In late January, the Boston Celtics flew to Minnesota to play against Target Center.
In the eyes of the media and most people, this was not a tough battle, but a stopgap measure delivered to the Celtics' doorstep. Even the local Minnesota commentators jokingly said before the game that the Minnesota Timberwolves, who missed out on Garnett, would probably help Boston regain their confidence tonight.
After three quarters, it was indeed the case. The Boston Celtics led by a full 13 points. The young players even executed several nationally televised fast breaks. In one defensive play, Garnett single-handedly drove from the paint to the three-point line and delivered his signature block, swatting Minnesota Timberwolves star Tom Gugliotta's three-point attempt into the third row of the stands, eliciting wild screams from a few Boston Celtics fans in the away game.
Lin Qi sat on the sidelines, his shoulders, which had been tense for four days, finally relaxed.
Then, the fourth quarter arrived.
That was the most frustrating and powerless quarter of the game Lin Qi had ever witnessed in his life.
The 13-point lead, like sand in an hourglass, was gradually worn away by the physical clashes.
With two minutes remaining, the Boston Celtics led by only one point. With possession, it was a decisive set play that could seal the victory.
Sam Cassell dribbled the ball across half-court and waved for everyone to spread out. The timer above the Target Center ticked away second by second.
The ball was first lobbed to Dino Radja in the low post, the Croatia player tightly marking his marker with his back to goal. But as soon as he exerted force, Lin Qi noticed something was wrong... Radja's foot wouldn't move. Over thirty minutes of low-post physical battles had completely drained the Europe king's stamina. He tried to turn over, but something seemed to get stuck in his waterlogged left knee, slowing his movement by a fraction of a second, almost causing him to lose the ball, and he could only awkwardly spit it out again.
The ball passed to Finley at the top of the key. Finley tried to drive, but the opposing defender seemed to have memorized the script, completely blocking his driving habits that he had developed easily in the past two months. Even when he tried to shoot, the defender's hand was right in his eyes. The defense was like a welded iron wall, Finley couldn't find any space to shoot in the air. Before landing, he could only hastily pass the ball out.
The ball reached Person in the corner, and seeing the defender close in, Person had no choice but to pass it further in. The ball circled around and, with five seconds left, reached Garnett in the high post.
As Garnett caught the ball, the Minnesota Timberwolves veteran subtly nudged him in the lower back with his hip.
Just this once.
Garnett's back, which had been worn down by a month of back-to-back games, suddenly went limp. In a rush and panic, he could only hastily pass the hot potato back to Sam Cassell, who was facing away from the basket, with only one second left on the shot clock.
The buzzer of the 24-second violation shrilled and tore through the stadium.
Possession changes.
Turning back, Minnesota's Gugliotta drew a double team in the corner and made a precise pass, which was then delivered by an unknown blue-collar forward who, with a final second, sank a cool turnaround jumper.
The red light behind the backboard came on.
The Boston Celtics lost.
The away game locker room was deathly quiet.
Garnett covered his face with a towel, his chest heaving violently, sweat pouring down his cheeks.
Radja was bent over, his hands supporting his knees; his left knee, filled with fluid, was swollen and shiny.
"Those shots, they were so close," Finley muttered sullenly, sitting on a small stool, his hands gripping his knees. "Just bad luck."
Sam Cassell, who was sitting in the corner, suddenly chuckled.
The laughter wasn't loud, but it was particularly jarring. He lowered his head and slowly cut open the white bandage on his ankle with scissors.
" Kevin," Sam Cassell lifted his eyelids and glanced at Garnett, "When you caught the ball in the last five seconds, did you feel like it wasn't a basketball, but a piece of red-hot coal?"
Garnett, already seething with anger, ripped off his towel, his eyes wide and veins bulging on his forehead. "There are two guys blocking me! Michael's got someone on his side, Eddie's blocked too. Am I supposed to force a shot against two guys if I don't pass?!"
"Don't give me that." Sam Cassell threw the scissors on the table with a loud "bang!" and everyone in the locker room fell silent.
"You guys searched everywhere. You passed to Finley, Finley passed to Person, Person shoved the ball back into your hands. Finally, you glanced at the basket and dumped a mess with only one second left on the clock on me." Sam Cassell stood up, walked over to Garnett, and stared at the nineteen-year-old. " The Dream gets double-teamed too. But when he gets the ball, the first thing he does isn't to find someone to blame; he tries to put the ball between two big men in the basket. He can pass, but only after he's hurt the opponent. Not because the ball is hot!"
"That's enough!" Mitchell jumped to his feet, shielding Garnett with his shoulder, his eyes fixed on Sam Cassell. "Why are you yelling at Kevin? The whole team was running the routes the coach gave us. We need to maximize our shooting percentage and pass the ball to open players!"
"To hell with the success rate!" Sam Cassell abruptly turned his head, his eyes filled with the frustration accumulated from the losing streak. "When we had plenty of energy and were able to jump high in the first three quarters, Adelman's approach did work. But in the last five minutes, the whole team was exhausted, and the opponents figured out our game plan!"
Sam Cassell grabbed his jacket, slung it over his shoulder, and walked to the locker room door. "You guys are passing the ball around outside because when you get the ball, you all realize you're too tired to drive, and you're not confident about shooting, so none of you dare to shoot. You just close your eyes and pass the ball to the next person! That's not team basketball, that's self-deception! You're using the coach's tactics as a shield!"
"Stop gifting each other, choir boys. If you play like this in the next game, and anyone throws me that ice-cold ball in the final moments, I'll just throw it off the court and let whoever wants to take the blame take it!"
Bang! The door slammed shut.
The incandescent lights on the ceiling in the corridor were somewhat glaring.
Sam Cassell stormed off, but then abruptly stopped at a turn.
Lin Qi stood in the middle of the dimly lit players' tunnel, his hands in his trench coat pockets, an unlit cigarette between his fingers, staring at him expressionlessly.
Sam Cassell, who had been so arrogant in the locker room, inexplicably softened when he saw Lin Qi's chilling eyes. He wiped the sweat from his face, took a deep breath, and paused beside Lin Qi.
"Lin," Sam Cassell's voice was low, tinged with the roughness and weariness of Baltimore streets, "If you don't come up with a solution, in the last two minutes of the next game, I'll take the ball and go it alone. I don't want to be laughed at by the entire American media along with these choir boys."
After saying that, Sam Cassell didn't wait for Lin Qi's reply, tugged at his coat, and walked out sideways.
Lin Qi stood there, watching Sam Cassell's figure disappear at the end of the passage. He wasn't angry at the old soldier's insubordination; instead, he slowly exhaled a breath of stale air and put the unlit cigarette into his mouth.
Sam Cassell is right, a team is not meant to be a refuge.
Rick Adelman's selfless doctrine of "passing the ball to an open player" has become the perfect escape route for these broken kids when they're physically exhausted and afraid to take responsibility. Because as long as they pass the ball out, they're "reasonable" and don't have to take responsibility for the subsequent failures.
A group of trapped beasts driven to their deaths by the very notion of "correctness".
The problem seems to have been found.