At 7 p. m., in the North End of Boston, at a long-established Italy steakhouse on Hanover Street.
Lin Qi originally only planned to treat a few veteran players to a casual meal, but when he went downstairs he saw Chandler and Prince and a few other young players still practicing in the arena, so he simply had the public relations department book the entire second-floor hall of the steakhouse and called over all fifteen players and the core members of the coaching staff.
On the long oak dining table, T-bone steaks sizzled on cast-iron plates, coated in butter, while the air was filled with the aromas of black pepper, roasted garlic, and red wine. The players sat in small groups, as was their custom. The younger players mostly sat on the outer side of the table, engrossed in their steaks; while the veterans— Garnett, Pierce, Rasheed Wallace, Ben Wallace, and Gary Payton —gathered around the main table.
After a few glasses of ice water, the atmosphere at the dinner table quickly warmed up, and the topic naturally turned to the big trade that had shaken the entire league that day.
"If you ask me, Shaq's trip to Chicago is purely for suffering," Rasheed Wallace mumbled, shoving a large piece of rare beef into his mouth. "That fat guy lived like a king in Los Angeles for seven or eight years, spending his time either hanging out in bars in Beverly Hills or doing cameo roles in Hollywood movies. Now, look what's happened—he's been kicked to work for that tightwad Jerry Reinsdorf. In November, the winds from Lake Michigan in Chicago are so fierce they could blow you away. With his build, he'd be panting just walking from the hotel to the United Center."
"I don't know if he's even breathing," Gary Payton, sitting next to him, added two ice cubes to his glass and swirled it. "I'd like to see how Jay Williams handles that big guy. He's used to playing a fast-paced drive-and-kick game with Kobe, and suddenly he's switched to Shaq who grinds in the low post for ten seconds every possession. If the ball is even a fraction of a second too slow, Shaq might just smash his locker in the locker room."
The young people at the table stopped eating and listened to the veterans chatting.
Rasheed Wallace swallowed the mashed potatoes in his mouth and couldn't help but interject, "I spoke to Brian Grant this afternoon. Brian said Chicago in complete chaos right now. He was supposed to be the starting center, but with Shaq gone, Brian has to play off the bench or be moved to power forward to keep up with the sprints. He's having a tantrum with his agent."
" Brian Grant playing power forward?" Gary Payton chuckled, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "That's going to be a nightmare for the Chicago Bulls ' paint. Two big men without shooting ability crammed into the paint, the offensive space will be more cramped than my grandma's living room."
The crowd burst into laughter.
Lin Qi sat in the main seat, holding his wine glass and listening to everyone chat for a while. After the waiter cleared away the first round of empty plates and refilled the drinks, Lin Qi tapped the table lightly twice with his knuckles.
The laughter and chatter in the hall gradually subsided, and more than a dozen pairs of eyes turned to the person in the main seat.
"Since everyone's here today, and before the preseason officially starts, I'd like to share some changes in our playing style for the new season over dinner."
Lin Qi glanced at Rick Carlisle beside him, his gaze sweeping across the room. "Last week at the board meeting in New York, David Stern and Stu Jackson called in all the general managers for an internal briefing. Stern didn't name names explicitly, but every word he said was aimed at Boston."
Rasheed threw his fork onto his plate and sneered, "They think our defense is too strong and ruins their money-making business, huh?"
"Two years ago, when the league abolished illegal defense and allowed zone defense," Lin Qi nodded frankly, " Stern originally hoped that teams would pass the ball more, move more, and play more attractive offenses. And what happened? During our four-peat years, we frequently held our opponents to under 70 points in the playoffs."
Lin Qi paused, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "The whole league saw us win and started copying us. Detroit, Indiana, San Antonio, New Jersey —now half the league is playing a similar style of basketball. Several nationally televised games last season saw both teams score only thirty-something points by halftime. ABC and ESPN just spent $2.4 billion last year to buy the broadcasting rights, but the ratings plummeted, and the broadcasters' complaints nearly buried Stern's desk."
Pierce leaned back in his chair and chuckled, "They can't make shots themselves, so they blame our defense for being too good?"
"Regardless of who's to blame, the league office is really in a hurry now. Especially with Michael's complete retirement this summer, Stern desperately needs to retain the audience with high scores and dazzling offense."
Rick Carlisle picked up the thread, his expression turning serious. "Although the league has been calling for restrictions on perimeter hand contact for the past three years, teams have been figuring out how to break zone defenses for the past few seasons, and the referees' officiating standards have been constantly fluctuating. When you're facing old-school referees like Dick Bavetta or Joe Crawford, you can use your forearm to block the ball handler's waist or your knee to block their lower body, and the referees will still keep their whistles to themselves. But if it's a bunch of young referees, the whistle goes off the moment their hand touches the ball. This inconsistent officiating leaves the players on the court feeling lost."
Artest took a big gulp of ice water, wiped his mouth, and said with deep feeling, "That's right. Last season in the regular season against the Heat, I was called for blocking shots on the perimeter twice in just two minutes. Then two days later against the Pacers, I bumped into Reggie Miller at the free-throw line and he stumbled, and the referee didn't even lift an eyelid. Those whistles are all clueless themselves."
"Maybe before it was just a test, but this year the wind is completely set," Lin Qi stated bluntly. "Stu Jackson said at the meeting that this year is the final transition period, and the referee team will strictly enforce hand contact and physical obstruction on the perimeter during the regular season. Next year, anyone who dares to put their hand on the waist to delay a drive will be called for it without hesitation."
Artest frowned. "If you won't even let them put their hands on you, how are you going to defend the perimeter? Just stand there and watch them walk into the paint?"
"We definitely can't afford to lose our defense, but we can't keep going down the same old path."
Lin Qi crossed his arms on the edge of the table and laid out the strategy agreed upon by the coaching team.
"In the new season, we'll adapt to the situation on the field. In the first five minutes of each game, Raja ( Bell ) Ron ( Artest ), you two will engage in physical contact as usual, testing the referee's limits."
Lin Qi held up two fingers.
"In the first scenario, if we encounter an old-school referee that night who is lenient and allows physical combat, then we'll play the old way."
In the second scenario, if the referee is blowing the whistle too frequently, and the whistle blows the moment a hand touches the waist, everyone must immediately stop any fidgeting. Under no circumstances should anyone argue with the referee on the court and risk a technical foul... especially you, Rasheed."
Rasheed rolled his eyes and raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, I'll smile at them this year, okay?"
The crowd chuckled, and Lin Qi continued, "When there's a tight call, on defense, rely solely on footwork and vertical jumps to disrupt the defense, while on offense, immediately increase the pace. Since the league and referees are favoring perimeter drives, let's go with the flow and overwhelm the opponent with our offense. Kevin, your rebounding is the most reliable in the league. This season, once you grab a defensive rebound, you won't have to wait for the point guard to slowly run over and receive the pass like before. Immediately look up at the frontcourt, and as soon as Dwyane or Gerald gets going, just throw the ball out like a quarterback, and finish the game within five seconds."
Wade, sitting next to him, suddenly straightened up, his eyes lighting up.
Lin Qi then looked at Pierce: " Chris Paul, it's the same for you on the wing. This year, whenever there's an opportunity in transition offense, you're allowed to pull up and shoot pull-up threes from beyond the three-point line. Spread out the floor completely, and take advantage of the opponent's zone defense before they've set up their formation to shoot them dead."
Pierce raised an eyebrow, tapping his fingers lightly on the tablecloth. "A three-pointer from behind? I love that! We should have been playing like this a long time ago."
Raja Bell nodded in agreement. "That's a good idea."