In early April, only eight games remained in the 1995-1996 regular season.
On the edge of the highest tier of the stands at Indiana Market Square Arena, Lin Qi stood alone, lost in the roar of 16,000 enthusiastic fans.
The end-of-season schedule on his knee had been completely crossed out with red pen. Behind each number brutally crossed out in red, leaving a glaring blood-red mark, was a fierce battle fought to secure a place in the standings.
Reality is just that cruel.
Those two behemoths that dominate the league— the Chicago Bulls with 65 wins and the Orlando Magic with 54 wins—are like two towering mountains, pressing down on the Eastern Conference. These two monsters have snatched nearly 120 victories across the country, almost squeezing the survival space of all mid-table teams in the Eastern Conference to the extreme.
The five teams ranked 4th to 8th in the Eastern Conference were like wild dogs cornered, keeping their records within a narrow range of 41 to 42 wins.
In this suffocating quagmire, even losing just one more game can cause your ranking to drop three places, falling directly to seventh or eighth.
According to experts across the United States, falling to that position means you'll be facing the Chicago Bulls or Magic in the first round, with your winning percentage approaching zero.
Lin Qi knew better than anyone the true potential of these young players. They weren't fully formed yet, and they needed more playoff time to gain experience. Competing against a similarly caliber team like the Cleveland Cavaliers or Pacers in the first round meant the series would most likely be much longer.
Playing one more game will give these young players an extra 48 minutes of valuable experience in the heat of the playoffs.
As for the claim that facing the Chicago Bulls or Magic would be a certain defeat?
Lin Qi didn't believe in such superstitions. Basketball is unpredictable; in the playoffs, anything can happen before the final buzzer. Even with only a one percent chance of winning, as long as Garnett and these young players get another chance to stand in the spotlight, who can guarantee they won't take a bite out of the beast?
Tonight, the Boston Celtics will face the fourth-ranked Indiana Pacers in the Eastern Conference, which will be the first hurdle for them to overcome in their quest for this "possibility".
If they lose, they will completely lose the initiative in positioning and be forced to accept the 'worst option' of going head-to-head with the behemoth in the first round;
Only by winning tonight can the Boston Celtics be the first to reach 43 wins, forcefully seizing a crucial half-step advantage in this fiercely competitive Eastern Conference battle.
Winning gives you the upper hand;
We lost, and we're on the defensive from the start.
Both teams were fiercely competitive from the first quarter. The floor was covered in sweat from their physical battle, and the ball slammed against the rim with a heavy, metallic thud. Garnett's jersey was already soaked with sweat, clinging tightly to his still-developing, bony ribs. His right knee had been bumped by Dale Davis in the third quarter, and now it ached with every lateral movement.
With one minute remaining, the Boston Celtics were down by one point.
With only 24 seconds left on the final possession, Boston had their last possession.
The 16,000 fans in the arena craned their necks, the air so tense it felt like it was about to spontaneously combust. The television cameras were focused on the Boston Celtics' bench. Everyone thought Adelman would give the final shot to Sam Cassell. That was a logical thing to do; "The Alien" was known for his clutch performance in the playoffs.
But Adelman drew a heavy circle on the whiteboard outside the three-point line in the middle with a red Mark.
The finish line—is Garnett!
A deathly silence fell over the bench. Sam Cassell ripped off his towel, his signature big eyes bloodshot, and slapped Garnett hard on the thin shoulder, the force so strong it seemed to wake the high schooler. "Kid, don't pass the ball, get it? Shoot it, and take me to the playoffs!"
Garnett didn't speak; his lips were cracked and peeling, and it felt like there was sand grinding in his throat. He just stared at the whiteboard, the countdown on the big screen reflected in his pupils.
At that very moment, Chip Engelland, the shooting coach Lin Qi had specifically recruited and who had spent the entire season scrutinizing Garnett's shooting motion, was standing behind Adelman and making a barely perceptible gesture to Garnett to press his wrist down.
For the past eight months, whenever Garnett's legs ached or his shooting form went awry, Engelland would remind him with this gesture. They had practiced this most mundane basic movement thousands of times in the empty training hall with their sweat.
The timeout ended, and the entire stadium held its breath.
The referee blew the whistle, and the Boston Celtics inbounded the ball from the frontcourt.
The Pacers ' defensive coach clearly anticipated that Sam Cassell would be heavily guarded, and they deployed a standard "secondary pressure" defense: Miller and McGee entangled Sam Cassell and Finley on the perimeter, denying them space to receive the ball; while under the basket, Dale Davis and Sam Perkins, two towering giants, stood with their hands on their hips, blocking the paint so tightly that not even a fly could get in.
The Pacers had no intention of giving Sam Cassell any chance to receive the ball.
Before the whistle blew, Reggie Miller and McGee were already like an unshakeable tack, using their elbows and chests to block Sam Cassell and Finley on the perimeter, preferring to foul rather than give them any room to breathe when they received the ball.
Meanwhile, in the paint, the two towering giants, Dale Davis and Sam Perkins, were already standing on the edge of the paint. They lowered their center of gravity, spread their muscular arms, and cut off the entire restricted area like two impenetrable iron gates.
If any Celtics dares to cut inside, they will be met with a malicious foul that brings the player and the ball down together.
The Pacers never expected the Boston Celtics to cause any trouble. In their view, the Celtics ' perimeter core had been effectively shut down by physical defense, and there wasn't enough time left on offense for them to reorganize their tactics.
Fourteen seconds, ten seconds, eight seconds...
Just when everyone thought the Boston Celtics were doomed, Garnett, who had been in the low post, suddenly strode out.
He rushed to the right at a 45-degree angle, firmly setting up his stance, seemingly about to provide a final screen for the tightly guarded Sam Cassell.
"Cover!! Switch! Guard Sam ( Sam Cassell ) to the death!!"
The Pacers ' veteran defenders instantly made the most correct, instinctive reaction of that era...
Without hesitation, the center guarding Garnett abandoned the 19-year-old high school student and, together with his teammates, spread out a wide net, lunging at Sam Cassell with bloodshot eyes.
However, it was a fake pick-and-roll.
Garnett's body didn't even make any real contact with the defender. In the blink of an eye as two Pacers defenders surrounded Sam Cassell, he took advantage of the gap as Sam Cassell drew away the defender, his toes nimbly spinning on the wooden floor, and like a nimble black panther, he gracefully retreated to the empty three-point line at the top of the arc!
Empty seat.
Absolutely open!
Sam Cassell, sandwiched between two burly men, relied on his terrifying guard instincts in a blind spot where his vision was completely blocked, and with an almost contorted backward lean, managed to throw the basketball diagonally upward before the two giant arms could completely close in!
It was a high-altitude arc with a strong backspin that almost grazed the heads of Davis and Perkins!
The basketball sailed over the Pacers ' formidable interior defense and, under the despairing gaze of the Indiana fans, plummeted towards the empty top of the key.
Garnett's long, black arms reached out like a roc spreading its wings and scooped the basketball up from the sky with a snap, forcefully snatching it from mid-air and simultaneously twisting his body, which was originally facing the basket, to a more upright position!
As he landed, the instant his feet gripped the ground, his knees, using the momentum of the fall, slightly bent to gather power, bringing the ball to his chest!