With Mutombo acquired, the Celtics ' defensive system is now finalized. With this towering African Mountain anchoring the paint, Boston's floor is practically guaranteed.
But Lin Qi knew that in the suffocating hand-to-hand combat of the 1990s, defense alone could only ensure that the battle did not collapse.
To go further, you need a consistent spacing point, clutch ability... and someone who can make the crucial shot without hesitation in the most critical moments.
Jerry West of the West Coast used extremely ruthless methods to snatch Kobe Brian away on draft night. This made Lin Qi feel an unprecedented sense of oppression from the times.
Lin Qi certainly knew that the real "hard-line disruptor" for Boston's future battle against Los Angeles was Chris Paul Pierce.
But now, it's the summer of 1996.
He can't expect a rookie who's still playing at the University of Kansas and hasn't even touched the NBA floor to fly to Boston now to help him beat the Chicago Bulls and the Lakers.
Distant water cannot quench immediate thirst.
A name surfaced in Lin Qi's mind.
Chris Mullin.
" Mullin?" The scouting director's brow furrowed instantly when he saw the name Lin Qi had written on the paper. "Lin, that's a 33-year-old injury-prone player. He hasn't been able to play consistently for the past few seasons. Last season, he was affected by an Achilles tendon injury, averaging less than 14 points per game. His athleticism has declined drastically since that serious injury. The Golden State Warriors are currently rebuilding around 25-year-old Sprewell and have long considered him a burden. Are you sure you want to take on a player who's about to retire?"
The injuries and attendance rates that the entire league was worried about... Lin Qi secretly wanted to laugh to himself.
Those general managers who sat in their offices reading briefings could never have imagined that this 33-year-old guy, whose attendance had been sporadic in the past few years, would have been almost always present for the next three seasons, as the most difficult period of Achilles tendon recovery had passed!
Lin Qi didn't look up; he was just flipping through the spreadsheet that the data company had rushed out overnight.
In this hardcore era that worships "one-on-one play" and "points per game," Chris Mullin is seen by everyone as just a washed-up All-Star who averages 14 points per game and whose attendance is a matter of luck.
But in Lin Qi's eyes, it was a completely different set of mathematical logic that transcended its time.
"Look at these numbers." Lin Qi pushed the spreadsheet forward, pointing to one column. "Last season, Mullin's true shooting percentage with the Warriors was 60.3%."
To put that in perspective, Jordan's true shooting percentage that year was only 58.2%.
The severe Achilles tendon injury in 1993 took away Mullin's explosiveness and speed, making it difficult for him to break through defenses by dribbling the ball.
But he didn't give up. He just honed his off-ball movement to another level. His rhythm changes, feints, anticipation of the defender's center of gravity, and that old-school instinct that he had half a beat ahead... He wasn't fast, but he always managed to get to the right place.
Injuries ruined his body, but they didn't ruin his basketball IQ and touch.
Thus, an old marksman who had lost his speed managed to use his brain and his left hand to run himself back into the Alliance's top space weapon.
In 1996, when everyone was obsessed with muscle and one-on-one ball-handling, Mullin's value was something few in the league could understand.
The Warriors see him as a burden, and the entire league sees him as a liability.
Besides Lin Qi, there was another Celtics legend— Larry Bird Larry Bird.
In the timeline Lin Qi knew, Mullin would have stayed with the Warriors for another year, and then in the summer of 1997, he would have been picked up by the Indiana Pacers. Larry Bird was one of the very few people in that era who could intuitively sense Mullin's value, because in many ways, Mullin was almost a mirror image of himself.
Larry Bird has a good eye for quality.
Unfortunately, this time, Boston acted a full year faster than Indiana.
The call was connected.
Lin Qi leaned back in his large executive office chair, his tone becoming businesslike, even tinged with a hint of reluctance, as if he were making this call purely out of professional courtesy.
"I heard you're looking for a suitable new home for Chris Mullin?" Lin Qi asked bluntly.
The Warriors ' general manager on the other end of the phone visibly paused, though he tried his best to maintain the decorum of management. The urgency in his voice was impossible to hide. "Oh, Lin Mullin is one of our veteran players, of course we want him to go to a competitive team... What, the Celtics have something in mind?"
Lin Qi sneered inwardly.
Forget about past achievements; business is business. The Warriors are eager to promote Sprewell to the starting lineup. The conflicts between the old and new generation in the locker room have long reached a breaking point, Mullin has become a burden they desperately need to get rid of during their rebuilding process. They'd love for the whole league to find a sucker to get rid of this big shot as soon as possible.
Meanwhile, the "sucker" in their eyes is sitting in the president's office in Boston.
"My backcourt is pretty crowded too," Lin Qi sighed, throwing out a bait. "However, I have two good young guys. Tracy Murray and Wesley Person. Both are twenty-five and have decent outside shooting."
" Person and Murray?" The Warriors ' general manager's voice was noticeably raised.
These two names hit the Warriors ' weak spot perfectly. Two 25-year-old shooters with cheap contracts who could easily make the rotation were traded for a 33-year-old, high-paid, injury-prone veteran who didn't get along with the younger players in the locker room... In the trading logic of 1996, this was practically handing meat to the Golden State.
"These two young guys, trade them for Mullin..." The Warriors' general manager tried to make his tone sound strained, "This... is negotiable, Lin. But Chris is, after all, a former All-Star..."
"Don't talk to me about the All-Star game, man," Lin Qi interrupted him coldly. "Everyone has seen his attendance rate and the speed of his decline over the past few seasons. I took on his contract to shoulder the future locker room bombs and salary cap issues for you guys. If you want to make a deal, you'll have to show some sincerity."
"For example?" The other person's voice immediately became alert.
"I want one of your future first-round picks," Lin Qi offered.
Before the other party could refuse, Lin Qi calmly added the restrictions, "I know you're rebuilding, and you can't just give away your high picks for free. Lotto protection. If it doesn't pay out this year, it will be rolled over to the top ten next year; if it still doesn't pay out, it will be the top eight the year after. If it still doesn't pay out in three years, it will be converted into two second rounds."
After hearing this protective clause that practically wrapped him up in layers, the Warriors' general manager almost burst out laughing on the other end of the phone.
Lottery protection, top-ten protection, top-eight protection... For a bad team, these picks will likely be pushed through the draft, eventually shrinking to two practically worthless second-round picks. Trading a player with no place in Golden State's squad for a retirement contract, plus a nominal "first-round blind box," for two young rotation players in their prime...
"Deal, Lin. I'll have the legal department draft the documents as soon as possible." The Warriors ' general manager, fearing Lin Qi might change his mind, made the decision in two seconds.
After hanging up the phone, the troubled expression on Lin Qi's face vanished completely.
Yet another "clever" person who thinks they've gotten a good deal.
The Warriors thought they had left the past behind.
Little did they know, they had personally delivered a spatial nuclear weapon that could completely revitalize Boston's offensive system, along with a future draft pick, to the Eastern Conference.
A few days later, Chris Mullin flew to Boston.
When the man with the blond buzz cut and a somewhat aloof expression, known as " God's Left Hand," entered Lin Qi's office, his shoulders slumped slightly.
In his final days in Golden State, the new coach thought he was too old, the management thought he was too slow, and the high-flying young players in the locker room saw him as a burden who couldn't keep up. His intermittent attendance due to a major Achilles tendon injury in previous years became an inescapable label of "glass man" on his head. He even began to doubt whether the 33-year-old Chris Mullin should really take off his jersey.
Lin Qi didn't exchange any pleasantries, but simply handed over a cup of black coffee, then turned and tore down the curtain from the tactics board.
" Chris, you no longer need to go back to the backcourt to receive the ball, orchestrate the offense, or force your way through tight defense." Lin Qi looked at him, his tone devoid of any businessman's politeness, calm and resolute. "The era of you carrying the Warriors single-handedly is over."
Mullin tightened his grip on the coffee cup, took a sip of black coffee, and a bitter smile played on his lips, revealing a hint of self-mockery in the face of a hero's decline.
"What I need you to do is very simple." Lin Qi picked up the red magnetic sticker and drew an extremely strange horizontal zigzag line on the weak side of the tactical board.
"On offense, I want you to move around, using Mutombo's massive frame in the paint as a pivot, making your best off-ball screens and cuts, or suddenly cutting straight to the basket."
Lin Qi looked at the stunned Mullin and continued.
"Those idiots in Golden State think you're useless without your explosive first step, but they don't understand. Your best weapon isn't speed, but your smartest off-ball movement in the league. You don't need the ball, but your movement will paralyze the opponent's defense. We have good point guards who will turn every fleeting open shot you leave into the most comfortable receiving point."
Mullin stared at the broken line, a flicker of melancholy flashing in his eyes. As a twelve-year veteran, he could picture that scene with his eyes closed... In that system, every step he took was met with a screen, and every position he made was met with a pass.
"As for defense," Lin Qi turned around, his gaze falling on Mullin's left hand, "Don't try to guard those twenty-year-old track monsters full-court. Your lateral movement may be slower, but your anticipation of passing lanes and your stealing technique are still among the best in the league. I want you to 'herd the sheep' on the perimeter, using your defensive experience to stick to their shooting angles, forcing them to drive into the paint, and driving them into Mutombo's guillotine."
"When they're trapped and unable to move forward or backward by Mutombo, you then shuffle in from the weak side and use your other hand to catch the ball and slice it. You're not a defensive liability; you're the last one to catch the ball in my defensive trap."
A long silence fell over the office.
In Golden State, everyone was watching his medical report, warning him that he was a 33-year-old fragile burden who might shatter again any day.
But here, the young president, a few years younger than him, used a set of advanced tactical logic that he had never heard of before to tell him: your football IQ, positioning, and left hand are precisely the most crucial pieces of this resurgent powerhouse.
Even the unspoken subtext of Lin Qi exuded a fatal allure... In this system that doesn't overwork the body and doesn't require top-notch defense in one-on-one situations, Mullin's most vulnerable Achilles tendon not only won't collapse, but it can also help him achieve a miraculous physical recovery. The whole of America is betting that he's a porcelain doll who can't play many games, but only Lin Qi knows that this old man can achieve an almost terrifying attendance rate in Indiana for the next few years.
Mullin remained silent for a long time, and then a long-lost smile of relief, belonging to a pure basketball player, slowly appeared on his chiseled, hard face.
"I've played basketball for twelve years," Murray, extending his left hand to shake Lin Qi's, his voice slightly hoarse. "And no one has ever explained my off-ball movement and defense so clearly before."
"I like this new role, Lin. Tell me, when can we go to the gym for training?"
After seeing Mullin off, Lin Qi returned to his desk and lit a cigarette.
On the tactical board, Mutombo, Garnett, Nash, and Mullin, four magnetic stickers, complement each other. The defensive system is there, the playmaker is there, and the off-ball spacing nuclear weapon that is ahead of its time is there.
Lin Qi exhaled a smoke ring and looked again toward the more distant west, toward Phoenix.
"Soon." Lin Qi looked out the window and murmured to himself.
In August, that fierce wind is about to blow.