It's mid-December.
The winter of 2001 was colder and more oppressive than ever before.
The disaster three months ago cast a heavy shadow over the entire United States society. And Boston, the departure point of the two hijacked flights, still feels the somber and mournful atmosphere.
Walking the streets of Back Bay or North End, every brownstone building is adorned with the American flag. Subway stations and the airport are teeming with heavily armed security personnel. People hurry by, wrapped in their coats against the cold wind, their faces wary yet numb.
In this harsh winter, Boston desperately need an outlet for their emotions.
As a result, everyone's attention turned to the New Garden in Boston.
In this NBA season, if you open Sports Illustrated or turn on ESPN, you'll see a league landscape that resembles a "Tale of Two Cities".
On the warm West Coast, the Los Angeles Lakers are putting on one of the most spectacular performances of the early 21st century.
Michael Jordan, Jason Kidd, Charles Barkley, Shaquille O'Neal O'Neal, and Sean Marion. This lineup, whose fame and on-paper strength are enough to make any head coach laugh in the middle of the night, is sweeping across the entire league like an autumn wind sweeping away fallen leaves.
The media called them " Hollywood's Dream Team." Their games were like a superstar tour, each one one less to see. Kidd's Magic -like no-look passes, Marion's tomahawk dunks soaring through the fast break, Jordan's textbook-perfect fadeaway jumper in the low post, and O'Neal's slam dunks that crushed opponents in the paint, not to mention the occasional resurgence of legendary veterans.
David Stern, in his New York commissioner's office, couldn't stop smiling as he watched the Los Angeles Lakers' consistently high viewership ratings. During this period of economic and emotional downturn, the Lakers were the NBA's most eye-catching money-printing machine.
In stark contrast to the glitz and glamour of Los Angeles, Boston lies in the icy wilderness of the northeastern United States.
From December 16th to December 23rd, Artest and Jackson remained indefinitely suspended. During these ten days, the Celtics played four games against the Knicks, Heat, Pacers, and Pistons —all formidable defensive teams from the Eastern Conference.
Ben Wallace was the team's anchor on the defensive end, but on the offensive end, his presence was a double-edged sword.
In fact, ever since Big Ben was officially promoted to the starting lineup last season, coaches across the league have keenly seized on this weakness. They can leave Big Ben, who has no shooting ability, wide open without restraint, and use the extra defensive stalwart to double-team Gary Payton, Kevin Garnett, or Chris Paul Pierce.
Over the course of ten days, this tactic was executed to its fullest extent by the Eastern Conference's "meat grinder" teams.
Garnett and Pierce faced a double-team of two or three players almost every game.
However, this suffocating defensive pressure did not break Boston's two key players.
Instead, it became a form of quenching.
Facing those aggressive double-teams who went straight for the player, Garnett's high post playmaking vision became increasingly refined. He could always find his cutting teammates in the gaps between players, just before they lost their balance. Meanwhile, Pierce, through repeated pulling and being scratched on his arm every day, developed mature back-to-the-basket ball protection and the ability to forcefully break through defenses.
They withstood the side effects of Big Ben "offensive black hole" and underwent a tactical transformation in this distorted offensive space, being forced to develop the ability to handle double teams.
On the defensive end, Raja Bell suffered the most.
In these four games, Rick Carlisle kept Bell on the court the entire time, guarding Allan Houston, Reggie Miller, and Richard Hamilton. He seemed tireless. He was knocked down by solid screens, got up, and continued to chase. He was elbowed in the ribs, clutched his chest, gasped for breath, and continued to stick to the defense.
In those ten days, Boston achieved a record of three wins and one loss. However, in the three games they won, the point difference was no more than 5 points.
The entire American media was mocking Boston. An ESPN commentator sarcastically remarked on his show, " The Celtics ' game is like an ugly mud wrestling match. They might win a few lousy games in the Eastern Conference with their superstars' brute force, but when they face the true kings, the Los Angeles Lakers, on Christmas Day, they will lose without a doubt."
But Boston fans didn't see it that way. Every home game was packed to capacity at the New Garden. Boston's blue-collar workers roared their hearts out for this battered team from the stands. This rough, tenacious, and never-give-up basketball perfectly matched the city's psychological needs in the aftermath of the disaster.
Behind the home team's bench in the stadium, two pairs of eyes have undergone a transformation over the past ten days, from disdain to irritation, and then to deep guilt.
Those were Ron Artest and Stephen Jackson, dressed in expensive suits and ordered by the team to sit courtside at every game.
At the beginning of the suspension, they didn't care. They even gloated, thinking that without them, the flank defense would collapse sooner or later, and Lin Qi and Rick Carlisle would beg them to come back.
But after these four intense physical battles, watching Garnett and Pierce struggle to survive under double teams, hearing the dull thuds of muscles colliding, and seeing their teammates fall time and time again, something within them completely wavered.
December 22nd, fourth quarter against the Indiana Pacers.
Raja Bell was heavily hit in the chin by the opposing center's screen while on defense, falling to the ground with blood trickling from his mouth. The team doctor rushed over, but Bell pushed the doctor away, wiped the blood from his mouth haphazardly with his jersey, stumbled to his feet, yelled at the referee, and turned back to stick to the opposing player with the ball.
At that moment, Artest, sitting on the sidelines, unconsciously clenched his fists.
"If I were on the court..." Artest said, head down, "That center who set the screen would be on a stretcher right now. Garnett and Pierce wouldn't have to be surrounded and bitten like mad dogs by three guys every night, and Bell wouldn't have to suffer that loss."
Jackson, sitting next to him, didn't say anything, but the nonchalance and arrogance in his eyes had completely disappeared.
Instead, a depressing silence prevailed.