In mid-November, the Boston Celtics embarked on their first four-game road trip in the South this season.
After consecutive victories in Miami and Orlando, the team's private plane landed in Memphis, Tennessee on the evening of November 13, in preparation for their match against the Memphis Grizzlies on the evening of the 15th.
The Grizzlies of today are no longer the weak team they were two years ago, easily defeated by others. Since taking over as head coach, 70-year-old Hubie Brown has implemented a unique ten-man rotation system, the only one of its kind in the league. Jason Williams, LeBron James Posey, Mike Miller, Drew Gooden, Stromile Swift, and Lorenzen Wright, along with ten energetic young players, are divided into two groups of five players each game, using tireless full-court press and fast breaks to overwhelm many strong Western Conference teams.
10:00 AM, November 14th, Memphis Pyramid Arena.
To counter the Grizzlies ' ten-man rotation strategy, head coach Rick Carlisle increased the intensity of pre-game practice. Before the official half-court offense and defense drills, the team first conducted a twenty-minute warm-up involving group shuttle runs and shooting.
Mehmet Okur's performance was off from the start of warm-up.
After several full-court sprints, Okur's face turned pale, and his legs were noticeably weak when he jumped after receiving the ball. Three consecutive open three-pointers from the top of the arc, which he usually made with a sure thing, all came out a bit short, hitting the front edge of the rim and bouncing out.
During the subsequent five-on-five half-court transition drills, the rhythm of the game frequently faltered.
"Beep!"
Rick Carlisle, standing on the sidelines, blew his whistle for the third time, his brow furrowed as he watched the game unfold. "Memet, what's wrong with you? Chris Paul has already gone to the wing to delay the opposing guard; you need to rotate from the weak side immediately to cover the open shot under the basket! What were you doing outside the three-second zone just now?"
On the field, Okur held his knees with both hands, his chest heaving violently, and sweat dripping from his forehead and down his chin. He had only practiced for less than forty minutes today, but his legs felt as heavy as lead, and he was even having trouble breathing.
"My bad, Coach," Okur swallowed, his throat dry. "I'll catch up right away."
The drills have resumed.
The first unit is on offense. Dwyane Wade dribbles and pushes the fast break, and Garnett follows up from the middle to the free-throw line. According to defensive principles, substitute center Okur should immediately retreat to the free-throw line to contain Garnett and prevent him from easily receiving the ball and cutting to the basket.
But Okur was two steps slower as he ran back from the frontcourt. By the time he swayed his heavy body to the three-point line, Garnett had already received the ball, stepped into the three-second zone, and leaped into the air, slamming the ball into the basket with one hand.
After landing, Garnett didn't pass the ball to the assistant coach on the baseline. Instead, he held the basketball with one hand, turned around, and walked over to Okur.
The entire arena fell silent instantly. Tyson Chandler Chandler and Gerald Wallace, who were retrieving the ball from the baseline, both stopped what they were doing.
"What the hell's wrong with you these past two days?" Garnett glared at Okur, his voice low but each word emphasized. "This is the fourth time this morning you've missed a man on defense. The Grizzlies were on the fast break for the entire 48 minutes. If it's the game tomorrow night, Drew Gooden and Swift will tear you apart!"
Okur's face flushed red, and he instinctively took a half step back. " Kevin, I didn't sleep well last night, my legs feel a bit heavy..."
"Stop giving me excuses!"
Garnett slammed the basketball in his hand onto the floor, sending it bouncing more than three meters high before flying out of bounds.
Strength and conditioning coach Mike Boyle walked over, glanced at the scoreboard in his hand, and whispered to Rick Carlisle, " Rick, Memet weighed in this morning and is six and a half pounds heavier than he was ten days ago."
Six and a half pounds.
Gaining more than six pounds in just ten days is a disaster for an inside player who needs to run the half-time transition game the whole time and also stretch out to the three-point line to set screens.
Upon hearing this, Garnett's chest heaved, and he walked straight to the sidelines, kicking over a plastic Gatorade bucket at his feet. Ice cubes and orange sports drinks spilled all over the floor.
"What did we say?" Garnett pointed at the water stains on the ground and yelled at Okur, " Chris Paul, Big Ben Wallace, and I gave up our playing time so you could go up and create space, and have a chance to perform! Who told you to stuff yourself with junk food on your vacation and then come on the court and drag the whole team down? If you can't control your mouth, you can take a bus back to the Maine Celtics tomorrow and let Tyson Chandler fill your spot. Don't waste everyone's time here!"
After yelling, Garnett ripped off his training vest and threw it on a chair, then strode into the locker room without looking back.
Okur stood in the center of the court, his hands hanging down by his trouser seams, his head almost buried in his chest.
During the week he played a home game in Boston at the beginning of the month, his parents flew all the way from Yarova, Turkey, to visit him. Worried that their son wouldn't eat well abroad, the elderly couple brought two large suitcases of ingredients from their hometown. Every day, they cooked him a variety of dishes in their apartment, including Turkey kebabs, buttered lamb chops, and his childhood favorite, nut-filled pastries. These pastries, made with dozens of layers of flaky pastry filled with crushed pistachios and topped with a thick layer of syrup, were incredibly high in calories. Okur initially only intended to try a couple, but after his parents' persuasion, he ate them for several days in a row. Before leaving for the away game, his mother even packed two large boxes into his luggage, and his weight spiraled out of control without him realizing it.
"Alright, that's enough for this morning's practice," Rick Carlisle glanced at Okur, who was looking down, sighed, and clapped his hands. "Everyone, go take a shower and go back to the hotel to rest. Memet, Mike will revise your menu for the next two weeks. Starting tonight, your plate will only contain boiled chicken breast and broccoli."
The players left the field in twos and threes. As Rasheed Wallace passed by Okur, he reached out and patted him on the back without saying anything.
That evening at 8 p. m., at the Sheraton Hotel in downtown Memphis.
After taking a shower, Okur sat on the edge of the bed in the room, wearing baggy gray sweatpants. There was still half a piece of untouched, dry chicken breast left on the plate on the table.
When he played in Turkey, he was the core of Anatolian Efes' interior defense, cherished by the team. After arriving in Boston, although Lin Qi and Rick Carlisle valued him highly, Garnett's almost obsessive pursuit of winning still left him feeling aggrieved and upset. Today, being publicly berated by Garnett in front of the entire team, and even threatened with being transferred to the Maine Celtics, made him feel ashamed and unable to hold his head high in front of his teammates.
Just as Okur was staring blankly at the television screen that was off, there was a sudden, soft knock on the door three times.
Okur walked over and opened the door, and the person standing outside made him pause for a moment.