June 10, evening, Staples Center Los Angeles.
Unlike the old-fashioned, somber atmosphere of Boston's New Garden, Staples Center is filled with Hollywood- style fervor and extravagance.
Twenty thousand fans wearing purple and gold T-shirts turned the arena into a sea of cheers. In the VIP seats in the first row, Lakers' number one die-hard fan, Hollywood actor Jack Kerr, wearing his signature sunglasses, was shouting and yelling at the crowd.
But for the Los Angeles Lakers, who are trailing by a large margin, tonight they will play under immense pressure.
The 0-2 scoreline, coupled with the overwhelming ridicule from the Los Angeles media over the past two days, has pushed this team into a corner with no way out.
The atmosphere in the locker room before the game was so tense it felt like you could wring water out of it.
Phil Jackson walked in, carrying a copy of the day's Los Angeles Times, which he casually tossed onto the table in the center of the locker room. The headline, "The Price of Arrogance," stung the eyes of every Lakers player.
"I just read an article by a California journalist. They said you guys were scared out of your wits by the Wallace brothers and Garnett, and that this series is already over." Jackson, hands in his trouser pockets, spoke calmly, even with a hint of detached indifference. "To be honest, after watching the tapes of the first two games, I kind of agree with them."
The locker room was deathly silent.
Jason Kidd gritted his teeth, while Shaquille O'Neal O'Neal suddenly raised his head, a dangerous glint in his large eyes.
Jackson ignored the players' murderous glares and continued, "If you think playing Boston is too tiring, we can just play casually tonight. Getting swept 0-4 isn't a big deal. You've already won the Western Conference, so you can start your beach party in Hawaii tomorrow."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over O'Neal, Kidd, and Marion, a cruel, mocking smile playing on his lips.
"Or you could just give up tonight. I happen to know a manager at a Walmart in Walmart Orange County. Since you don't want to be tough guys on the court, I can introduce you to a stock clerk job. Anyone interested? Go work at the supermarket carrying goods. The cardboard boxes there won't elbow you like the Celtics players did."
"Bang!"
O'Neal slammed his fist on the wardrobe, his massive frame jerking to his feet. Like a silverback gorilla utterly enraged, he snorted and glared at Jackson: "Enough, Phil! Tonight I'm going to shove that afro-haired clown, ball and all, into that damn basket!"
"I hope so." Jackson said casually, then turned and walked out of the locker room.
All that remained in the locker room was a group of bloodthirsty beasts, their pride and fury ignited.
At 8:00 PM sharp, the referee blew his whistle, and the third game of the NBA Finals officially began.
The first dramatic conflict of the match erupted in a fierce physical confrontation right from the start.
Jason Kidd controlled the ball at the top of the key, signaling to Quentin Richardson to come out and receive the ball after a screen. As soon as Richardson went around the screen, Bruce Bowen was already right there with him.
Bowen's defense never showed any mercy. Just as Richardson reached out to catch the ball, Bowen subtly placed his toe on the edge of Richardson's shoe, and at the same time, taking advantage of the referee's blind spot, delivered a vicious elbow strike to the opponent's ribs.
Richardson was in pain, and tripped over his foot, causing his catching motion to instantly change, and the basketball flew out of his hand and out of bounds.
Mistake.
Richardson instantly flew into a rage, turned around and shoved Bowen hard. "You better watch your hands!"
Bowen met Richardson's gaze expressionlessly, his voice icy. " Los Angeles cowards, can't even handle this?"
Just as the two were about to clash, Jack Kerr, who was sitting close by on the sidelines, suddenly stood up, gave Bowen the middle finger, and roared, "Go back to your East Coast! You cowardly bastard who only knows how to use dirty tricks!"
Amidst deafening boos from the crowd, the referee quickly intervened and separated the two players. Although it didn't escalate to a technical foul, the tense atmosphere at the start set the tone for the entire game.
However, what truly changed the situation was the Lakers' subsequent unstoppable offensive performance.
Shaquille O'Neal O'Neal's rage erupted completely.
Facing Ben Wallace's strong defense, O'Neal used an extremely brutal back-to-the-basket attack to clear a path.
Even worse, the home-field advantage provided by Staples tonight has become a major problem.
"Drop--!"
"Drop--!"
Just six minutes into the first quarter, Ben Wallace picked up his second personal foul after O'Neal made two theatrical fakes of being fouled and then unleashed a brutal dunk over someone.
"A terrible start!" Beal Walton gasped in the commentary booth. "This is Los Angeles, the referees are on fire! Big Ben two fouls, Coach Rick Carlisle had to substitute him early!"
Brad Miller, the white center who came off the bench, was practically made of paper in front of the enraged O'Neal. To prevent Miller from being devoured, Rick Carlisle could only signal Garnett and Pierce to double-team O'Neal before he even received the ball.
But this just happened to fall into the Lakers' extremely excited rhythm tonight.
As Garnett collapsed to the baseline to double-team, O'Neal flicked his wrist, and the basketball flew precisely to the top of the key. There, Jason Kidd had been waiting for a long time.
According to Rick Carlisle's plan, Kidd's three-pointers didn't need to be closely guarded. After all, his terrible shooting had already earned him the nickname " Ji Butou Kidd." Fans removed the "J" from his name to mock him for not having a jump shot.
But tonight, back on his home court, Kidd received the ball with unusual determination in his eyes. He adjusted his breathing, faced Gary Payton who was rushing towards him, and steadily jumped to shoot.
"Whoosh!"
A three-pointer swished through the net.
"My God! Is that Jason Kidd?!" In the commentary booth, Beal Walton exaggeratedly clutched his head and shouted into the microphone, "He actually sank a pull-up three-pointer without hesitation! Listen, if even ' Ji Butou ' can sink threes like Reggie Miller tonight, then Boston is in big trouble!"
This explanation seemed like a precise prophecy.
In the next possession, the same double-teaming of O'Neal left an open space on the perimeter. Quentin Richardson, who had been frustrated by Bowen earlier, received the pass at a 45-degree angle on the right side.
Facing Bowen's relentless pursuit, Richardson roared and completely ignored Bowen's fingers that were about to block his eye, forcefully pulling up for a jump shot against the defense!
"Whoosh!"
Another incredibly difficult and absurd three-pointer!
After scoring, Richardson excitedly pounded his chest and unleashed a torrent of trash talk at Bowen. Meanwhile, on the sidelines, Jack Kerr was so thrilled that he took off his sunglasses and waved his suit jacket wildly.
Amidst the deafening roar of the home crowd, the Lakers ' inside and outside game formed an unstoppable virtuous cycle. O'Neal drew fouls and tore apart the paint, while Kidd and Richardson, who are not usually incredibly accurate, punished Boston's collapsing defense tonight as if they were on fire.
The whistle blew to signal halftime, and the scoreboard showed a score of 56 to 42.
The Lakers went into the locker room with a 14-point lead.
At halftime, Shaquille O'Neal O'Neal shot 8-for-11, efficiently racking up 18 points, 7 rebounds, and 4 assists. Jason Kidd delivered an even more impressive performance, making 3 of 4 three-point attempts.
Lin Qi sat in the back row of the visiting team's bench, watching the Lakers players walk back to the player tunnel, his eyes slightly narrowed.
Tactics are important, of course. But when a championship-caliber team is pushed to the brink, when the home crowd's spotlight ignites their adrenaline, and even players who usually can't make shots start raining down three-pointers...
No matter how much preparation you do in advance, you can't resist the mystical and lucky aspects of basketball.
After all, a ball is round.