On the sidelines, Kobe Bryant shot to his feet. He clenched his fist, punching the air as his eyes locked on the scoreboard.
The lead was down to twenty-one.
He turned toward Phil Jackson, urgency burning in his gaze — a silent plea: Put me back in. Let me fight.
Phil met his eyes and gave a small shake of the head, one hand raised as if to steady the fire. Not yet.
Then his voice rang out across the floor.
"Keep feeding Jiang Chen! Get him the ball!"
Farmar, Luke Walton, and the rest of the bench unit snapped their heads toward him, nodding instantly. The heaviness that had hung over them for so long lifted, replaced by something sharper — belief.
Their posture straightened, their movement grew crisp, their voices louder.
Jiang Chen's sudden burst had changed everything.
Maybe they wouldn't erase the lead. But one thing was clear — Boston wasn't walking to the title unchallenged.
Even in garbage time, the Lakers would make them earn every point.
...
"Pierce! Go handle that kid."
On the Celtics' sideline, Doc Rivers stood, motioning toward Paul Pierce.
Pierce hesitated for half a second, brows lifting. Me? Guarding the Lakers' twelfth man wasn't exactly how he pictured finishing a Finals game.
But then his expression shifted. This was about more than ego — Boston's first title in over a decade was on the line. If shutting down a rookie was what it took to close it out, he'd do it himself.
Besides… the kid had started to show off in TD Garden. Pierce wasn't about to let that stand.
He pulled off his warm-up top and walked to the scorer's table, jaw set. Beside him, Rivers sent Ray Allen and Rajon Rondo to join.
"Close it out," Rivers said, clapping their shoulders firmly. "End this run before it gets any ideas."
When the trio stepped toward the floor, the arena erupted. The roar that swept through the Garden said it all — the real Celtics were back on the court.
…
On the next possession, Pierce went straight at Jiang Chen. He tilted his head, a faint smirk forming.
"Youngster, enjoy this. You've done enough to make the coach put me on you. Not every bench guy gets that."
Then, without another word, he turned his back, sealed Jiang Chen in the post, and raised his hand. Rondo lofted the entry pass high.
The Garden crowd leaned forward, waiting to see Pierce bully the rookie.
But the moment Pierce made contact, he felt it — like backing into solid iron. Jiang Chen didn't budge. No matter how he shifted or lowered his shoulder, the rookie held firm.
What the hell?
Pierce's eyes narrowed. The resistance wasn't normal — it felt like trying to move a wall.
Across from him, Jiang Chen's focus sharpened. His defense rooted by Tsugawa Tomoki's Strongest Wall, his body reinforced by Murasakibara Atsushi's physical talent, every collision only steadied him more. The force pulsing through his frame was unreal — heavy, balanced, immovable.
Pierce grunted, trying again and again, but each shove met the same result — nothing. Jiang Chen gave up no ground.
Finally, Pierce spun into a step-back jumper.
Bang!
The ball clanged off the rim.
Jiang Chen had shadowed him perfectly, cutting off every angle until only a low-percentage fadeaway remained.
The rebound fell to the Lakers, who immediately burst into transition. The crowd buzzed with disbelief.
With three starters now back on the floor, Boston's pace and intensity rose. Their defense recovered fast, closing off the break.
Pierce stuck to Jiang Chen like a shadow, refusing to leave an inch of space.
The crowd murmured.
The Celtics' captain—guarding a rookie? It was a strange sight.
Even Kobe, sitting on the bench, arched a brow. For the first time, there was a flicker of surprise—then satisfaction. The rookie had forced Boston's leader to take him seriously. Jiang Chen wasn't just keeping up; he was pulling the Lakers back into the fight.
On the court, Jiang Chen stayed composed. Opponent, name, reputation—it didn't matter.
He darted off the ball, weaving through two screens. As he broke free, the pass came.
Pierce chased hard, closing fast, but Jiang Chen rose in one smooth motion and released.
The form was effortless, clean — a shot even Ray Allen couldn't ignore. Watching from a few feet away, he frowned slightly, recognizing the touch.
Swish.
The ball fell through. The Lakers' bench exploded. Towels flew.
"Let's go! Keep feeding him!" Fisher yelled, pumping a fist.
"It's down to eighteen!" Gasol shouted, eyes wide. "Six minutes left—there's still a chance!"
Beep!
The referee's whistle cut through the noise — timeout, Boston.
Doc Rivers stormed into the huddle, slamming his clipboard down hard.
"This is the Finals!" he barked. "We were up thirty-three! Now it's eighteen — in four minutes! You want to give them life?"
He jabbed his marker against the board.
"Pierce — I don't care how, but stop him. Not another basket."
"Ray — when you get the look, take it. You're one of the best shooters alive; play like it."
"KG — next rotation, you're in. Control the boards. No second chances."
The huddle fell silent under Rivers' glare. The message was clear: the Celtics were done playing around.
…
On the Lakers' sideline, Phil Jackson was on his feet.
"Gasol, Kobe, Fisher, Odom — you're in next!" His usually calm voice carried an edge of urgency.
"Listen up — Jiang Chen just gave us a lifeline. We ride it. He's the hot hand now. Kobe, Pau — work off him. Get him looks, create space, make it count."
Even as he spoke, there was a flicker of disbelief in Phil's eyes. Who could have imagined this? The rookie he'd thrown in for garbage time was suddenly the one keeping their season alive.
And yet, here they were.
The Lakers were heading back onto the floor with Jiang Chen at the center of their offense — and for the first time all night, Boston looked unsettled.
The bench fell silent. Then, almost as one, every head turned toward Kobe.
Everyone knew whose team this was.
Kobe Bryant didn't just lead — he defined their identity. And now Phil was asking him to shift that balance, to play around a rookie who'd barely seen the court all season.
It sounded unthinkable.
Yes, Jiang Chen had caught fire, dragging them back from the edge. But he was still a bench player — a name no one expected to hear in a Finals timeout.
Normally, when Kobe and Gasol were on the floor, everything flowed through them. At most, Jiang Chen would spot up and wait for a kick-out pass. That was the hierarchy.
But Phil had just turned it upside down.
Would Kobe really accept that?
The question hung in the air — until Kobe spoke.
"No problem," he said, steady and certain. "Jiang Chen earned it. If we're going to make this run, we go with him."
The words hit like a spark. The frustration that had weighed him down was gone, replaced by sharp, focused resolve. His pride hadn't vanished — it had shifted, aligning with the mission to win.
The bench players exchanged glances, stunned. Kobe Bryant — the man who lived for the final shot — was now pushing someone else to lead.
Phil clapped his hands once. "Alright! Then let's finish strong!"
Energy surged through the huddle. Eyes lit up, voices rose. When they stepped back onto the floor, it wasn't just about trimming the lead anymore.
They were chasing something bigger — a comeback no one believed possible.
...
"Already fifteen points — Jiang Chen's performance has been incredible tonight!" Yang Jian's voice carried real excitement.
Just weeks ago, he had all but given up on the rookie. Yet here, in the most desperate stretch of the Finals, the player once buried at the end of the bench was dragging the Lakers back into the fight.
Yang Yi exhaled, the tension easing from his tone. "What a turnaround. Jiang Chen has become the Lakers' unexpected weapon. No matter how this ends, he's earned his place in the league tonight. By season's end, teams will be lining up for him."
For Chinese fans watching, it was a moment years in the making.
A forgotten name had come alive again — in garbage time of all places — breathing life into a fading Finals.
Yang Yi's voice softened, carrying quiet pride. "For Chinese fans, this is a night to remember. Even if Jiang Chen only becomes a solid rotation player next year, that alone would be an achievement. He's not Yao Ming — not that kind of star — but if he can stand his ground in the NBA, that's enough to make us proud."
Memories of his rough rookie year flickered through their minds — the doubt, the ridicule. But now, under the Finals lights, Jiang Chen was rewriting every line of that story.
...
…
Boston, TD Garden.
Timeout over. Both teams returned to the floor with their starters back in the game.
The Celtics took possession.
Rondo crossed half court, dribbling low and fast before swinging the ball to Paul Pierce.
Doc Rivers' plan was clear — go straight at the supposed weak link. To Boston, Jiang Chen was still just a bench player caught in the spotlight by chance. If there was a crack to exploit, it had to be through him.
That was the weight of perception. No matter how strong his defense had looked earlier, most still called it luck.
"Post him up! Let him know this is the Finals!" Kevin Garnett roared from under the rim, his voice echoing through the Garden.
Trash talk was part of Garnett's rhythm. He leaned into Gasol, barking with every shove. His energy and edge had been the difference all series. Even as Pau fought back, Garnett's intensity held firm — sharp elbows, endless motion, relentless presence.
Without Gasol's usual impact inside, the Lakers had leaned entirely on Kobe's brilliance. Boston's formula was simple: crowd him, cut the lanes, grind the clock.
But now, something new had entered the equation — Jiang Chen.
Pierce attacked hard, fueled by Garnett's shout. He sized Jiang Chen up, rocking with jab steps, then pulled back into his smooth mid-range jumper.
The release felt pure.
Clang.
The crowd groaned as the ball hit the front rim.
Odom leapt through the crowd, snatching the rebound and instantly pushing it ahead to Kobe.
The Celtics sprinted back, green jerseys forming a wall. Every eye was on Bryant — the Finals closer, the one who always took the shot.
Rondo dropped back, bracing for the pull-up.
But Kobe didn't rise.
He swung the ball.
Right in stride, Jiang Chen caught it curling around a screen on the right wing, 45 degrees from the basket.
Pierce and Garnett froze.
Kobe Bryant… had passed the ball.