One game had made him a god.
The day after the game in Orlando, basketball media across America went completely crazy.
The Boston Globe devoted an entire front page to him, alongside a huge photo of Garnett blocking Grant. The headline was brutally direct: "The Celtics' new 19-year-old Wang! On national television, he toyed with the Magic's defense!"
On ESPN's flagship show, a commentator practically sprayed spit as he roared, "23 points, 12 rebounds, 6 assists! Forget his damn high school background. After Larry Bird, Boston has finally found its next all-around All-Star, the one they were destined to have!"
Under that avalanche of praise, the 19-year-old Garnett got completely carried away.
During morning shooting practice, the rookie loudly and animatedly recounted to every teammate who passed how he had "shot" All-Defensive Second Team selection Grant "straight into a nursing home." While changing his shoes, he had even started whispering to Bo Outlaw about whether he might get a chance to show his face at All-Star Weekend that year.
All of Boston had succumbed to a feverish restlessness, yet inside the Celtics' executive office, the silence was almost frightening.
Lin Qi sat in a leather chair, a thick stack of sports papers praising Garnett piled beside him, but he had not spared them a glance. He merely tilted his head slightly, his deep gaze passing through the floor-to-ceiling window as he coldly watched the rookie grinning, bouncing, and hopping with excitement on the practice court.
"Rick." Lin Qi withdrew his gaze and stopped fiddling with his coffee spoon. "Lock the door."
Rick Adelman rose from the seat opposite him and reached back to firmly lock the president's office door.
"Kevin put up 23, 12, and 6 yesterday, and the media's gone crazy." Lin Qi got straight to the point. "I want your honest opinion. If we follow public opinion and keep starting him, what happens?"
Adelman gave a bitter chuckle and shook his head helplessly. "If results don't matter, you can experiment with him however you like. But if you want to win, absolutely not right now. Lin Qi, Kevin is still just an unfinished prospect. He simply can't replace what our starting big men do."
Adelman set down his cup and rapped hard twice on the tactics board. "We rely on Dino Radja to manufacture points inside. If Kevin keeps starting, either you sacrifice results and pay for his trial and error with losses, or you can only use him as a high-end blue-collar player, doing the dirtiest, most exhausting screening and boxing out. I believe he can do it well, but that isn't what you want, is it?"
"Even if you want to play three big men and put him at small forward, his three-pointer isn't consistent enough to space the floor! Not only would Kevin struggle, but creating offense through Radja in the low post would become even harder. With his talent, he ought to be a centerpiece in this league. But in the starting lineup, he'd only become a jack of all trades, master of none."
Lin Qi's eyes immediately lit up. Adelman's tactical breakdown had completely confirmed his deepest concerns.
He walked to the window, watching the young wolf cub outside laughing arrogantly, and a cold smile touched his lips. "Rick, I have an idea that everyone will think is crazy when they first hear it."
The following morning, in the team's film room.
The entire team was present. When Lin Qi stood before the tactics board and announced, "Kevin won't be starting from the next game onward," the air in the room instantly froze.
Garnett was utterly stunned, his wolfish eyes unable to conceal his hurt and defiance. "Mr. Lin... I played pretty well yesterday. What exactly did I do wrong?"
"You did nothing wrong. Quite the opposite, you did too well. So well that I can't keep wasting you."
Lin Qi switched off the projector. Ignoring Garnett's wounded feelings, he turned and slowly swept his hawklike gaze across Bo Outlaw, Finley, and the other reserves in the back of the film room.
"And you lot, get your damn heads up." Lin Qi's voice carried unquestionable authority.
The reserves in the back, normally accustomed to meager pay, dirty work, and scraps of playing time, stiffened and straightened their backs in unison.
"On my team, you aren't called reserves. From today onward, you're Boston's 'second unit.'"
Lin Qi planted both hands on the table and leaned forward, giving these fringe players an overwhelming sense of dignity. "I won't leave you to fend for yourselves, and I certainly won't send you out there as cannon fodder just to burn time. Rick will design an entirely new set of plays for you, every bit as good as the starters'. When you're on the court, you're the main characters too."
At the words "won't leave you to fend for yourselves" and "plays for you," Bo Outlaw and the others' eyes instantly reddened. In the NBA of the nineties, having the top executive personally stand up to demand tactics and dignity for the reserves was enough to make them fight to the death on the court!
"And Kevin will be the centerpiece of your second unit, the spearhead of this army."
Lin Qi turned back and fixed his eyes on Garnett again. "Our starters already have a winning formula, and for now, you can't replace any of them. So I'm putting you in the second unit. Adelman will design more plays for you than for anyone else on the team. And I have one more requirement... when the second unit is on the court, the ball must go through Kevin's hands on every possession!"
"Every possession. Even if you get stripped the moment you catch it, the ball still has to come to you first! Understood?"
Garnett froze.
This was no demotion to the bench. With an iron fist and absolute control of the ball, Lin Qi was personally carving out an exclusive territory within the Celtics where Garnett could do whatever he wanted!
The resentment in those wolfish eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by intense excitement. Yet the stubborn competitiveness in his bones still made him grit his teeth and ask one last question. "Mr. Lin, when can I get back into the starting lineup?"
Watching the boy whose fighting spirit had been ignited, Lin Qi smiled like a cunning old fox.
"You want to start again? Fine. The condition is simple."
Lin Qi's gaze slowly swept across Sam Cassell, Jones, and the other starters before he finally spoke.
"When you lead your brothers in the 'second unit' to beat the starters in a team scrimmage, beat them until they concede... you won't need to ask me. The starting spot will naturally be yours."
A naked provocation. An unmistakable declaration of war.
"Fine!"
Garnett shot to his feet, the lean muscles along his long frame instantly tightening.
He took a large step forward. Under the film room's dim lights, his 2.11-meter frame cast a broad shadow that almost swallowed Cassell whole.
He lowered his head and jabbed his right index finger hard into Cassell's chest, his teeth dazzlingly white.
"Sam, and all you old guys sitting in those starting spots."
The film room instantly fell deathly silent.
Like a young lone wolf that had marked its prey, Garnett swept his gaze across Cassell, Jones, and Anderson before finally fixing it hard on Radja's and Johnson's faces.
"Next scrimmage, I'm bringing the second unit, and we're going to beat you until you're crying for your mommies."
He slapped his own chest hard with a muffled thump.
"Don't expect me to respect my elders or go easy on the kids. I've got my eyes on those spots under your asses. Get ready. I'm coming to take them myself!"
Dead silence.
A second later, Cassell suddenly laughed.
On that perpetually odd-looking face, his grin grew fiercer, but his eyes stabbed back like knives.
"All right, kid."
Cassell slowly stood and flung the towel from his shoulder onto the back of his chair. He was a full head shorter than Garnett, but as they stood chest to chest, he gave no ground whatsoever.
"Your teeth haven't even all come in, and you already want to bite?"
Cassell raised his head, meeting Garnett's devouring stare with a sneer.
"You want a starting spot? First, stop my midrange jumper in practice. Then learn how not to get knocked out of the paint by one bump from Dino's ass. After that, you can talk to me about starting."
Radja, the low-post killer sitting nearby, had not said a word throughout.
He merely lowered his head and unhurriedly tightened his wrist wrap, turn by turn. Then he raised his eyes and coldly crooked a finger at Garnett.
"Come on."
The unspoken message hit harder than a punch: If you've got the guts, step over me.
Boom!
The powder keg in the film room exploded.
The five starters looked at Garnett with cold smiles, while fire gradually kindled in the eyes of his brothers on the bench.
In this league where the strong devoured the weak, nobody needed an obedient boy who followed every step.
If you wanted a centerpiece role, media praise was useless, and management's promises were often nothing but wastepaper.
The spotlight could be left to the performers.
The positions that truly mattered would only be left to madmen chasing excellence.
Watching Radja's crooked finger, the fierceness on Garnett's face did not turn to anger. Instead, his mouth slowly spread into a mischievous, dangerous grin.
He understood.
These old guys were not humiliating him.
They were giving him a final ultimatum in the most manly way possible.
Get on the practice court.
Put your life on the line and take it.
Standing at the head of the room, Lin Qi watched these thoroughly fired-up players, their faces flushed, itching to charge straight into the gym and go at it. At last, he smiled silently.
First, he had completely won over the reserves with the "second unit" designation and absolute control of the ball.
Then, with an internal wager to "topple the starters," he had poured the most explosive fuel for growth into Kevin Garnett.
To thrive in the big league's brutal paint, simply being a genius cherished and protected in everyone's hands was nowhere near enough.
Even someone as strong as Michael Jordan had not entered the league already seated on a throne. He, too, had been crushed by the Celtics, dragged into the mud to brawl with the Bad Boys over and over, losing until his eyes reddened, losing until the whole world questioned whether he could actually win.
There was no shortage of geniuses here.
What this place lacked were monsters who could get back up after being shattered and grind their broken bones into blades, one by one.
When the day came that Garnett, covered in scars and with a head full of understanding, took back the starting spot with his own hands...
Only then would this high schooler the entire league was anticipating truly grow into the ultimate monster, one even Lin Qi himself had never seen.