Chapter 56: Stealing from a Teammate

After another two minutes of play, He Xinghui and Brand were substituted for a rest. Yet the Celtics’ star player, Paul Pierce, remained on the court, seemingly intent on playing the entire first quarter.

Overworking the starters is a favorite tactic among many coaches. So-called strategy is simply about orchestrating movement and cooperation to give players better shooting opportunities and increase their accuracy. If a player can consistently score even with defenders in his face, then tactics become unnecessary. Sending starters against the opponent’s bench often requires no strategy at all.

Pierce was dominating, forcing the Clippers’ bench to focus their defensive efforts on him. At one point, three players surrounded Pierce on the court. The cost of this was that the Celtics’ bench players found space to shine—Lafrentz and Banks, two substitutes who usually average single-digit scores, had already combined for twelve points in less than a quarter, performing above their usual level.

By midway through the second quarter, the Celtics had taken a two-point lead, much to the displeasure of the home fans.

“He! Put He in!”
“We want He!”

The crowd loudly chanted He Xinghui’s name and nickname—a treatment enjoyed by only a select few players.

“Go ahead,” Dunleavy relented, unable to resist the fans’ demands. The fans’ word is law.

Before entering, He Xinghui waved to the crowd, as though he were the team's hidden ace, drawing envy from others.

The game resumed. After a tactical run, He Xinghui found himself matched up against Pierce.

He seized the moment and said, “Our home fans are adorable, aren’t they? Do Boston fans ever treat you with this much passion?”

Pierce felt a pang in his heart. He had played in Boston for nearly eight years, performed brilliantly, yet his popularity paled in comparison to He Xinghui’s moment of adoration.

The Celtics’ illustrious history—the team with the most championships in the league—meant that anything short of a title was seen as failure. Pierce’s individual excellence wasn’t enough; fans craved a championship to restore the team’s glory.

The Clippers’ history was pitiful. Even just making the playoffs was seen by fans as progress, deserving of encouragement.

Moreover, Boston wasn’t known for its friendliness toward Black players.

Pierce knew that the only way to enjoy the kind of adulation He Xinghui just received would be to lead his team to a championship—or switch teams altogether.

Despite the conversation, He Xinghui’s actions didn’t stop. He had begun to show hints of Huang Shaotian’s flair—talking trash without missing a beat in his play.

Taking advantage of Pierce’s momentary distraction, He Xinghui drove past him, took the shot, and scored.

“MVP! MVP!”
A fervent fan shouted a slogan that embarrassed the other star fans. Though He Xinghui’s performance was indeed impressive, chanting MVP was a bit excessive.

The world of diehard fans is impossible for most to understand.

The Celtics attacked. Davis and Pierce executed a pick-and-roll, bringing Pierce face-to-face with He Xinghui.

With He’s slight frame, pressing against Pierce did nothing to impede his dribble or shot. Pierce easily shook off He Xinghui and made the mid-range jumper.

“Beautiful! That’s how you play against the Clippers!”
On TNT, Barkley shouted excitedly, nearly provoking Smith to burst out laughing.

On the court, possession switched.

He Xinghui singled out Davis, successfully breaking through again. Though he missed the final shot, his approach seemed sound.

Sure enough, after another round, He Xinghui scored. His high shooting percentage meant that unless the Celtics found a way to limit him, defeat was inevitable.

On the Celtics’ bench, the assistant coach advised Rivers to have Pierce double-team, gambling that the other Clippers wouldn’t have hot hands.

On the court, He Xinghui worried about being double-teamed.

So, as he retreated on defense, he deliberately passed by Rivers and shouted, “Better send someone to double-team me! Davis can’t stop me!”

“....”

Rivers was beside himself. He had planned to call a timeout after this possession to arrange for double-teaming. But now, after He Xinghui’s call-out, he felt awkward about doing so—it would look like he was taking He Xinghui’s advice.

He Xinghui quickly dashed away after the remark, avoiding any retaliation from the opposing players.

Luckily, he ran fast—there were indeed fringe players on the Celtics bench tempted to act out to curry favor with the coach, but He Xinghui was too quick and they were too slow.

“Ah Xing is trash-talking the opposing coach again. There’s really no need for that,” Zhang Reason commented.

Though He Xinghui was a national player, some of his values were impossible for Zhang to accept. Play the game—why taunt the coach?

“Maybe he’s just excited,” Sun Zhengping offered.

Compared to the serious domestic commentary, TNT’s was much more lively. Barkley mercilessly mocked all the Celtics players as soft.

“If anyone ever trash-talked my coach, I’d beat them senseless. Today’s players are too soft,” Barkley declared.

On the court, the Celtics attacked.

“If you want to win, you need to ask the coach to switch defenders. But if you do, the coach will look down on you. So, what will you do?” He Xinghui asked.

It was a painful question. Davis didn’t want to answer.

Though he could keep quiet, he couldn’t avoid thinking about it. By halftime, Davis was suffering, approaching Rivers to request a defensive switch with Pierce.

This act of avoiding difficulty was a form of self-denial, deeply painful. The 300 points of anger he contributed to He Xinghui made that clear.

Davis’s suggestion was just what Rivers wanted. So, in the second half, Pierce was assigned to guard He Xinghui.

Though this burdened Pierce, the effect was obvious.

With the new tactics, the Celtics clawed back the score, and the teams went back and forth, keeping it close.

This intensity lasted until the final moments of the fourth quarter.

Eight seconds remained. The Clippers had possession, but trailed by three.

Dunleavy called a timeout to arrange a play: “They’ll expect us to shoot a three, so let’s quickly get two points under the basket, then send them to the free-throw line, hoping for one or two misses…”

What kind of play was this? Wouldn’t a straightforward three-pointer be simpler?

He Xinghui didn’t agree with the coach’s plan, but he couldn’t override Dunleavy.

Back on the court, Cassell inbounded and teammates took their positions.

When Brand cut to the basket, Cassell tossed him the ball.

Suddenly, a surprise—Jefferson, who hadn’t contributed much all game, anticipated perfectly and stole the ball.

“Oh my God.”

Home fans wailed; this was almost a death sentence for the Clippers.

But basketball courts often see the strange and unexpected.

Inexperienced Al Jefferson, worried about his free throws, passed to West amidst the chaos.

Mobley sprang forward, snatched the ball back, and pulled it out to the three-point line to reset.

Brand, following the coach’s plan, fought for position under the basket and called for the ball.

Mobley passed.

Meanwhile, He Xinghui, constantly moving, happened to run into the path of the ball.

In a flash, he reached out and intercepted it, as if stealing from his own teammate.

This scene sent several fans tumbling in disbelief.

How could someone make such a rookie mistake at a critical moment?

Oblivious to the ‘blunder,’ He Xinghui ignored Mobley’s shouts for a pass and instead controlled the ball beyond the three-point line.

Pierce, now exhausted after forty-two minutes on the court, chased him slowly.

Two seconds remained. He Xinghui took the shot.

The ball traced an arc, dropped into the basket, and the clock hit zero.

He Xinghui rushed to the sideline, shouting to the fans, “Tonight, God wants to work overtime!”