Early November, 5 a. m.
The sky over Boston was still a deep, leaden gray.
A few hours later, Lin Qi was to board the flight.
But before heading to the airport, Lin Qi had the driver take him to the training facility at the New Garden.
Pushing open the heavy soundproof door, the monotonous yet powerful sound of the ball hitting the ground echoed through the empty stadium.
Lin Qi stood on the sidelines, quietly watching the distant half of the court.
Grant Hill was standing on a mat that looked like a ball cut in half. He stood on one leg, his body swaying slightly, trying to maintain his balance as he caught the heavy medicine ball that the trainer passed to him, and then quickly made a shooting fake.
There was no jumping involved; the player relied entirely on the strength of their waist, abdomen, and legs to maintain their balance.
"Ten more, Grant! Control your knees, don't let them buckle inwards!"
On the sidelines, a lean, middle-aged man holding a tactical board was shouting loudly. He was Mark Verstegen, a strength and rehabilitation expert that Lin Qi had specially brought from State of Arizona.
"One hundred, Mark. Any more?" Hill panted, sweat dripping from his muscular arms onto the wooden floor, but his eyes shone with an eagerness to get back on the court.
"That's enough, go and rest."
Hearing Verstegen's whistle, Hill let out a sigh of relief and plopped down on the floor.
Seeing Lin Qi approaching, Verstegen and Dr. Thomas Clanton, the chief orthopedic surgeon standing beside him, went to greet him.
"Boss, so early?" Dr. Clanton handed Lin Qi a freshly printed MRI report.
"Come check on your progress." Lin Qi ignored the medical report and looked directly at the two experts. " Thomas, don't use those complicated medical terms. Just tell me, how far has his ankle recovered?"
"Judging from the condition of the bones, there's absolutely no problem."
Dr. Clanton chuckled, pointing to Hill in the distance. "We removed those metal pins left Detroit from Detroit last summer. After 16 months of extreme rest, that bone has completely healed. In fact, judging from last month's X-rays, his bone density is even better than before the injury. That foot alone is perfectly healthy now."
Lin Qi nodded in satisfaction, then turned to the strength and conditioning coach Verstegen: "And what about you, Mark? The exercises he was doing just now seemed a bit different from traditional rehabilitation exercises. Have you been teaching him these things for the past year?"
"I'm helping him relearn how to exert force, boss."
Verstegen flipped the tactical board over and pointed to a simple human figure diagram on it.
" Hill used to rely too much on his Achilles tendons and calf power when he played. Every time he forced a change of direction, all the pressure was concentrated on his ankles, which is one of the reasons for his injuries."
Verstegen drew two circles on the sketch at the waist and hips.
"Over the past year, I haven't let him do any intense contact training. I've just had him practice single-leg balance on various unstable mats. Now, he's learned to use his glutes and core muscles to distribute the pressure on his ankles. Simply put, although he may not jump as high as before, his lower body is much more stable during breakthroughs and deceleration than it was at his peak."
"And shooting," a shooting coach nearby interjected with satisfaction. "Boss, you specifically instructed him last year to practice three-pointers even while in a wheelchair, and he persevered. For the first six months, his feet couldn't touch the ground, so he would sit in a chair and shoot 500 balls every day. Over the past year, he's taken nearly 300,000 three-pointers. Now, his corner three-point shooting percentage in practice is close to Pierce's. He can not only drive to the basket but also provide outside scoring opportunities."
Lin Qi looked at Grant Hill, who was sitting on the sidelines applying ice while keeping his eyes fixed on the basket, and finally felt relieved.
"Well done, guys." Lin Qi crossed his arms. "One last question. Now that his bones have healed and his three-point shot has improved, when can he officially play?"
Upon hearing this question, Verstegen and Clanton exchanged a glance, their expressions turning very serious.
"Medically, he can be vaccinated anytime, even tonight," Dr. Clanton said.
"But that's not quite right," Verstegen chimed in, his tone very cautious. "Boss, he hasn't played a real game in a year and a half. All the balance and shooting he's been practicing now is under no defensive pressure. If we rush him back now, once he's on the court facing intense physical contact, his brain will subconsciously use the wrong form to protect his injured ankle. Then all our hard work over the past year and a half will be wasted."
"He needs time to adapt to the real pace of a match." Verstegen held up three fingers. "I suggest giving him another three months. During these three months, I want his sparring partners to give him targeted training every day, so that his current power generation habits completely become muscle memory. He must overcome his psychological barrier of fearing injury."
"Three months?" Lin Qi quickly went through the schedule in his mind. "That would be the end of February or the beginning of March next year. The regular season is almost over, about a month before the playoffs begin?"
"Yes, boss. A month before the playoffs." Verstegen nodded. "That's the safest time to return."
Lin Qi looked at the empty arena and let out a long sigh.
One month before the playoffs.
This timing is actually perfect. By next March, when the regular season enters its most crucial final stretch, all teams in the league will be fatigued, and opponents will have thoroughly analyzed Garnett and Pierce's tactics. Just when everyone thinks they've figured out the Celtics ' weaknesses, putting Grant Hill, who has developed a three-point shot, into the starting lineup will be a huge boost to the team's strength.
"Do as you say." Lin Qi patted Verstegen on the shoulder. "For the next three months, stick to the old rules: no media interviews except for the medical team. Let him focus on his preparations."
Lin Qi walked to the sidelines and handed Hill a dry towel.
"I really wish I could be on the court tonight to help Chris Paul and the others relieve some of the pressure." Hill took the towel and looked up at Lin Qi.
"Don't worry, Grant. It's just the regular season, they'll handle it."
Lin Qi looked at the superstar he had protected for a year and a half, his tone gentle yet firm.
"You stay here and relax during these last three months of sparring training. A few more months won't make a difference."
Lin Qi turned and walked towards the exit of the stadium, then looked back and smiled.
"Next March, before the playoffs. Then, show everyone what you've accomplished during this time."