The competition continues.
In the next possession, Rasheed's turnaround jump shot from the midcourt missed, Ben Wallace grabbed the rebound and made a long pass to Wade in the frontcourt.
The Celtics launched a fast break. Wade drew Tyronn Lue back on defense, then flicked his wrist to pass the ball to Pierce was cutting in from the right side.
Rasheed and Okur were still rushing back near the midline, leaving the right half of the penalty area empty.
Pierce received the ball and stepped into the three-second zone. Because this was a team practice, and because everyone usually conserves energy before heading to an away game, Pierce habitually slowed down his steps as he took the last step, jumped on one foot, and prepared to easily put the ball into the basket with his right hand.
At the exact same second that Pierce jumped, Gerald Wallace, who had just been warned by Rick Carlisle that "if you let us run a fast break again, I'll be wearing a suit," desperately sprinted across the three-second zone from the left corner.
Gerald's eyes were only on the ball in Pierce's hand. He landed with his left foot two meters away from the basket, leaped into the air with all his might, and stretched out his right hand to block the layup.
Gerald jumped very high, and at the highest point, his right hand cleanly slapped the basketball, sending it flying towards the backboard.
But because Pierce slowed down when he jumped, while Gerald was sprinting at full speed, he couldn't stop his momentum in the air. The next instant after knocking the basketball away, Gerald's left hip and shoulder collided solidly with Pierce's right shoulder and ribs.
A muffled thud.
Pierce, caught off guard in mid-air, lost his balance and crashed onto the wooden floor outside the baseline. He slid two meters with the momentum before coming to a stop when his right knee and back hit the foam padding on the base of the basket.
Gerald also stumbled when he landed, rolled on the floor, scraped a large patch of skin off his left elbow on the wooden floor, and knocked over the scoreboard stand on the sidelines.
"Beep!"
Rick Carlisle's expression changed, and he rushed onto the field with a whistle in his mouth. "Stop! Everyone stop!"
Ignoring his bleeding elbow, Gerald scrambled to his feet, ran to the basket, bent down, and reached out to pull Pierce up. " Chris Paul, are you alright? I went for the ball, and I just couldn't stop in mid-air..."
Pierce lay on the floor, clutching his right knee and gasping for breath. For veteran players, the worst thing they can do in training before an away game is to make a forceful, unforced aerial Crash. The sharp pain in his knee instantly ignited Pierce's anger.
Pierce slapped Gerald's outstretched hand away, pushed himself up, and shoved Gerald's chest with both hands.
"Are you crazy? This is team practice! I slowed down, and you crashed into me from the side like that, trying to ruin my knee?"
Gerald was pushed back two large steps, his back slamming against the basket post. He didn't argue, but wiped the sweat from his chin and explained in a low voice, " Chris Paul, I didn't mean to. Rick just said no fast breaks, I really went for the ball..."
"Go for it, my ass!"
Garnett strode over from the free-throw line, stretched out his long arm, and shoved Gerald far away, blocking Pierce's path. Pointing at Gerald's nose, he yelled, "Are you blind? How can you be so ruthless to your own people? What if Chris Paul gets injured?!"
Gerald was shoved and stumbled, standing there clenching his fists, his face flushed red, but he didn't utter a single word in defense.
Seeing that Gerald had already apologized, and that Garnett and Pierce were still shoving him, the people on the white vest's side immediately erupted in anger.
Rasheed Wallace strode into the paint from beyond the three-point line, grabbed Gerald's arm and pulled him behind him, then puffed out his chest against Garnett and roared back with his chin held high.
" Kevin, why are you taking your anger out on him? He's already apologized. Didn't you see that he blocked the ball first? Rick just yelled at us for not fighting back on defense, and then this kid chased back and blocked it, and you guys got all worked up? So we're just supposed to stand here and watch your show?"
" Rasheed, stop causing trouble!" Ben Wallace walked over with a stern face and stood next to Garnett. "Team practice dictates that you pull back in mid-air; a solid impact like that could have been fatal!"
On the other side, Artest silently squeezed into the crowd, using his shoulder to stop Pierce Chandler, Tyronn Lue, and Raja Bell from pushing forward. A dozen tall guys were chest to chest in the paint, shoving and jostling, their shouts echoing through the arena.
"Stop it, all of you! Back off! Do you hear me?!"
Rick Carlisle, accompanied by three assistant coaches and physical trainer Boyle, charged into the crowd and managed to separate Garnett and Rasheed with great difficulty.
Rick Carlisle, his face ashen with rage, pointed at Gerald: "Don't you know how to protect your teammates during intra-team matches? Gerald, take off your vest and go back to the locker room! You're not going to Detroit tomorrow!"
Gerald stiffened, lowered his head, and reached out to grab the hem of his white training vest.
" Rick, don't rush."
A steady voice came from the direction of the spiral staircase on the second floor of the sidelines.
Upon hearing this sound, the players who were still glaring at each other in the three-second zone stopped pushing and shoving and turned to look at the sidelines.
Lin Qi walked down the stairs. Gary Payton, dressed in a gray tracksuit, followed behind Lin Qi with his hands in his pockets.
Rasheed Wallace, who had just been yelling at Garnett, immediately calmed down and took a half step back. Garnett and Pierce also lowered their arms.
Lin Qi walked to the baseline and glanced down at Pierce's right leg. " Chris Paul, how's your knee feeling?"
Pierce bent and straightened his right knee on the spot, then stomped his feet on the floor twice. "It's nothing, Lin, just a scrape from falling on the floor, it won't stop me from playing tomorrow."
Lin Qi nodded, turned around, and glanced at the two groups of players in front of him who were panting heavily.
He just watched the whole thing from the second-floor corridor.
The team has won twelve and lost one in the past two weeks. The starting five only play three quarters a game and then go home. Things have been going too smoothly, and they have indeed become a little arrogant on the training ground.
As for Gerald Wallace, placing him in the corner as a spot-up shooter was not using him in the right position.
"Last night at the Fairmont Hotel, you all seemed quite amicable," Lin Qi said calmly, looking at the two groups. "Why are you all so irritable today, once you put on your jerseys?"
No one spoke, but Rasheed turned his head to the side, Artest also had a tense face; clearly, neither was willing to back down.
Lin Qi turned to the assistant coach by the scorer's table. "Turn on the big scoreboard on the wall and set the timer to ten minutes."
The assistant coach glanced at Rick Carlisle and quickly ran to press the control panel switch. The electronic scoreboard on the arena wall lit up, displaying a red number 10:00, the score 0-0.
"Since we're both so angry, what's the point of just shoving and pushing in the paint? Let's let the ball do the talking," Lin Qi pointed to the scoreboard on the wall. "The green team starts with five players, the white team with six, and Tayshaun and Tyson Chandler can be rotated in at any time during dead balls. Let's play these ten minutes of real, hard-fought competition."
"For those ten minutes, Rick and all the assistant coaches retreated to the sideline. There were no referees and no free throws. Except for dangerous actions like bumping into players in the air, no physical contact was called a foul. Anyone who felt they had been fouled could take the ball back themselves."
Upon hearing this, Garnett and Rasheed both perked up.
"Let's get this straight: since we're going to fight like this, there has to be a prize," Lin Qi said slowly, holding up three fingers. "After ten minutes, the losing team on the scoreboard will face three penalties."
"First, after the game, run two sets of 17 sideline shuttle runs per minute on the court to warm up before taking a shower. Second, tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and the turkey gift boxes for the 80 support staff at Auerbach Center and New Garden, plus a $200 holiday bonus for each person, totaling $24,000, will be split equally among the losing team."
"Third, when we go to Logan Airport to board the plane to Detroit, the five guys who lost are responsible for carrying the large shoe and gear bags of everyone from the winning team from the bus onto the plane. Also, for this round trip, the leather card table in the back of the private jet and the fully reclining sofa in first class are all for the winning team; the losers all need to sit in the regular seats in the front!"
These words immediately caused a stir in the entire stadium.
Gary Payton, who had been watching the commotion from the sidelines, laughed so hard he slapped his thigh and shouted, "Did you hear that? The loser has to carry the winner's gear bag onto the plane and give up the card table in the back row! Chris Paul, Kevin, if you guys lose, I'm going to film you carrying Tyronn Lue and Gerald's shoes at the airport!"
Garnett and Pierce's expressions instantly tightened.
More than 20,000 yuan is nothing to them. They can tolerate running two round trips. But if they, as the starting main players, have to carry the equipment bags for the substitutes on the airport tarmac in front of the crew, and then be kicked out of the card table in the back of the private jet, they would be ridiculed by Gary Payton in the locker room for a whole year!
Meanwhile, Rasheed Wallace and Artest on the other side were already itching for a fight.
"Lin, you said it yourself!" Rasheed adjusted his headband and beckoned to his brothers in white vests, "White Team, assemble! Anyone who makes me miss out on the big sofa in the back of the plane today, I'll throw them out the window tonight!"