When the San Antonio Spurs walked onto the floor, the air at TD Garden seemed to drop 10 degrees. No deafening boos—just a heavy, thick silence. The green wave still rolled, but every eye locked on those black-and-white jerseys—especially the guy in No. 21, Tim Duncan, his face as calm as ever. That painful Finals Game 7 overtime loss? A scar not yet healed, quietly reopened.
LeBron James stood near midcourt, finishing his stretches. His eyes swept over the Spurs' starting five: Duncan, Tony Parker, Manu Ginobili, Bruce Bowen, Rasho Nesterović. Sharp as an eagle's—no fear, just cold focus. This wasn't a regular-season game. It was a mental and tactical preview. A fight for pride, for the season's direction.
Tipoff! Mark Blount batted the ball to LeBron. Game on.
First possession: LeBron didn't force a shot. He dribbled past halfcourt, signals clear, getting his team set. The Spurs' defense snapped into place—tight, precise, like gears clicking. Bruce Bowen stuck to him like glue—no brute force, just constant nagging, sharp reads, and tiny moves that danced the rulebook's line.
LeBron called Blount for a screen. Duncan's defense was masterful—he didn't fully step out to give LeBron a shot, didn't let Blount roll free. Just inched up, a moving wall, squeezing LeBron's drive. LeBron side-stepped after the screen, mid-range jumper—offseason work, right there!
Thud! It bounced off the back rim. Duncan grabbed the rebound clean.
Spurs' turn: Parker pushed fast, but Celtics got back quick. Ball moved around, finally to Duncan in the post. Back-to-back on Blount, spin, fadeaway at 45 degrees—simple, no flash, but deadly accurate.
Swish! 2-0.
First two plays, tone set: Spurs' discipline vs. Celtics' talent.
LeBron didn't flinch. Next possession, he had the ball again—this time, waved everyone out. One-on-one with Bowen! Crowd stood up! LeBron crouched low, crossovers fast, then his signature "tank drive"—shoulder into Bowen, just enough space, three steps! Duncan came to help, but LeBron hung in the air, absorbed the contact, twisted, and flipped the ball up!
It banked in! Whistle—foul. And-one.
LeBron hit the floor hard, pounded his chest, stone-faced as he walked to the line. Made the free throw. 2-3. A tough bucket—his message sent.
But the Spurs didn't blink. Their offense flowed: Parker slipped past screens like a loach, layups or passes; Ginobili ghosted around, snake drives and cold 3s; Duncan, always the steady finisher, the anchor. Celtics stayed close—LeBron's power, Ray Allen's 3s off screens.
End of first quarter: 28-26, Celtics up by 2. But it felt like a trick. The Spurs' execution, their defense—home fans shifted, nervous. LeBron had 9 points, 2 assists; Duncan? 6 points, 4 rebounds, easy.
Second quarter: rotations. Spurs' bench was deep—Brent Barry, Robert Horry, Devin Brown—still sharp, still playing the system. Celtics? More Eric Williams and Ricky Davis, leaning on their talent.
Coach Popovich stood courtside, arms crossed, eyes sharp. He tweaked defense with gestures, calls—targeting the Celtics' second unit, where the scoring spots were obvious. Celtics' offense slowed, stuck.
Coach Doc Rivers looked anxious, yelling from the sideline—no luck. Spurs went on an 8-2 run, took the lead.
Crunch time: LeBron checked back in early. Instantly, he steadied things. Rebound off a miss, he pushed the break. Ginobili was backpedaling—LeBron didn't force it. Drew the defense, then a cross-court bounce pass—perfect to Ray Allen, streaking to the corner! Ray caught it, no hesitation, 3-pointer!
Swish! Tied up.
That shot fired up the team. LeBron played more playmaker, using his gravity to set up teammates. On D, he switched to Parker, using his strength to slow the The French Sports Car.
But Spurs had an answer. Shot clock winding down, ball to Robert Horry—Mr. Clutch. He let it fly, buzzer beats, 3-pointer! Halftime: Spurs up 52-50.
Locker room: tense. Rivers yelled about defensive rebounds, protecting the paint. LeBron sat by his locker, towel over his head, replaying every play in his mind. He knew Popovich had more tricks. The real test was next.
Third quarter: Spurs cranked up D. Bruce Bowen's nagging got worse—arms, knees, tiny moves. Refs called some, let some go. LeBron's drives got stuffed, his shot off.
Spurs pounced: Duncan scored inside twice, Parker hit a mid-range. Lead stretched to 8. TD Garden's cheers faded. Worry hung thick.