June 16, Boston, New Garden.
This basketball mecca, bearing the banners of nineteen championships, was transformed into a stifling sea of green tonight. An hour before the game began, 20,000 Boston fans in green T-shirts had already created a massive roar that ripped through the arena's roof.
The deafening roar of "Beat LA!" echoed like thunder beneath the dome of the New Garden.
Trailing 2-3 in the series, the Celtics are on the brink of elimination. This is a do-or-die game with no way out; a win means a Game 7, a loss means watching the Los Angeles Lakers lift the trophy on their home court.
"Beep!!!"
The opening whistle blows, and Game 6 of the NBA Finals officially begins!
The Lakers ' first possession followed their familiar pattern: Michael Jordan received the ball at the top of the key.
He was just about to steady himself and take his first step as usual when a slight, almost imperceptible pause occurred in his movements. He took a deep breath, and his previously steady breathing rhythm abruptly stopped halfway through, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.
That pause of a fraction of a second might not even be considered a mistake, but against a defensive instinct like Gary Payton's, it was as dazzling as a searchlight in the dark.
Gary Payton pounced on him.
He completely disregarded defensive positioning, and his defense tonight was even closer and more unrestrained than in previous games. Gary Payton keenly sensed Jordan's discomfort in his ribs, so he raised his defensive center of gravity high, and his aggressive hands constantly groped and subtly pulled around Jordan's right side.
Jordan tried to get away with a change of direction, but his lateral movement slowed down significantly. Gary Payton seized the opportunity, stuck to him, and delivered a hard physical impact to Jordan's right ribs with his solid chest.
"Hiss..." Jordan's face suddenly turned pale, he gritted his teeth, and the basketball in his hands instantly went out of control.
Gary Payton poked the ball away, and the two players scrambled for it, both falling to the floor. Gary Payton aggressively tackled Jordan, his elbow subtly pressing against Jordan's chest, clutching the ball to his chest, and then yelled for a timeout at the referee.
The referee blew his whistle, awarding possession to Boston.
Gary Payton got up from the floor, but he didn't try to help Jordan up. The hot-tempered point guard lowered his head and glared at Jordan, who was still on the floor, supporting himself with one hand and breathing heavily. His bulging eyes were filled with undisguised provocation and ferocity.
At this moment, time seemed to rewind to the 1996 NBA Finals, and that classic wide-eyed stare was recreated.
"You're as soft as a woman, Michael," Gary Payton spat out his mouthguard, spewing out the harsh trash talk from his large mouth. "You can't even protect a ball. If you really have broken your bones, go back to Chicago and cry to your mother, don't get in my way."
Faced with this vicious and incisive provocation, Jordan merely glanced coldly at Gary Payton, stood up without a word, but his steps toward the backcourt were visibly heavy.
Gary Payton's steal and provocation ignited the powder keg at New Garden and sounded the horn for Boston's all-out counterattack.
Back on offense, possession of the ball fell to Grant Hill.
Facing Sean Marion's defense, Hill lowered his center of gravity at the top of the key.
On this life-or-death night, Hill finally broke free of his shackles. Tonight, Hill shifted his attention away from his ankle, forgot about his past injury, and focused all his attention on the defender in the purple and gold jersey in front of him.
He dribbled between his legs twice in a row, the sound of the basketball hitting the floor dull and powerful. Marion's attention was highly focused, his eyes fixed on Hill's shoulder, ready to counter his signature crossover.
Suddenly, Hill pushed off the ground with his left foot.
The rubber soles of the sneakers rubbed against the wooden floor, producing an extremely grating "squeak" sound.
There were no unnecessary feints, no complicated changes of direction. It was a pure acceleration start relying on core explosive power.
Marion saw Hill's movement, and his brain issued the command to slide backward. But his body's reaction speed couldn't keep up with Hill's explosive power. The instant he was about to move his foot, Hill had already squeezed past his shoulder and cut into the penalty area like a sharp knife.
That's incredibly fast!
Even Shaquille O'Neal O'Neal, who was guarding the paint, hadn't fully reacted yet. His massive body had just turned halfway around, preparing to block the breakthrough route.
But Hill showed no sign of slowing down, leaping high into the air to meet O'Neal's 300-pound weight.
In the instant before the two were about to collide, Hill displayed exceptional aerial combat skills. Instead of dodging O'Neal's body, he actively sought contact, using his shoulder to bump O'Neal in mid-air. Using the recoil, Hill executed a remarkably smooth layup in mid-air, not only avoiding O'Neal's overwhelming block but also using the hang time from his descent to backhand the ball off the backboard and into the net!
"Beep..."
The referee blew the whistle, two points were scored, O'Neal committed a foul, and he was awarded a free throw!
Hill landed steadily after scoring. Instead of his usual elegant smile and retreat, he unusually pounded his chest and let out a hoarse roar towards the dome of the New Garden.
"Is this your defense?! It's too slow!" Hill yelled at Marion.
After two years of suppressed talent, it has finally been revived after the baptism of Tianwang Mountain!
But this is just the beginning.
When Grant Hill repeatedly tore apart the Lakers ' perimeter defense with his first step, using physical contact, the Lakers were forced to begin a full-scale collapse.
This, in turn, created the most comfortable space for Boston's other two stars to play one-on-one.
In the latter part of the first quarter, Pierce received the ball in the left corner. Facing Quentin Richardson, who was unable to get back on defense, Pierce did not hesitate at all. He abandoned those cumbersome probing steps and decisively took a pull-up three-pointer. The basketball swished through the net without even causing a Nets.
Early in the second quarter, Garnett had the ball on the right high post. Facing Charles Barkley's defense, he made a simple triple threat fake, and as Barkley's center of gravity shifted slightly backward, Garnett pulled up from the spot.
With his long arms and slightly backward shooting motion, Barkley could only watch helplessly as Garnett shot the Admiral, even with his best effort in the jump.
"Whoosh!"
A solid mid-range shot.
Penetrating drives, cold-blooded three-pointers, unstoppable mid-range jumpers.
After a disastrous Game 5 and a painful transformation, the Boston players completely took over the game in the crucial Game 6.
Throughout the first half, the Lakers were on the back foot.
Jordan, suffering from severe pain in his ribs and Gary Payton's extremely grueling close-quarters combat, only managed 3 of 11 shots made in the first half, scoring just 8 points. While O'Neal remained unstoppable in the paint, racking up 17 points with sheer power, he alone was simply not enough to compensate for the offensive deficit caused by the Boston Celtics' all-around outburst.
"Whoosh!"
With Pierce hitting a difficult buzzer-beating mid-range jumper over Marion's block in the final second of the first half, the scoreboard closed at 62-48.
Boston went into halftime with a commanding 14-point lead.
The New Garden has become a wildly erupting volcano, its roar nearly drowning out the guests who have traveled from afar to Staples.