The whistle for the second half suddenly blew.
The Chicago Bulls' starting five returned to the court, still sporting those same five ruthless faces that left people breathless.
But the young Boston Celtics realized in just one possession Jackson during the fifteen-minute halftime break, Phil Zen Master had quietly elevated the game from "normal" to "hellish."
Sam Cassell was the first to feel the change.
He had just received the serve and was preparing to advance when Harper's nearly two-meter-tall frame aggressively closed in. In the first half, Harper had simply been playing defensively, but now he was using his hard chest to apply a relentless, full-court press. He wasn't gambling on a steal; he was simply using his broad frame to stick to Sam Cassell's dribbling space, moving laterally from the backcourt close to him. Sam Cassell had to wait a full nine seconds before he could get the ball across the center line.
With little time left to organize the offense, Sam Cassell was about to call a pick-and-roll Pippen's terrifyingly long arm had already covered him from the weak side. Sam Cassell tried to force a lob, but Radja was already firmly behind Dennis Rodman with an almost shameless fronting maneuver. With the 24-second shot clock about to expire, the Boston Celtics, in a panicked pass on the perimeter, could only hastily take a shot.
Bang!
The basketball bounced off the rim.
Dennis Rodman didn't even jump; it was as if he had anticipated the ball's trajectory, positioning himself a step ahead to easily grab the defensive rebound. The Chicago Bulls ' counterattack flowed like lightning. Harper quickly advanced and pushed the ball to the right wing, where Jordan received it, backed down, and with a thud, forced Jones back half a step. Then, he executed a miraculous move that any American fan could miraculously execute with their eyes closed... a turnaround fadeaway, and an incredibly long-hanging shot.
Swish! 54 to 48, the point difference was instantly whittled down to just 6 points.
The thunderous roar of the FleetCenter Arena finally cracked at this moment.
This was merely the prelude to the " Chicago Massacre."
Lin Qi stood on the sidelines, clutching the tactics board, and finally understood.
In the first half, the Chicago Bulls were observing, watching coldly as the young Celtics revealed all their cards, one by one. Now that they've seen their cards, the dynasty machine is beginning to bare its bloodied teeth.
Without hesitation, Lin Qi turned to look at Rick Adelman. The two exchanged only one glance, and Adelman immediately turned and roared and waved towards the bench.
The Boston Celtics ' ultimate weapon: endless switching on defense at the forward position!
Eddie Jones, Michael Finley, Bo Outlaw, Kevin Garnett, P.J. Brown.
Even the shortest one Jones, is 1.98 meters tall.
Five pairs of long arms that can block out the sky, five pairs of fast legs that can sweep horizontally, five steel young men who can make an unreasonable switch the moment a pick and roll occurs!
When the five men stood on the court in unison, the roar of the FleetCenter Arena noticeably and abruptly stopped.
It was effective at first. The Chicago Bulls tried to execute their signature triangle pass and cut for two consecutive possessions, but as soon as the ball left Jordan's hands, the Celtics ' defense shifted like a giant spider web. Pippen cut out after a screen, only to be met by the tall and long-armed Finley; Kukoč tried to receive the ball at the high post, but P.J. Brown was already there like a wall. This near-small-ball lineup used its superior mobility to completely disrupt the Chicago Bulls ' passing and cutting rhythm for several possessions.
But Phil Jackson, the " Zen Master," simply sat on the bench, slowly chewing gum, and then made an extremely simple gesture towards the court: reduce passing and cutting, call out star players.
The Chicago Bulls stopped focusing on complex systems and began to use their purest and most desperate individual abilities to overwhelm the Celtics ' defense.
Jordan called for the ball on the right wing, facing off against Finley who had switched onto him. Without any fancy probing, Jordan directly back-rammed Finley, using his body, honed to the point of steel by an entire summer in the gym, to deliver two heavy blows, shoving Finley like a bulldozer into the low corner. He then followed up with his signature beautiful turnaround fadeaway. Finley desperately lunged forward, but his fingertips were always just a cruel inch away from Jordan's ball.
Swish! The basketball goes through the net cleanly.
Turning back, Pippen descended on the left wing, facing the boundless passion of Outlaw. Outlaw possessed wingspan and explosive speed, his mind consumed by the thrill of swatting superstars to the ground. But Pippen merely glanced coldly at this hothead, lowered his center of gravity, and feigned a drive. Just as Outlaw, in his extreme excitement, leaped off the ground, Pippen strangely gathered the ball, rose up, and deliberately sought contact with the ball, executing a wide-ranging layup in mid-air while smoothly tapping the basketball into the hoop.
Beep! The whistle blows, and there's an additional penalty!
The Boston Celtics ' modern switching defense can break down tactics and dismantle systems, but in the end, you still need an ordinary person to face Jordan and Pippen. And that person simply can't defend them. This is what makes the Chicago Bulls so unreasonable: you use futuristic thinking to dismantle their modern system, and they use the greatest individual talent in history to smash your thinking to pieces.
Once the Chicago Bulls got serious, they showed no signs of stopping. Harper pressed them relentlessly throughout the game, stifling their offense, while Jordan and Pippen took turns acting like venomous snakes, pressuring the primary passer.
Young Finley panicked under the double team and was about to jump to pass the ball when Jordan's terrifyingly long hand, like an eagle's claw, forcefully slammed the ball down in mid-air!
A mistake leads to a counterattack; another mistake results in being swallowed whole again.
Dennis Rodman, with his uncanny anticipation, dominated every long rebound that bounced off the line. Whether it was Radja or Wesley in the rotation, they all felt suffocated under the Chicago Bulls' suddenly tightening long-armed net. The Celtics' proud defensive fast breaks and run-and-gun offense in the first half were completely disrupted.
In just one quarter, the offense and defense were completely reversed. The Chicago Bulls swallowed up the 8-point lead that the Celtics had painstakingly built. With a 25-10 run in the quarter, the Chicago Bulls gave the young Boston team a cruel lesson.
What tormented Garnett the most was Dennis Rodman's insane psychological exploitation. That madman with fluorescent green hair not only grabbed offensive rebounds over Garnett's head repeatedly, but also used his thin, hard body, as stiff as iron chains, to press firmly against Garnett's lower back, occasionally leaning close to the 19-year-old rookie's ear to spew out a string of vicious and vulgar trash talk.
Garnett's eyes were completely bloodshot and red, and his right fist was clenched tightly several times, with the veins on the back of his hand bulging.
" Kevin! Ignore that lunatic! He's just waiting for you to do something stupid!" Sam Cassell, his eyes red, grabbed him tightly, his voice hoarse from shouting. Mitchell, with his arm covered in bruises from the fight, forcibly dragged Garnett back to the bench. Garnett gritted his teeth, swallowing back the anger that was about to explode in his chest.
The final whistle blew, and the numbers on the huge scoreboard were cold and glaring...
Chicago Bulls 71: Celtics 64. Chicago Bulls take a 7-point lead.
The Celtics' bench was deathly silent.
The young men who were still dreaming of slaying the god at halftime were now all panting with their heads down, their eyes filled with helplessness and confusion after hitting the ceiling of a historically strong team for the first time.
Lin Qi walked to the bench, his face grim. His "Slaughtering Bulls Guide," which he had practiced for two days, had been torn apart in this round by two unbeatable superstars using the most primitive one-on-one tactics. But when his gaze swept over the group of young men who were stunned but still gritted their teeth and did not fall, and then looked at the scoreboard, the solemnity in his eyes was suddenly replaced by an extremely fervent wildness.
7 points. He was relentlessly pressured and dominated by the Chicago Bulls, the most terrifying team in the league, for an entire quarter, and was repeatedly targeted and tortured by Jordan Pippen.
These kids are only down by 7 points.
"All of you, lift your heads up!"
Lin Qi slammed his hand on the tactical board with a loud bang, instantly waking up the entire bench. The young players jolted and all looked at him.
"I know you're feeling bad right now, going from an 8-point lead to a 7-point deficit, being dominated for a full twelve minutes." Lin Qi bent down, staring at them, his dark eyes burning with a gambler's rage. "But have you idiots noticed something? Chicago used their most ruthless run of the season, they unleashed their most absurd one-on-one offense... They pulled out all the stops, and they're only up by 7 points!"
The young people were stunned, and their previously unfocused gazes began to refocus in that instant.
"How many teams in this league, after getting blown up by the Chicago Bulls, were already down by 20 or 30 points by the end of the third quarter, and simply surrendered?!" Lin Qi's voice suddenly rose, soaring above the arena, "But what about you? You still have a chance to win!"
Lin Qi loosened his tie, his eyes blazing with a frenzied ambition. "One last quarter! I don't care what the newspapers say tomorrow, I don't care if we win or lose tonight! I want you to use those last twelve minutes to tell Michael Jordan, to tell everyone watching on TV across America... those mad dogs of Boston, even if they lose, they'll bite a piece of flesh off the god of football! At any cost!"
With a loud bang, the tense atmosphere in front of the substitutes' bench was completely ignited.
Garnett suddenly stood up, slammed the towel he was using to wipe his sweat onto the wooden floor, revealing his gleaming white teeth.
The final whistle blew in the fourth quarter, instantly echoing throughout the arena. Garnett took off his jacket, and this time he didn't even glance at Pippen. Instead, he pushed through the crowd and stared intently at the number 91 with his fluorescent green hair.
The instant they stepped onto the center circle, two muscular and wild bodies collided violently without warning.
Bang!
The heavy, muffled thud of flesh colliding was like the hammer blow that signaled the start of the final battle.
Dennis Rodman was knocked back half a step, but instead grinned, revealing a bloodthirsty and cruel smile, "Hey, soft rookie, you can't steal my rebound with that kind of strength."
Garnett looked down at him, his eyes gleaming with a wolfish ferocity, and gritted his teeth as he replied, "Then I'll step over your dead body tonight, you old bastard."
This fierce battle, destined to shatter and reshape the very bones and souls of these young people, has finally entered its toughest and bloodiest phase: hand-to-hand combat.