"Get lost, Ron, leave him alone!" Michael Reed pushed Artest away; after all, he couldn’t just stand by while his teammate was being bullied.
Artest completely ignored Reed and continued his aggression: "Don’t touch , this has nothing to do with you, you ugly shooter. If you want to join, I’ll deal with you too."
"Who can you handle with that face Roger smashed? I’m afraid your eyeballs will fall out this ti!"
"Say that again!?"
After the verbal altercation, shoving was inevitable. Seeing that a conflict was about to break out even before the ga started, the scene imdiately beca chaotic.
It looked like things were about to get out of control until a man’s loud shout echoed on the court: "Ron!"
Ben Wallace, the official prescription for Ron Artest’s mania.
Ben to the rescue, Artest released Michael Reed’s collar and pushed him away.
"Stay away from them. I don’t want you getting ejected before the ga even starts. Get back to your side and warm up!" Big Ben reprimanded Artest, then glanced at Reed and nodded.
Even though the Dynasty Eagles had changed, the camaraderie between Michael Reed and Ben Wallace remained. Their personal relationship wasn’t particularly strong, but when they crossed paths, they’d at least show respect.
Everyone was Roger’s buddy, no need for conflicts.
Artest glanced at Big Ben with dissatisfaction, but had no choice; he couldn’t win against that afro, so he had to comply and quietly retreated to his half of the court.
But before returning to his side, Artest didn’t forget to intimidate Jas: "As you know, our Mr. Afro is a big softie who likes to play with kids. But I’m definitely not the kind of guy who babysits; once the ga starts, you’ll see."
Returning to his side of the court, Artest ward up seriously and then announced to everyone: "You guys don’t have to do anything today because the young leader of the Cavaliers will score zero."
And then, and then Artest got thoroughly beaten by Jas.
At the start, Jas shot a mid-range pull-up jumper against Artest’s defense.
The whole world knew mid-range wasn’t Jas’s sweet spot, yet he scored from there—what can you do?
Well, it’s just one possession, could just be luck.
But in the next possession, Jas made an inside-out move, pulled back, and scored again from mid-range!
Other than looking a bit stiff, with legs a bit too wide, and less aesthetically pleasing, he seed possessed by Michael Jordan and Roger!
"Ron, what’s going on!?" Seeing Jas easily make two consecutive shots, Big Ben started to shout in frustration.
Though the team was resting its players, as a team that emphasized defensive discipline, Big Ben couldn’t allow anyone to enter the playoffs with such a defensive attitude.
"Damn it, shut it, Afro! He can’t score another mid-range shot next possession!"
Artest wasn’t lying; LeBron Jas indeed didn’t score from mid-range next possession, as Artest used his decent lateral speed to perfectly block all of Cleveland’s number 23’s penetration routes.
So... Jas scored from beyond the three-point line!
"Three-pointer made! LeBron has scored seven straight points since the start! The defending champions might already be thinking about their conference finals opponents—this is by far the Pistons’ worst defensive display all season!" said the comntator, amazed by Jas’s performance.
Jas had already felt during warm-ups that he had an incredible touch, so after the ga started, he tried mid-range and beyond the arc. Everyone saw the results—his hot hand carried over into the official ga.
The 19-year-old Jas felt as if he’d been subrged underwater and was finally able to breathe, feeling exhilarated.
He glanced at Artest, who’d made grandiose pre-ga boasts, and muttered, "Heh, defending champion."
This completely enraged Artest and led him to make another mistake on the next play.
This ti, during a Pistons’ attack, Artest held the ball and attempted to forcefully drive against Jas.
But he resembled a talentless adult film director who only knows to charge straight ahead.
His drive had no feints or changes in direction, just him directly colliding with Jas as if he were a defensive end trying to tackle a quarterback.
Unsurprisingly, the referee blew the whistle, calling an offensive foul on Ron Artest.
If actions like this aren’t called, the ga can’t be played fairly.
From the start until now, Artest had looked like a clown.
Jas, still on the ground, clapped his hands, while Big Ben scolded Artest again.
The ter recording Artest’s internal anger started to climb, getting closer to the explosion point.
In the entire first quarter, Jas displayed extraordinary performance, scoring 11 points, 3 assists, and 3 rebounds in a single period. He thrilled the Cleveland fans and worried the Hawks fans watching from TVs about whether their halfti champagne celebrations were jinxed.
Jas regained his confidence and energy, making everyone feel like they were dood, while Roger even lanted being the most incompetent challenger ever.
Fine, today I’ll make sure none of you can laugh!
In the second quarter, Jas’s remarkable touch continued.
The defensive strategy Artest excelled in—allowing shots but not drives—proved ineffective today.
In the seventh minute of the second quarter, when Jas hit a back-turnaround jump shot from mid-range, the fans in the Palace of Auburn Hills arena reached a boiling point of anger.
They couldn’t believe that the defending champion Pistons were being tornted by an inept rookie.
"We all know the Detroit Pistons are resting, but if they go into the playoffs in this condition, they will definitely face a lot of trouble. Will Michael’s efforts be in vain?" the comntator lanted over the Pistons’ disappointing performance. Resting or not, they couldn’t just throw away the face of the defending champions.
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