TD Garden roared like a storm. LeBron James and Ray Allen took the floor together for the first time—officially. Jason Kidd dished passes to fuel the Nets' comeback, but LeBron and Ray shut it down with cold, sharp "LeBron-Ray Connections." After a controversial call, LeBron whispered to Kidd, "Times change." Then he hit a 3 to kill the game. When asked about their chemistry later, LeBron shrugged: "We just play the right way."
The 2003-2004 NBA regular season finally tipped off—anticipation thick in the air. For the Boston Celtics, this opener meant more than most. The sting of losing Paul Pierce, the gamble to build around LeBron James, the new hope with Ray Allen—all turned this home game against rivals the New Jersey Nets into a ceremony, a fateful showdown.
TD Garden drowned in a sea of green. The air hummed with hope, nerves, and madness. When the PA announcer dragged out the name—"From St. Vincent-St. Mary High School… LeBronnnnn… James!!"—the arena's roof nearly blew off. LeBron was last out of the tunnel, high-fiving teammates. His face was calm, as always, but his eyes burned brighter than ever. He looked up at the 17 championship banners, then at the empty spot on the wall—like a silent vow.
The game started, and the Nets struck first. Led by veteran playmaker Jason Kidd, their offense clicked—clean, sharp. Kenyon Martin dominated inside; Richard Jefferson cut hard to the rim. The Nets took a small lead.
The Celtics? Still finding their rhythm in the new system. LeBron didn't force shots. He played like a calm general—passing, moving, trying to steady the team. But a few passes got read, their 3s clanked off the rim.
Midway through the first quarter: 12-18, Celtics down 6. Home fans shifted, nervous.
Then LeBron had the ball at the top, guarded by Jefferson. He waved for a screen—but just before it came, his eyes flicked to Ray, who was looping up from the baseline, using two screens.
Kidd's focus stayed on LeBron, his help defense a split second late.
That's all the space they needed.
LeBron didn't drive. Instead, he fired a one-handed laser pass—no windup, no warning. The ball sliced between two defenders, landing right in Ray's hands at the left corner, 45 degrees.
Ray caught it, jumped, shot—fluid as breathing.
Swish!
3 points. 15-18.
The Garden exploded. Their first official assist together—classic LeBron-Ray Connection.
That shot unlocked the Celtics. Next possession: Nets missed, LeBron grabbed the rebound and pushed fast. He charged like a tank, drawing three defenders, then passed to Eric Williams trailing behind. Easy layup. 17-18.
The Celtics went on a run, taking the lead. LeBron took control—no more holding back. He showed off his offseason work: a tough post-up on Jefferson, a power drive past Kenyon Martin for a layup and foul, even a tough fadeaway as the shot clock died.
On defense, he guarded Kidd, using his strength to hound the tempo master. After stops, he pushed fast breaks, wearing down the Nets' D.
Ray? He became LeBron's deadliest weapon. He ran nonstop through screens, getting open 3 looks every time. LeBron's passes hit him right where he wanted, right when he wanted. By halftime, Ray had 4 3s, and the Celtics led 58-49.
The second half: Nets fought back. Kidd proved why he was elite. He adjusted, using screens to attack the Celtics' interior, and called for double teams on LeBron. The lead shrank to 3.
But LeBron stepped up—star time. First, he drew an offensive foul on Kenyon Martin. Then, he stripped Kidd one-on-one, pushed the break, and found Ray for his 5th 3.
Still, the Nets wouldn't fold. Final 3 minutes: Kidd found Kerry Kittles for a corner 3. Nets cut it to 95-96—just 1 down. TD Garden went silent, tense.
Celtics' ball. LeBron held it, killing time. Kidd guarded him, eyes sharp as a hawk. 8 seconds left. LeBron drove hard past Kidd, then met help at the free-throw line. He stopped, faded back—!
Whistle.
Foul on Jason Collins, the help defender.
Controversial call—Collins barely touched him. Nets players and coaches swarmed the ref. Kidd threw up his hands, frustrated.
Play paused. LeBron walked to the free-throw line, passing Kidd.
Kidd muttered, "Ain't no real shot, rookie. Got lucky with the call."
LeBron didn't stop. He spoke quiet—only Kidd could hear: "Times change, Jason. Now the rules side with the future."
Cold, confident—like stating a fact. Kidd froze, staring at LeBron, something complicated in his eyes.
LeBron made both free throws. 98-95.
Next possession: Nets missed. LeBron grabbed the rebound. Nets fouled Ray. He made both. 100-95.
Time ran out. Nets' last chance: Kidd's desperate 3 clanged off. Game over.
Boston Celtics won the opener—close, but convincing.
LeBron finished with 32 points, 11 assists, 8 rebounds—almost a triple-double. Ray had 6 3s, 26 points. Together, they'd won it.
Postgame, reporters swarmed them.
"LeBron, your chemistry with Ray—you two play like you've been teammates for years. How?"
LeBron wiped sweat, calm. "Ray's a top pro. He knows how to play, how to win. My job's to get him the ball where he needs it. Chemistry? We just play the right way. The rest happens." He gave credit to the team, as always.
Ray got the same question.
"LeBron's vision's one of a kind," Ray said, genuine. "He sees plays before they happen. All I gotta do is get open and make the shot. It's fun."
Asked about the controversial call, LeBron played it perfect: "Refs make their calls. I trust they're fair. What matters is we took the chance and won."
In the locker room, mood was light—opening-night wins lift everyone. LeBron and Ray high-fived. No big speeches, but their eyes said it all: trust, satisfaction.
Danny Ainge and Doc Rivers watched the game tape in the office.
"Our gamble paid off," Ainge smiled. "LeBron and Ray—they're perfect together."
Rivers nodded. "More than that—LeBron's leadership. He gets everyone involved. That's what scares teams."
LeBron sat by his locker, listening to music. The win was expected. Ray's fit? Proof his offseason plan worked. But this was just the start—long season ahead.
He knew this win wasn't just another regular-season W. It was a statement: the new Celtics era was here. No Pierce? With LeBron and Ray, Boston was still a force—to reckon with, even feared.
The reborn king had led his new army to the first big win of their dynasty rebuild. His eyes were already on the next opponent—on the future, farther down the road.