In the visiting team's locker room during halftime, the atmosphere remained tense despite their 13-point lead.
"You played perfectly in the first half," Rick Carlisle tapped on the whiteboard. "But listen, the Los Angeles team won't give up easily on their home court. Ben, Kevin, watch your defensive moves. I have a feeling the calls won't be as smooth in the second half."
The third quarter began with the teams switching sides.
On the Los Angeles Lakers ' first possession, Jason Kidd didn't try to find his touch from the outside, but instead decisively lobbed the ball to Shaquille O'Neal O'Neal in the low post.
Just like in the first half, Ben Wallace lowered his center of gravity, raised his hands high, and used a perfectly executed movement to meet O'Neal's impact.
The two players clashed in mid-air, O'Neal's layup missed. Big Ben secured the rebound.
"Drop--!"
However, just as Ben Wallace was Big Ben to pass the ball to Billups for a counter-attack, the baseline referee's sharp whistle rang out Staples Center.
The referee's finger pointed directly at Ben Wallace; a defensive foul, O'Neal got two free throws.
"What?!" Big Ben's eyes widened in anger as he rushed to the referee. "I didn't even press down! I kept my torso upright the whole time! What's going on?!"
The referee stared at him expressionlessly and coldly uttered, "Watch your temper, or I won't hesitate to give you a technical foul."
Garnett rushed over and pulled Big Ben away.
This was just a small test, but those with keen senses had already detected the unusual atmosphere in the air.
For the next ten minutes, Staples Center became a stage for the referees in their grey shirts. The Celtics players suddenly found themselves in a vicious cycle where no matter what they did, they would be called for a foul.
In the fifth minute of the third quarter, Chris Paul Pierce was clearly hit in the forearm by Los Angeles Lakers ' Quentin Richardson while driving to the basket, causing the basketball to slip from his hand. Pierce looked at the referee, but the referee did nothing.
Turning back, the Lakers launched a fast break. When Jason Kidd broke through Gary Payton's defense, Gary Payton simply gave him a normal chest bump, but the referee immediately blew the whistle.
Blocking foul.
"Are you kidding me?!" The hot-tempered Gary Payton exploded, pointing at the other half of the court and yelling, " Chris Paul's arm was almost broken just now and you didn't call it, but I didn't do anything and you called a foul?"
"Drop--!"
Without hesitation, the referee issued Gary Payton a technical foul.
Rick Carlisle angrily ripped off his tie on the sidelines, stormed to the scorer's table, and roared, "Are you officiating the NBA Finals or a high school girls' basketball game?! If you can't have physical contact, just let them decide the winner by flipping a coin at the free-throw line!"
Rick Carlisle was met with a similar warning technical foul.
Under the referee's blatant double standards, the Celtics ' defensive system, which they had built up in the first half, was torn apart.
The players began to become hesitant on the defensive end, because the whistle would inevitably blow as soon as they exerted themselves. Without the restraint of high-intensity physical contact, O'Neal was completely unshackled in the paint. He not only dominated the restricted area, but also quickly brought Big Ben and Garnett to the brink of four fouls each.
At the end of the third quarter, the Los Angeles Lakers had an astonishing 22 free throws, while the Celtics only managed a paltry 4.
The 13-point lead was wiped out time and again by the pauses at the free-throw line.
78 to 78 tie.
In the fourth quarter, the game completely turned into a suffocating and frustrating quagmire.
The Boston players were still giving it their all. Exhausted from staying up all night and burning with anger, they used every means to score. Pierce hit two incredibly difficult fadeaway jumpers in a row from the outside, forcibly maintaining the score balance.
But whenever Boston manages to score a hard-fought basket, the Lakers get to the frontcourt and always manage to get the whistle very easily.
With 1 minute and 12 seconds remaining in the game, the scoreboard showed the Celtics trailing by one point, 99-100.
Lakers have possession. O'Neal receives the ball in the low post, while Ben Wallace, who is defending him, already has five fouls.
O'Neal turned and exerted force. Big Ben gritted his teeth and didn't back down an inch. To show the referee that he hadn't made a move, he raised his arms high in a very proper manner, completely exposing his torso, purely using strength to meet the force.
Seeing that he couldn't create any space, O'Neal turned around and, with extreme brute force, lowered his left shoulder, concentrating his 300-plus pounds of weight and explosive power into one point, and slammed into Big Ben's chest with extreme brutality.
The impact was extremely heavy. Big Ben Wallace grunted and was sent flying backward, crashing heavily onto the floor and sliding more than two meters. O'Neal then easily dunked the ball in.
This was an extremely obvious charging foul. All the Boston players, even the substitutes on the bench, stood up, ready to celebrate this successful defensive play that drew the foul.
"Drop--!"
The whistle blew. The referee strode into the penalty area and pointed mercilessly at Big Ben, who was lying on the floor panting.
Defensive blocking foul. The ball goes in, and a free throw is awarded.
Ben Wallace was ejected from the game for his sixth personal foul!
"What the hell are you talking about?!"
The first to lose control wasn't even Big Ben himself, but Rasheed Wallace.
Rasheed's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. He had completely lost his temper, strode up to the referee, his finger almost poking the referee's nose, spitting wildly. "He didn't even extend his hand! Shaq's damn elbow almost broke his ribs! Were you watching the game with your ass?!"
"Drop--!"
Without any hesitation, the referee immediately made a "T" (technical foul) gesture.
But this did nothing to quell Rasheed's rage. For the league's most hot-tempered player, a technical foul was simply adding fuel to the fire.
"Keep blowing! Keep blowing!" Rasheed ripped at his jersey collar, roaring hysterically at the referee, veins bulging on his neck. "You might as well wear a Los Angeles purple and gold jersey and pass the ball to Shaq! How much bribe did you take? You son of a bitch, you blind man!"
"Drop--!"
The second technical foul.
The referee, with a cold expression, pointed decisively towards the players' tunnel.
Rasheed Wallace, ejected from the game!
In just ten seconds, Boston's two key interior players were both ejected in a highly controversial call!
"This is going too far!" Beal Walton, watching from the commentary booth, couldn't take it anymore. He shouted into the microphone, " Shaq's shoulder drop was definitely an offensive foul, even if it wasn't a flagrant foul! The referee ruined this great NBA Finals with two ejections!"
Rick Carlisle stood on the sidelines, his face grim, but he desperately held back Artest, who was trying to rush onto the court. He knew that if the whole team rioted now, it would play right into the league's hands.
Garnett and Pierce practically dragged Rasheed was still cursing, off the field.
According to the rules, the Lakers were awarded two technical foul free throws, plus a 2+1 free throw by O'Neal.
Jason Kidd stepped to the free-throw line and, amidst the cheers of 20,000 Los Angeles fans, calmly made both technical foul free throws.
102 to 99.
Immediately afterwards, Shaquille O'Neal O'Neal stepped to the free-throw line, ready to take his highly controversial "2+1" free throw.
The entire arena fell silent. O'Neal took a deep breath and flicked the ball.
"When!"
The basketball bounced off the back of the rim and flew high, but it didn't go in!
Just as O'Neal missed the free throw, Rasheed Wallace, who had already been escorted to the entrance of the player tunnel by security personnel, suddenly broke free from the security guard's arm.
He turned around, facing 20,000 Los Angeles fans and the referees on the court, and let out a thunderous roar that resounded throughout the entire Staples Center.
"BALL DON'T LIE!!! (Basketball doesn't lie!!!)"
This roar, brimming with the raw energy of the streets yet imbued with the absolute the Truth of competition, struck like a heavy hammer into the chest of every insecure person.
Yes, the referee can manipulate the whistle and eject players, but that damn basketball is fair; it refuses to fall into the net!
But a mental victory cannot reverse a deficit on the scoreboard.
After losing Big Ben and Rasheed, Boston completely lost control of the paint in the final minute. Despite Pierce's desperate drive into the paint, he was triple-teamed and pulled by three defenders, with the referees turning a blind eye, and he desperately missed his final layup.
The final whistle blew, the score was 101-106.
The Celtics suffered a heartbreaking defeat in this extremely brutal, even brutal, game.
The score was now tied at 2-2.
Staples Center erupted in celebration once again. Lakers players embraced each other on the court, celebrating their hard-won victory.
The Boston players, on the other hand, wore grim expressions. No one shook hands with their opponents, nor did anyone look at the celebrating Los Angeles fans. Everyone remained silent, their faces filled with grief and indignation as they walked straight to the players' tunnel.
Lin Qi remained seated in the back row of the visiting team's bench, never changing his posture from the moment the referees began to exert pressure in the third quarter. Even when Rasheed was ejected, his expression remained completely unchanged.
He watched the Los Angeles Lakers celebrating with a cold eye, and saw the referees hurriedly leave the court under the escort of a row of security guards.
"Boss, do I need to file a complaint with the league?" The team's public relations manager leaned close to Lin Qi, his voice laced with barely suppressed anger. "Tonight's free throw count was a staggering 45 to 16. That's outrageous."
"Appeal? Can that kind of procedural thing change the outcome of a match?" Lin Qi stood up, straightened his tie, and spoke in a calm tone that sent a chill down one's spine.
It's obvious that David Stern wants ratings and wants to prolong the series.
Lin Qi turned his head and glanced at the door to the away team's locker room at the end of the players' tunnel. Rasheed's words, "The ball doesn't lie," still faintly echoed in the tunnel.
"Let the Los Angeles residents indulge in their league's handouts tonight. I'll personally call headquarters in New York first thing tomorrow morning."