffs was a display of "mercy" from the Boston Celtics.
Back at their home arena, TD Waterhouse Centre Arena, the Orlando Magic initially hoped to make a final desperate fight, leveraging their home-court advantage. However, faced with overwhelming talent, this fighting spirit lasted only half a quarter.
From the end of the first quarter, the game completely fell into Boston's rhythm. Chris Paul Pierce's unstoppable isolation plays, Garnett's overwhelming presence, and the bench players' relentless offensive onslaught...
With four minutes remaining in the third quarter, when Michael Redd hit his fourth three-pointer of the game on a fast break, extending the lead to 25 points, Orlando fans began to leave en masse.
On the bench, Doc Rivers covered his face with his hands, remaining silent. He didn't shout any more motivational speeches, because what lingered in his mind were the words Lin Qi had said to him from the sidelines of the previous game, behind his clipboard.
"Beep--"
The red light came on, signaling the end of the match. 102:84.
The Boston Celtics swept the first round 3-0 in an extremely ruthless manner.
On the sidelines, the two head coaches shook hands politely. Doc Rivers looked up, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, and accurately spotted the president's figure in the VIP box. Lin Qi, through the glass, slightly raised his water glass towards him.
Doc Rivers knew that his Orlando days were numbered, and his only lifeline lay in the hands of that devil.
As the final whistle blew, the score on the scoreboard settled at 102:84.
There was no miracle, and there was no suspense.
The Boston Celtics swept through Orlando in a decisive first-round victory.
On the sidelines, Doc Rivers, looking somewhat dejected, straightened his tie and walked to the center of the court. Rick Carlisle greeted him, and the two head coaches shook hands politely before leaving the stage to the players.
The moment the game ended, Kevin Garnett's wolf-like expression vanished instantly. He strode towards the Orlando Magic's half of the court.
There, Bo Outlaw and Ervin Johnson were supporting themselves on their knees, panting heavily. For three whole games, they had been repeatedly overwhelmed by the Celtics ' formidable frontcourt, and their energy was already at its limit.
"Bo!"
Garnett yelled and walked over with his arms outstretched.
Hearing that familiar voice, Bo Outlaw looked up, a bitter smile appearing on his tired face. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and embraced Garnett tightly.
"Good game, bro. When you were grabbing the offensive rebound in the first quarter, that elbow you gave me almost broke my ribs." Garnett patted Outlaw on the back, his tone devoid of the trash talk he used on the court, filled only with pure respect.
"There's nothing we can do, Kevin." Outlaw released his grip, shaking his head helplessly. "Besides fighting tooth and nail, we have no advantage over you. But even so, we're still far behind."
Ervin Johnson, who was standing nearby, also came over and bumped fists with Garnett.
" Boston is a monster." Johnson looked at the Celtics' bench interacting with fans, a complex mix of nostalgia in his eyes. "Your roster depth now is far more terrifying than when I was there."
"But I still think back to those years I played with you guys," Garnett said earnestly. He knew very well that although these two blue-collar big men were technically rough, they were the ones who did the dirty work on the court every night during Boston's most difficult rebuilding period.
"Don't try to comfort us, Kevin. This is business, we know." Outlaw grinned, a smile that revealed the nonchalance of a professional athlete.
"You guys are aiming for a three-peat, right, Kevin?" Ervin Johnson patted Garnett on the shoulder. "Go for it!"
Garnett nodded solemnly.
In the away team's box high up in the stadium, Lin Qi quietly watched the tall figures embracing each other in the center of the court.
"Sometimes, seeing them like this makes me feel like a cold-blooded bastard," Lin Qi said softly, twirling the empty paper cup in his hand.
The assistant standing to the side smiled and said, "Mr. Lin Qi, if you hadn't been 'cold-blooded' and traded them away, we might have been the ones swept out of the game tonight. That's the NBA; sentimentality won't win you a championship."
"Yes, sentimentality can't win a championship."
Lin Qi tossed the paper cup into the trash can and turned to walk out the door. He respected the camaraderie among the players and admired the blue-collar spirit embodied by players like Bo Outlaw. But from the day he took the position of president of the Boston Celtics, his primary task was to build a championship team.
Half an hour later, in the away team's locker room.
The Celtics players simply finished washing up calmly, because everyone knew that their goal was more than just getting past the first round.
Lin Qi pushed open the locker room door.
"Well done, gentlemen." Lin Qi clapped his hands, looking at the players who had just clocked out. "To recognize your early exit from the first round, the team is giving you two days off starting tomorrow when you fly back to Boston. No need to report to the training facility, no need to watch video."
"Whoa!" Rasheed Wallace whistled loudly. " Chris Paul, come back to my place in Boston. I just bought the latest PS2 game, and I'm going to beat you to a pulp in Madden NFL!"
"Go to hell, Rasheed, you can't even hold a handle properly," Pierce retorted with a laugh, wearing his baggy, almost floor-length hip-hop jeans.
A burst of lighthearted laughter erupted in the locker room.
"But listen..." Lin Qi tapped the tactical blackboard, interrupting their jokes, his tone becoming serious, "I require you to be on the training field on Monday morning. You should know very well what a sweep means."
Garnett, who had just finished showering and had a towel draped around his neck, sat in front of the closet and looked up. "It means that we're the only ones in the entire league who can comfortably lie on the sofa, drinking beer and watching TV."
"Absolutely right, Kevin."
Lin Qi pulled up a chair and sat down, then picked up a copy of today's United States Today newspaper and flipped to the sports section.
"Look what everyone else is doing. The Utah Jazz and the Dallas Mavericks are now tied 1-1. Carl Malone left a mark on that Germany ( Nowitzki )'s face with his big elbow last night. It looks like these two teams are going to play five games and won't stop until a few of them end up in the hospital."
Lin Qi waved the newspaper in his hand, as if sharing some gossip. "Although the Los Angeles Lakers are stronger, those guys in Portland are no pushovers. Rasheed, you should know your former teammates' tempers very well."
As the players listened to this league gossip, their expressions relaxed, even showing a hint of schadenfreude.
"And that little guy from Philadelphia ( Iverson )." Lin Qi threw the newspaper on the table. "He just went down at least twenty times under Charlotte's fierce defense. Even if they win in the end, he'll probably be stuck in an ice bath right now."
"So, enjoy your two days off, play your games, and spend time with your wives and kids."
Lin Qi stood up, straightened his suit cuffs, glanced around the dressing room, and a satisfied smile appeared on his lips.
See you Monday, guys.
The locker room door closed, leaving only the players' knowing laughter.