United Center.
The young Boston Celtics came to this daunting away game with the spirit of having just eliminated the Cleveland Cavaliers.
That grueling battle against the Cleveland Cavaliers truly toughened these kids up. They learned to breathe in the mire, to grit their teeth and drag the game to the very end even in the most difficult conditions. They felt they had finally understood what the playoffs were all about.
As he got off the bus, Kevin Garnett even had the energy to grin at the Chicago Bulls fans outside the arena.
"We beat the Cleveland Cavaliers ' defense." In the locker room, Finley encouraged himself while changing his shoes. " The Chicago Bulls are strong, but isn't that how you take down a game in the playoffs?"
Lin Qi stood in front of the whiteboard, hands in his pockets, without saying a word.
He knew these kids were about to learn another lesson. The Cleveland Cavaliers had taught them how slow the playoffs could be, and the Chicago Bulls were going to show them tonight... there's a team in this world that can make you slower than the Cleveland Cavaliers, and faster than you when you're on a roll.
That kind of team is called a historic champion.
At the start of the game, the Celtics players noticed that the wind direction was wrong.
In the first possession, Sam Cassell dribbled the ball across half-court. This should have been the simplest thing in the world, but tonight, the 6'3" Ron Harper came right up to him on the baseline.
Harper, using his broad frame and exceptionally long wingspan, blocked Sam Cassell's path like a moving wall. Just as Sam Cassell tried to lower his center of gravity and accelerate, Scottie Pippen, two meters away on the weak side, moved like a giant spider, employing terrifying lateral movements, and with a ghostly flick of his wrist, his fingertips instantly brushed against the edge of the ball.
Sam Cassell broke out in a cold sweat and instinctively turned his back to protect the ball. Although he didn't lose the ball, by the time he finally managed to dribble it across half-court, the 24-second shot clock had already run out of ten seconds.
A hasty pass, a hasty shot, and the ball bounces off the rim.
Lin Qi sat on the sidelines, squinting. The Cleveland Cavaliers slowed down their opponents by grinding them down in half-court sets, while the Chicago Bulls slowed you down from the moment you got the ball, cutting off your entire team's offensive lifeline.
The Celtics are trying to increase their pace.
Their signature move this season is their fast break counter-attack, which utilizes the athleticism of their forwards.
Eddie Jones grabbed the defensive rebound amidst the chaos and immediately turned to launch a long pass fast break. As the Celtics' fastest counter-attack spearhead, once he gets going in the open, few in the league can keep up with him.
But as soon as he started it, he froze on the spot.
Michael Jordan had already positioned himself half a step ahead on defense, blocking Jones's path to the other side. Jones attempted a crossover step to force his way through, but Jordan's slide was faster, as if he had anticipated the future, blocking the path once again.
The young players' fast-break habits and acceleration routes were like an open comic book in front of this veteran basketball player who had watched the game for eleven years. Jones was forced to stop the ball, and the Boston Celtics ' proud counterattack was extinguished at its source by Jordan alone.
The Celtics had to play their last card... Dino Radja in the low post.
The ball was lobbed into the low post, and the man guarding Radja was Dennis Rodman, the one with fluorescent green hair.
Radja lowered his stance, preparing to overwhelm his opponent with his refined low-post footwork. But he soon discovered that Dennis Rodman didn't play by the rules at all. He never attempted a risky steal, but instead used his steel-like lower body to block Radja's back.
Every time Radja tried to spin, Dennis Rodman's knee would silently wedge itself against the back of his thigh, using this slight resistance to disrupt Radja's power axis.
One round, two rounds, three rounds.
Radja didn't lose the ball, but he found that he had to exert twice the usual effort every time he fought in the paint. His already swollen knee visibly collapsed under Dennis Rodman's continuous physical exertion. By the second quarter, Radja's movements had completely changed; his low-post isolation plays not only failed to score but also became a black hole that drained the Boston Celtics' offensive time.
Lin Qi looked at the field, and even the last bit of hope in his heart vanished.
Dennis Rodman used the most inconspicuous, most grueling, yet most efficient method to grind the Boston Celtics' most consistent scoring option in the regular season into dust, bit by bit.
Sam Cassell's playmaking, Eddie's fast breaks, and Radja's low post play— the Chicago Bulls dismantled the Celtics ' core strengths in less than a quarter and a half.
And this is only on the defensive end.
On offense, the Chicago Bulls ' Triangle Offense was terrifyingly composed. Jordan executed an unstoppable low-post fadeaway, Pippen drove and dished, and Kerr caught the ball in the corner and drained a three-pointer. They barely broke a sweat before easily taking control of the game.
Before the third quarter was even over, the score had already widened to 20 points.
Garnett, hands on his knees, gasped for breath. He remembered grinning at the Chicago Bulls fans as he got off the bus, but that pride had been completely extinguished by this cold, all-encompassing crushing defeat.
Final score: Chicago Bulls 103, Celtics 84.
A difference of 19 points, that's a solid margin.
In the away game's locker room, the young Boston Celtics players looked dejected.
"Mr. Lin Qi," Finley said, his head bowed, his voice devoid of its pre-match fervor, "How... how did they know everything? It's like they were already there waiting for us, waiting to see what we were planning."
Lin Qi glanced around at the group of stunned children. He didn't yell at them, but simply pulled over a folding chair, sat down in the center of the changing room, and unbuttoned his suit jacket.
"There's no such thing as prophecy. The fact that they can shut down every matchup so effectively only proves one thing... Phil Jackson's coaching staff has dissected and thoroughly analyzed each and every one of you over the past two weeks."
Lin Qi stared calmly at the group of young people whose underwear had been stripped off.
"Think about Harper and Jordan's defensive positioning tonight. Michael, if you step to the side tonight, Jordan will be half a step ahead to block your right side."
" Sam, and you too." Lin Qi turned to Sam Cassell, "The moment you stick your butt out, Harper immediately lowers his center of gravity and chests you in. If they hadn't gone through every frame of our last thirty regular season games and made their scouting reports more detailed than anyone else's, they wouldn't have been able to put together this defensive setup tonight."
The locker room was deathly silent, save for the dripping sound of water from the ice packs falling onto the floor.
The young people looked up in surprise.
"Losing by 19 points isn't shameful; what's shameful is being stunned and thinking the opponent has magic."
Lin Qi stood up, his suit jacket draped over his shoulders. He walked to the door of the dressing room, gripped the doorknob, and looked back at the group of young people whose fists were clenched so tightly they were turning blue.
"Go back tonight and watch the video of this game frame by frame, make sure you understand it. Go see how those old guys who've won more championships and made more dollars really fought tooth and nail with you guys. Then memorize this sentence..."
Lin Qi, facing the cold corridor lights of the United Center, uttered his last words.
"What makes you most desperate in this world is never encountering an insurmountable Mountain. It's these Lao Liumang standing on the mountaintop who are more talented than you, and also work harder than you."
The door closed silently.