The second half begins.
Trailing by twelve points, the second unit returned to the court. The atmosphere completely changed the moment Mark Price received the ball. The former King of Cleveland rubbed his knee, which was still red and swollen from the recent ice pack, walked to the top of the arc, and made a very subtle downward gesture towards P.J. Brown and Outlaw.
"High position, create some space for me." Price's voice was hoarse, exuding an undeniable superstar authority.
In the first round, P.J. Brown's massive frame lifted up, using his broad shoulders to firmly block Sam Cassell behind him.
Sam Cassell was completely shut down. Starting power forward Garnett displayed terrifying mobility, his black spider arms instantly lunging forward, coordinating with the chasing Sam Cassell, attempting to use a giant net to surround Price. In the first half, the starters relied on this unreasonable talent to devour the second team's passes.
This time, however, Garnett was facing Mark Price.
Just as the two sweaty, muscular bodies were about to close together and block each other's view, Price didn't even look up. His left shoulder slumped down, but his peripheral vision was fixed on the mere twenty-centimeter gap to the right of Garnett's massive body.
That was Garnett's pivot foot, which he instinctively spread out to brake because he was moving too fast laterally.
The 20-year-old prodigy was too young; he was instinctively distracted by the shoulder-dropping feint, shifting his weight by half a step.
It was through this almost invisible gap that Price, like a scalpel as thin as a cicada's wing, seized the half-second delay Garnett made in retracting his foot and "slipped" past the genius's ribs.
Clean and efficient, without a trace of worldliness.
On the sidelines, Steve Nash, sitting on the third-string bench, suddenly stood up, staring at Price's almost artistic footwork, and frantically mimicking it in his mind.
By the time Sam Cassell and Garnett turned around, the paint was already clear. Mutombo, guarding the paint, hadn't even had time to jump when Price gently flicked the ball with his right hand, sending it gliding gracefully through the air before grazing the backboard and into the basket.
Swish.
"The defensive rotation is too slow!" Sam Cassell slapped his thigh in frustration.
The next possession, the exact same tactic. Garnett went all out, lunging forward with the force to almost knock someone over. However, before the double team could close in, Price flicked his wrist inexplicably, and the basketball miraculously passed through Sam Cassell's legs, traversed most of the court, and landed precisely in the weak-side corner.
Chris Mullin was already in position. Facing the long arms of the perimeter defender Eddie Jones, the " God's Left Hand " didn't even dribble. He simply made a reverse cut, using Outlaw's off-ball screen to move half a body length to the side, receive the ball, and jump.
That iconic golden buzz cut stood motionless under the spotlight, the arc of his shot so high it was almost despair-inducing.
Swish! A crisp sound.
Immediately following was Brown's mid-range jumper, Finley, using a screen, drove to the basket for a powerful one-handed dunk. The second unit's offense, under Price's direction, was completely brought to life.
"Lin..." Thibodeau stared at the rapidly changing numbers on his notebook, wiping his forehead in disbelief. "How come the second unit's passing and movement is even smoother than the starters'? Dikembe and Kevin can't even touch the ball."
Lin Qi watched the white-clad second unit move fluidly across the court, and a smile involuntarily crept onto his face. The starters were strong on defense, but on offense, Mutombo was a lob-scoring machine, Garnett was too rough, and spacing was cramped. The second unit, however, was one he had specially created for "maximum spacing." Without a center blocking the paint, Price was a master of pick-and-rolls, Mullin was a top-tier shooter, Finley was excellent at one-on-one scoring, and Brown also had a decent midrange shot.
"See that, Tom?" Lin Qi said casually, hands in his pockets. "Other teams' substitutes are for filling garbage time. My substitutes are for killing."
Late in the third quarter, Price hit a signature pick-and-roll pull-up two-pointer, making it 48-47, with the second unit managing to take a one-point lead.
Sam Cassell stared at Price. For the first time, that face, which always wore a roguish grin, turned completely grim.
In the fourth quarter, the training match completely turned into a fierce battle between the two top point guards.
Sam Cassell unleashed the full force he displayed during his championship run in Houston. He stopped spewing meaningless trash talk and instead used his massive frame to repeatedly back down Price, push aside defenders with his elbows, and on the verge of a foul, unleash an audacious fadeaway jumper. It was a chaotic skill honed purely by his wildness and the experience of two championships.
Price, with his tactical acumen ahead of his time, directed the second unit to constantly create open spaces.
But in the final two minutes, the genius Garnett awakened. After being thoroughly outmaneuvered for two quarters, KG displayed a terrifying rate of evolution on the defensive end. When Price attempted another screen with a fake move, Garnett didn't move in advance. Instead, he used his 2.11-meter height and lightning-fast second jump to disrupt Price's passing lane in mid-air with one hand.
Snap. The starter made a crucial steal, and on the way back, Sam Cassell faced Price's finger that was blocking his eye and forced a floater that went in.
The final whistle blew, and the score was set. The starting lineup narrowly won by two points in the final moments.
Everyone was panting heavily, their sweat soaking the floor.
Sam Cassell wiped the sweat from his face with his jersey as he strode up to Price. His cocky grin vanished, and the arrogant alien stared at Price's tattered knees for a full five seconds.
"Dude," Sam Cassell spat out his chewing gum, his voice deep and rough, "You're fucking hard to guard. If you had a weaker inside player, you would have ripped the starters apart."
Price slightly raised his eyes, his four-time All-Star pride showing no sign of weakness. Meeting Sam Cassell's aggressive gaze, he coldly replied, "I couldn't stop those last few floaters you took by brute force. But next time, I'll disrupt your shot. You won't be able to hold onto your starting position."
For the first time, the two point guards, both focused on the same spot, saw genuine respect in each other's eyes.
The players gradually dispersed, leaving only Lin Qi and head coach Adelman under the lights of the training hall.
"Lin, I was practically tearing my hair out in the office, not knowing how to appease these two troublemakers." Adelman rubbed his chin, his eyes filled with fervor and excitement. "I've figured it out now. This isn't a problem at all, it's a good thing."
" Sam Cassell leads the starting lineup, using his muscles, ferocity, and clutch performance to battle the toughest players in the league, dominating the start and the last five minutes; Price leads the second unit, using his basketball IQ and the Princeton offense to revitalize the attack. While other teams bring in substitutes to catch their breath, our players will step in and completely tear apart their defense. Together, they can torment the opponent from the first minute to the forty-eighth minute."
Lin Qi smiled; that was exactly what Adelman wanted to hear. A master strategist is never afraid of healthy internal competition within a team. The more Sam Cassell and Price tried to prove themselves superior, the tougher the new backbone of this Celtics became.
The season is about to begin.
Lin Qi slowly raised his head, looking at the somewhat faded green championship banners on the wall of the training hall, and murmured to himself in the darkness.
He couldn't wait to see the expressions on the faces of his superior opponents when these two point guards, with their contrasting yet equally lethal styles, were revealed to the entire league.