Game 4 of the NBA Finals was filled with the palpable tension of real competition at the New Garden.
The atmosphere changed noticeably from the very first second of the jump ball.
Ron Artest went into a state of frenzied euphoria in this game. In the first three games, his temper had been kept under control by his head coach and teammates, who were telling him to stay calm. But today, all his defensive moves were recklessly testing the limits of legality.
Whether Jordan had the ball or not, Artest would always find a way to challenge him.
In the ninth minute of the first quarter, Jordan called for the ball on the right low post.
Artest held Jordan from behind. After receiving the ball, Jordan turned towards the baseline, using his shoulder to push and create space. This would normally be a normal ball-protecting move, but Artest took the hit head-on, leaning forward and colliding his chin with Jordan's swinging elbow.
The referee didn't blow the whistle. Artest felt the pain, and his anger flared up instantly.
In the next possession, Boston missed a shot, and the Lakers launched a fast break. Jordan received a pass on the fast break and was about to take three steps for a layup when Artest came up from the side and behind. He grabbed Jordan's jersey by the shoulder and pulled Jordan down, ball and all.
Jordan staggered to the ground, and the basketball slipped from his grasp.
Jordan turned around, walked straight towards Artest, and shoved Artest's chest with both hands.
"Hey buddy, is this a massage for me? Is this all you know how to do?" Jordan stared into Artest's eyes, looking like he wanted to kill him.
Artest wasn't afraid at all. He immediately straightened his chest and retorted, spewing out a string of profanities. Their foreheads met, neither giving an inch.
The players from both sides quickly surrounded them, with Big Ben and O'Neal squeezing in the middle to forcibly separate the two. The referee blew his whistle repeatedly, giving Jordan and Artest a technical foul each.
The conflict has temporarily subsided, but the atmosphere on the field is more tense.
In front of the Lakers ' bench, Phil Jackson leaned back in his chair, watching everything that was happening on the court with a blank expression.
Jackson turned his head and glanced at Charles Oakley, who was sitting at the end of the bench.
Charles Oakley, who was Jordan's number one bodyguard during his time with the Chicago Bulls, can no longer keep up with the pace of the game. He barely played a few minutes in the first three NBA Finals.
But now, it's time to use him. Jackson gave him a slight nod of his chin.
Charles Oakley stood up without a word, tore off his long-sleeved warm-up suit, and walked to the scorer's table to wait for the substitution when the ball was dead.
At the start of the second quarter, Charles Oakley replaced Lamar Odom.
Boston's players didn't pay much attention to the veteran. Garnett easily got position in the paint and prepared to go one-on-one.
But on the outside, a storm is already brewing.
Billups' ball control was delayed by Kidd, who then passed the ball laterally to Artest, who was cutting in from the wing. Artest received the ball and saw that only Charles Oakley was helping on defense inside. Without hesitation, he gathered the ball, took three steps, and prepared to ignite the home crowd with a dunk.
Artest pushed off the ground with both feet, leaped into the air, and held the ball high above his head.
Just as he reached his highest point, Charles Oakley moved. He took a big step forward, facing the soaring Artest, and swung his thick right arm, aiming a heavy blow at Artest's neck and collarbone.
"Bang!"
Artest lost his balance in mid-air, flipped sideways, and crashed heavily to the floor.
The dull thud made the fans in the front row instinctively close their eyes. Artest's back and the back of his head slammed hard onto the wooden floor. He curled up in pain, his mouth agape but no sound came out, and his vision went black.
The New Garden was silent for half a second, then erupted in a deafening roar of curses.
Ben Wallace, his eyes bloodshot, charged at Charles Oakley immediately. Seeing this, O'Neal stepped aside, using his massive frame to shield Charles Oakley. Garnett and Wade also rushed in, and the players from both sides instantly became a chaotic scramble near the baseline, pushing and shoving each other. The situation completely spiraled out of control; the referee rushed into the crowd, frantically blowing his whistle, and security personnel even jumped onto the court to break up the fight.
Behind the chaotic crowd, Artest still lay on the floor. His vision gradually regained focus, and the sharp pain in his chest, along with the fury of being ambushed, surged to his head. He gritted his teeth, braced himself on the floor, and tried to get up to settle the score with Charles Oakley. Even if he was suspended for fighting, he would beat that guy up.
Just as he was about to get up, a pair of strong hands pressed down on his shoulders, forcibly pushing him back onto the floor.
It's Chris Paul Pierce.
Pierce knelt down beside Artest, using his broad back to block Artest's view of Charles Oakley and also to block the close-up shots from the broadcast camera.
"Lie still, Ron." Pierce lowered his head, his face almost touching Artest's ear, his voice calm. "Take a deep breath and listen to me."
Artest, panting heavily, glared at Pierce with bloodshot eyes. "He tried to cripple me, Chris Paul! I'm going to kill that bastard..."
"Shut up, listen to me!" Pierce pressed his hands firmly against Artest's shoulders, preventing him from getting up. " Charles Oakley's only job on the court is to trade you. Phil Jackson is trading a near-retirement veteran for our starting small forward. If you stand up and fight now, you'll definitely get suspended."
Artest's chest heaved violently, his anger still burning, but Pierce's words were like a bucket of ice water poured over his reason.
"If you can't play in Game 5, who's going to guard Michael? Me? Or Dwyane ( Wade )?" Pierce stared into Artest's eyes, his tone carrying an undeniable authority. "That's a terrible attempt at provocation. If you're on the ground, he's just an ejected thug. If you get up and make a move, our season is over."
Artest's clenched fists slowly loosened a little.
"Be smart, Ron." Pierce reached out and wiped the cold sweat from Artest's forehead. "When the team doctor comes, act even more convincingly and have someone help you out for a checkup. The rest... we'll handle."
After a few seconds of silence, Artest looked into Pierce's expressionless eyes and finally nodded. He lay back down, closed his eyes, and let out a painful groan.
After reviewing the video, the referee did not hesitate and immediately gave Charles Oakley a Flagrant Foul 2, ejecting him from the game. Charles Oakley turned and walked towards the player tunnel. As he passed the Lakers' bench, Jordan stood up and patted him on the shoulder twice.
The team doctor finally pushed through the crowd, grabbed his medical kit, and rushed to Artest's side. After a brief examination, Pierce and Ben Wallace, one on each side, supported Artest's arms and helped him up from the floor.
Artest was hunched over, seemingly too weak to even walk independently. Amidst the unified chants of " Ron! Ron!" from the 20,000 fans in the stadium, he slowly made his way to the players' tunnel with the help of his teammates, heading back to the locker room for further examination.