The name of the deceased was Rader Auerbach. On the last Saturday of October 2006, the old man extinguished his cigar for good. Unlike his glorious retreat in the summer of 1966 exactly forty years ago, this time, this great shadow, the evil emperor, the dark old man, has really left this world that he has conquered and is tired of, as the people who feared and cursed him forty years ago said.

Legend has it that when Heisenberg proposed the uncertainty principle, he once set an epitaph for himself. "He's lying somewhere here". To borrow this format, Red Auerbach, Cardinal, Cigar Coach, Old Monster. Whatever you call him, perhaps the most appropriate tribute for him would be to have a tombstone in Boston Garden, under the 16 championship flags. On the tombstone is written "He lies somewhere in the garden". Or, to paraphrase the Lakers head coach he's beaten countless times, "I hate to shove that cigar down his throat." ”

In 1994, the Lakers and Celtics, the two most common teams in NBA Finals history, played their final game against Boston Garden, which was flown with 16 championship flags. Then, the Celtics moved to the North Shore Bank Arena. Imagine a hand full of rings quietly closing the door, saying goodbye to the past prosperous years. At that time, Red Auerbach was shrouded in cigar smoke, living in the frightening videos of the Boston Celtics, and living in the biographies that NBA experts worked tirelessly wrote. As they walked down the road, no one would know that the 175-centimeter-tall old man who passed them was the most feared ruler in the history of the world's best basketball league, as advertised by all kinds of large propaganda posters throughout the United States.

On Nov. 1, the day the NBA's 2006-07 season began, Auerbach was buried in Washington. The regal superstars — Bob Cousy, Bill Russell, Kevin McHale — watched as the old man who had yelled at them all his life was buried in the dark ground. About 150 people were buried for him – a good fit for his career. You know, while he's led Boston to championship wins year after year, Boston Garden was barely full.

A lot of people will forget everything Auerbach did in Washington. In 1946, the descendant of Russian immigrants turned 29 years old, and the world around him lived through World War I, when he was an infant, the Great Depression and World War II. It was a glamorous, spinning, dream-shattering and rebuilding, bewildered generation beginning to grow old, Europe was still in ruins, and Americans were going through war and were beginning to want to have some fun. At that time, the NBA was still a basketball league with no 24-second time limit, narrow three-second zone, all-white athletes, no three-point shooting, and Farkes was the scoring leader with an average shooting rate of 30 percent per game and less than 24 points per game.

And that's how Auerbach started. He began his coaching career with the Washington Congressional team. By that time, he had already revealed part of what would later become a Boston saga—a Jew who was money-sensitive, energetic, brutal, and realistic. The Washington Congressional Team is a formidable team — and we certainly don't feel it in China 60 years later — but in Auerbach's three years in Congress, Washington topped the regular season division twice and won the regular season once. In the 1948-49 season, the Capitol team even made it to the finals. There, Auerbach met his lifelong enemy. The Minneapolis Lakers relied on George McCann, the first super-center in NBA history, to tackle the Capitol team.

I don't know what the 175-centimeter Auerbach felt when he saw the 208-centimeter McCann dominate the basketball court and ravage the Capitol team. It was the first time Auerbach came close to the pinnacle of success — even though NBA championships weren't as popular in the media in more than a hundred countries as they are now — but he was outright. A perfect, titan-like giant who led the Lakers to defeat Auerbach. It's like a meaningful prophecy and foreshadowing.

George McCann retired without waiting for the day Auerbach defeated him. In the cold arena of Minneapolis, the huge shadow gave Auerbach some instructions. Lakers head coach Kundera is the first coach in NBA history. There is public opinion that he is not talented, and he can only win five championships by relying on famous players such as McCann and Pollard. But Auerbach said of Kundera: "A lot of teams that are strong on paper, they get nothing. And Kundera, he made the Lakers a strong team, and he did a great job for it. ”

Remember the key word in this passage, which is the most important part of the praise that Auerbach gave to his opponents after one of the few defeats: the team.

In 1950, the Celtics brought in Auerbach, and the 33-year-old reluctantly accepted Bob Cousy, who lost a high school forward in a draw and gained a 185-centimeter white guard known for his juggling dribbling and beautiful transmissions. Auerbach put it this way: "I don't want to belittle anyone, whether it's Cussi or anyone else. I only care about ability, and Bob hasn't proven his ability to me yet. I would never make a choice just because he was a local. Coussy's fancy style of play can bring no more than 12 spectators. What really keeps the crowd going is a team that always wins. That's what I'm aiming for......"

This is his usual style of language, simple, direct, authoritarian and even brutal. From this year onwards, for a very long time, there was only one dictator's voice in the Boston Garden.

In the summer of 1954, George McCann retired and the Lakers dynasty ended. It was in the fall of that year that the NBA began to implement a 24-second time limit. The huge, slow centers were restricted. Auerbach has a keen grasp of this. Calculating Jews have their minds ahead of everyone else in the direction of the future world. The Celtics boast two 185-centimeter-tall white guards, Bob Cousy, an eight-time assist king, and Bill Sharman, a sharpshooter who has won seven free-throw goals in 11 years: they encapsulate the Celtics, or rather, Auerbach philosophy: pass, intelligence, projection.

Auerbach knew the game better than anyone of his time — the 175-centimeter-tall white man roared and cursed on the sidelines, like an angry knight driving his horse, while Cousie and Shaman ran to each other's baskets at the sound of his roar. Cousy's presence won the hearts of the audience, but Auerbach's roar was clearly offensive to some viewers. And when the audience in the '50s saw that this coach actually took black athletes from the draft and ordered these black men to play and compete with white people, they could only be dumbfounded. Martin Luther King Jr. didn't issue the "I Have a Dream" anti-racism manifesto until 1968, and more than a decade earlier, Auerbach had already defied the world's condemnation for appointing blacks. Perhaps nothing is more important to this Jew than reality and numbers. There was never a skin color in his eyes. He weaves a team like a businessman, a chess player, a general, a child playing jigsaw puzzles — a team as strong as the invincible Lakers that Kundera once led.

It was the 50s. The Soviet Union was planning manned spaceships, Eisenhower continued to aid Europe, Elvis produced his first record, Hemingway won the Nobel Prize for Literature as a representative of the "lost generation" of World War I, and Americans began to watch black-and-white television. And Auerbach, the stubborn middle-aged fellow, left his wife and two daughters in Washington, D.C., tirelessly planning his dynastic dreams. His fanaticism can surprise fans, referees and NBA officials alike. He got ahead of the curve, he was a real believer, he believed in himself, and he made the Celtics a part of his will.

He only cares about the wins, he cares about the numbers on the chart.

The Celtics began to metamorphose into a terrifying plant, silent, resilient, thriving, and as alive as their jerseys. The Boston Gardens became a giant monster forest, and Auerbach was the devil's leader there. He lashed out at referees and opponents, angrily swung his fists at the professional players who were a head taller than him, spat out dirty words, encouraged his players at any time, and danced to direct the Celtics' offensive wave.

and, to make a prophecy of victory.

In 1956, Auerbach said, "We're going to have one man going to change everything." ”

Before that, he already had players such as Roskutov, Shaman, Kusi, Ramsey, etc. In the summer of 1956, he selected Tom Heinsohn and KC Jones. And Reinhardt, who was instructed by him to look for a great center, gave an answer: a 206 cm tall guy with extremely imperfect offensive ability. And the Minneapolis Lakers are fighting for him.

Auerbach was resolute – as he did repeatedly in the decades that followed – to use his wrists to get the young centre-forward. He may not have known at the time how much this would affect the course of the times. And we'll write that name in the historical chronology years later, Bill Russell, Celtics No. 6.

"We're going to have someone to change that."

This is Cousy's memory. He said he saw a tall, swarthy, sturdy giant like a mountain. The man followed every cutter like a big spider, covering the ball as the opponent made a shot — he often blocked three shots in the first five minutes of the game. And the 2006 NBA block king was about that number per game — and the ball fell to Coussy. "Next up, there's the famous Boston Break."

And Auerbach said of Russell:

"He's special because he's so quick and he's smart; He won't be fooled twice in a row. He also has perfect long arms and he loves to defend. Completely opposite to those big men who love to score; Russell prefers his teammates to shoot. ”

Bill Russell averaged 22.5 rebounds per game in his career, and every block and rebound he made was the Celtics' first fast-break attack. Auerbach told him on the youngster's first day at the team that his scoring stats would not affect his salary when he signed his contract. From that day on, Russell became another Auerbach - a proud, ferocious machine that cared for nothing but victory.

Hubby Brown, a former Grizzlies head coach now in his seventies, said:

"Russell is a great backing and Auerbach can play what he loves--- fast break, defense. Their games are well organised and you know, how difficult it is to keep up good performances, so I feel like Auerbach has the ability to bring out the best in every player--- he knows how to drive his players and make them helpful to the team. And it seems that this ability has been passed down with batches of players.

This is a fateful meeting. Without each other, neither Auerbach nor Russell would have been as famous as they are today. In the winter of the 1956-57 season, Russell joined the team, and the Celtics became a terrifying monster - all the teams faced Russell who stood like a fortress, was covered by lightning-fast Sharman and Cousy, and was hunted down by Ramsey, Heinsohn, etc. Auerbach continued to yell on the sidelines, urging his players to strike each other mercilessly.

At one point, other teams in the NBA filed a joint complaint with the authorities, arguing that Russell's block was illegal interference. Of course, Auerbach argued with them every step of the way, and then won without any suspense. He knows the rules better than anyone else. He could take the rulebook, slap them in front of the league officials, and teach them a thunderous roar, training them like timid schoolboys.

In the summer of 1957, the Celtics reached the Finals against the Hawks. And Auerbach confronted Hannam the Vulture. Russell faced Petty, one of the strongest forwards in history on the 10-time NBA First Team in 11 years. In Game 7, the Celtics relied on Russell's 19 points and 32 rebounds and Heinsohn's 37 points and 23 rebounds to narrowly defeat the Hawks 125-123 and win their first championship in team history at Boston Garden. Auerbach's prophecy came true. The youngsters spilled champagne in the dressing room to celebrate their first ascent to the top.

And none of them expected — and I guess Auerbach didn't — that this was just the beginning of the Boston Garden curse.

In the 1957-58 season, Hannum's Eagles reclaimed the championship. But the vulture coach was then heartbroken to discover that the NBA had entered one of the craziest, most absurd, and most bizarre periods in history.

On the floor of that gray, dilapidated Boston garden, Russell and his Celts ran year after year. Someone left. In the 1961 Finals, Sharman faced the Lakers' No. 44, the future Godfather of the Lakers, and the dribbling silhouette of the NBA trademark Jerry West. He took his fourth championship ring, didn't give West, Robertson, and Greer a chance to beat him, and left the ring as the coolest shooter of his era. In 1963, in Game 6 of the Finals, the Celtics led the Lakers 112-109, Laruso, West, and Baylor were all over the court, and Cousy leaned down, using his enviable posture and legal dribbling movements prescribed by Naismith, constantly slapping the ball, shuttling on the hardwood floor, escaping the clutches of countless steals, allowing the Celtics to win their fifth consecutive championship. The only constant in the tide of these comings and goings was Auerbach's roar, his chatter at the referees, and the cigar that lit every time he won — it almost became a ritual for him.

The Celts are like machines that are out of control, like bison breaking into a china shop, like a thriving man-eating plant that can't be suppressed, like a train whose brakes fail. The Boston Garden has 5,000 empty seats all year round, and the 8,000 people present have watched everything that is unbelievable to the point of absurdity. Auerbach and his men rode the train all over the United States to chase victory, showing up on time for the finals every summer like a disciplined student, and then defeating their opponents with a tiresome routine. "At one point, we almost snuffed out that damn cigar." A certain head coach of the Lakers said. "I can't wait to shove that cigar into that guy's throat." Said another failed coach. "I'm willing to trade all my points for this last shot." Said Seawe, a Lakers player who missed the final winner in Game 7 of the 1962 Finals. You can list such quotations for three days and three nights. In the eyes of the rest of the NBA, Auerbach is the devil, the embodiment of evil. He replicates victories and championships like a Frankenstein. From the summer of 1959, for 8 consecutive years.

The Bostonians didn't even understand the miracle they were experiencing, with the Celtics lonely conquering everything. Auerbach devours his opponents unemotionally, unreasonably, almost greedily. Russell, Jones, and Heinsohn are like parts of a machine, each doing their job and ravaging their opponents year after year. They pass, collaborate, defend, shoot, control rebounds, shoot key shots, win championships, pour champagne. They don't want anything but victory. Each of them became Auerbach.

I know the following log will make you feel bored – but take a look. Because NBA players have spent 8 years - 8 years, or even the entire career of many players in such a monotonous process.

In 1959, the Celtics got revenge 4-0 by beating the Hawks to win the championship. In 1960, it was the Eagles again. Russell finished with 22 points and 35 rebounds in Game 7 of the Finals to win back-to-back championships. In 1961, the Celtics and Hawks met for the fifth consecutive time in the Finals, settling the battle 4-1. In 1962, the opponent changed. The Lakers stood across from the Celtics and led 3-2 in the Finals. But the Celtics continued to win monotonously, beating the Lakers 110-107 in overtime in Game 7 to win the championship. In 1963, after the Celtics defeated the Lakers 4-2 and won their fifth consecutive championship, Auerbach has become a public enemy of all America, attracting the hatred of all opponents and fans. However, in 1964, he continued to kill the suspense, finishing the Eagles 4-1 for his sixth consecutive crown. So much so that people began to talk about whether the Celtics would win the championship forever. In 1965, Celtic narrowly lost. In the Eastern Conference Finals against Philadelphia, Russell, the greatest center of all time, faced Chamberlain. In the last five seconds of Game 7, the Celtics led 110-109, and Chamberlain took advantage of Russell's mistake to intercept the ball. At this time, the young substitute white defender Havlicek made a lightning break to ensure the victory for Celtic, and this break became a classic break in history. Later in the Finals, Auerbach didn't let the accident happen, and solved the Lakers 4-1. In 1966, the Celtics began to get tired. Auerbach announced before the playoffs that he would step down as head coach at the end of the season to focus on team management, and that his successor, Russell, would become the first black head coach in a major American sports league. The high-spirited Celtics meet the Lakers again in the Finals. I don't know how many times it was - in Game 7, the Celtics narrowly won 95-93 to win their eighth consecutive championship.

Behind the dry numbers are a jaw-dropping eight championship trophies, as well as countless seventh-game battles. For the Celts, the word failure did not exist during those eight years. Auerbach's painful tearing of his hair or loud yelling drove the Celtics to win the championship like inertia. The Boston Garden is like it has been sealed by a spell, and there is no possibility of failure at all. Game 7, which seemed like a tightrope to the rest of the team, was as easy for the Celtics as a winning game. Auerbach wore his ninth championship ring in 10 years when he was not yet 50 years old.

What kind of team is the eight-in-a-row dynasty division? Flipping through the notebook, we can see many unbelievable figures. What was the 60s like? Elgin Baylor scored 61 points in one game in the 1962 Finals, and Chamberlain scored 100 points against New York on March 2, 1962, averaging 50.4 points per game that season. Oscar Robertson averaged 30.8 points, 12.5 rebounds and 11.4 assists per game in the same season. Elgin Baylor and Jerry West contribute nearly 60 points per season to the Lakers. And the Celtics don't even have anyone who averages 25 points per game. Auerbach did not allow selfishness in his ranks, no arbitrariness – except for himself.

To this day, people recall the championship members of the Celtics dynasty - Sam Jones who is good at playing the ball and shooting, Tom Heinsohn who can carry any forward in the league, Bob Cousy, the eight-time assist king, Bill Sharman as a sharpshooter, Bill Russell, the five-time league MVP, and Havlicek, the best sixth man of all time. These individuals have all stepped into the Hall of Fame and have been selected as one of the NBA's 50 greatest players on the occasion of the NBA's 50th anniversary. Some say they made Auerbach what it is. But in reality, these players are not very talented. Auerbach's vision is precise and unmistakable. His criteria for selecting players are not how many points the person can score or how many beautiful moves he can make. Auerbach needs people who want to win and are willing to sacrifice everything for it. Then, he sent the players he chose to hell. Even a superstar like Bill Russell would be relentlessly rebuked by this short old man whenever he needed to. It was in Auerbach's near-neurotic kneading and tempering that the Celtics understated and tedious to win championships year after year.

John Havlicek recalls his first trip to the Celtics' arena and he was speechless. And Bill Russell, one of the greatest centers in NBA history, walked over to talk to him on the shoulder and agreed to go with him to buy a car after practice. After that elusive layoff, Havlicek became known as Celtic's sixth man. This was praised by some as Havlicek's first and best sixth man. He was the first finisher of Auerbach's sixth-man tactics. But in other historical sources, it is told that Auerbach did not invent the sixth-man game. He's just tirelessly promoting black superstars like Russell, sixth man like Ramsey, and all the Celtics players are to reporters — the guys who only know how to promote white stars like Cousy and Sharman — to media reporters. Over time, no one on the Celtics felt left out in the cold and biased. They realize that they are part of the team and are deeply proud of their championship membership.

In the eyes of others, Auerbach is not so amiable and respectable. An interesting fact is that he was only elected NBA Coach of the Year once in 1965. In terms of his ability to fight psychological warfare with the NBA officials and use the media to fuel the flames, the current Mavericks owner Cuban is like a schoolboy compared to him. When teaching some new coaches, he bluntly admonished that they should stand as close to the technical table as possible, and try to make a loud voice of dissatisfaction with the referee to influence the referee to the greatest extent. Because of his victory, stubbornness, brutality, and rebelliousness, all who were defeated at his feet longed to defeat him. However, one year passed, two years passed, three years passed, and eight years passed. Boston Garden's championship flags are hung one after the other. Whenever someone comes to the garden to compete, they look up and see the symbols of the champions - the trophies of supremacy, the world-conquering trophies, and the glaring scars of the defeat of all the great men of that era.

In the summer of 1966, Auerbach kept his promise at the ceremony of eight consecutive championships, ceding the position of head coach to Bill Russell, and he himself became the general manager of the Celtics and began to retreat into the background. From the huge shadow that covered the NBA in the mid-50s, it turned around and quietly left. It was like an old emperor who handed over his scepter, and the kneeling people, hearing only the sound of his footsteps, resounded lonely through the corridor, leading to the dark curtain.

In the year of Auerbach's departure, his successor, Russell, was not able to continue the glory of the dynasty. Former Hawks head coach Hanam, who had lost to Auerbach several times, went to Philadelphia to coach Chamberlain, Cunningham and Greer. Chamberlain made a huge sacrifice, and he averaged just 24 points per game in 1966-67, after averaging 50 points per game in 1966-67. But in the year of Chamberlain's transition to Russell, the 76ers put on an all-time record of 68 wins, and finally defeated the unbeatable monster of the decade in the Eastern Conference Finals, defeating the Warriors in the Finals to win the championship. In the 7th year of the 60s, the championship was finally not the Celtics.

"They're playing the kind of basketball we've been playing for the last decade." So says Celtics' KC Jones.

Auerbach's departure and the Celtics' defeat seem to have something inevitable, and the NBA teams that have been ruled by Auerbach's iron fist for a decade feel the gloom lifting, and the Celtics tree that has enveloped them seems to be scattered. Beginning in the fall of 1967, in stadiums across the United States, fans chanted to Russell and the occasional traveling Auerbach, the man they hated to eat his flesh and skin, "Boston is over, Boston is over, the dynasty is gone." ”

However, in the spring of 1968, the whole United States found themselves rejoicing. The emperor's departure is only an illusion. The old man hid in the darkness, and continued to control the monster team he had built, approaching the throne with an expressionless and unstoppable face.

The mood of the entire NBA in 1967 was like seeing a sunny day after a long flood. However, in 1968, they found that black clouds were filling the sky again. The Celtics used their 10th championship in 12 years to tell people that the 76ers' miracle was nothing more than an accident. Then, in 1969, the aging Celtics, the hated Celtics, the Celtics covered in the shadow of Auerbach, solved in one of the most typical Auerbach ways — the Finals, against the Lakers, Game 7, 108-106. 11th championship in 13 years, ending the 60s.

In 1969, Russell retired after winning the championship, while Auerbach continued to pour his cigar in the position of general manager, and used his keen eye to spot players and weave teams. In the chaotic '70s, when no team defended their title, the Celtics relied on Auerbach's promotion of Covens and long-term development of Havlicek to win two more championships.

Of course, this alone is not Auerbach's handiwork.

In 1979, the 63-year-old man found the prince he needed to carry on the glory of his original creation. He, Auerbach, the first anti-racist in NBA history to start with an all-black man, was the sixth pick in the 1979 draft to pick a white man who played at Indiana University for four years and couldn't run fast or jump high. According to his own account, he has only seen one ball from this guy.

The white man, Larry Bird, was considered the greatest forward in NBA history when he retired, and Auerbach's eye was a no-brainer for the 1979 team with two, three, four, and five draft picks — with the exception of the Lakers' Magic, who was drafted by the Lakers that year — and who was on the first team that season in his first year on the team. The recurrence of this happened 17 years later, when Spurs' Tim Duncan staged a similar example. Like Duncan, Bird led the team to championship wins in his second year in the industry.

On June 9, 1980, Auerbach made another terrible deal — how many times he had done similar cunning in more than three decades — that earned him a reputation as a "robber." He traded the No. 1 and No. 13 picks from the Golden State Warriors for the No. 3 pick and Robert Parish and then the University of Minnesota forward Kevin McHale with the No. 3 pick. From this moment on, the troika of the Celtic 80s came together. Auerbach decided the glory of the Celtics for the next decade and the fate of the Lakers, 76ers, and Pistons in a single trade and a draft.

In the Waterloo volume of Hugo's Les Misérables, Napoleon's cavalry rushes to the English on St. John's Hill. At that time, both Wellington and Napoleon were close to running out of oil, and the advantage was over the French. However, a deep ditch appeared in front of the cavalry, and the French cavalry, caught off guard, fell en masse. This thwarted Napoleon's attack. And it was not long after this that Prussian reinforcements appeared on the horizon.

Many times, it is not the moment when the limelight turns that turns the tide of war and the situation. A steed continued to run after being wounded, and finally collapsed unable to support it. His fate was predestined when he was wounded. The occurrence of a certain accident and a certain bad luck will become an unknown turning point in fate.

In 1986, Auerbach tried to build on the Bird-led Celtics. He cleverly got a draft pick and got — we have to believe in his vision — a talented player, Bias. Just hours after he was selected, the genius, the child who was fantasized about being a future superstar, the man who was supposed to bring glory to the future Celtic dynasty, died of cocaine poisoning.

Nothing is more damaging to an old man than this kind of thing.

Bird and McHale retired in the early '90s, and Parish moved from team to team, ending his career with the new dynasty Bulls in 1997 at the age of 43. And Auerbach, who is over 70 years old, finally began to look like an old man after the death of Bias. In 1993, another bad luck struck, when Celtics captain Lewis died suddenly in practice.

Then came the move of Boston Garden and the fall of the Celtics, who by then had already left.

"I don't have the motivation to work anymore." He said.

In 1997, at the age of 80, Auerbach participated in the NBA's 50th anniversary, and eight of the 50 greatest players of the NBA's 50th anniversary were from the Celtics — and rightfully so, his disciples. But that's far from all.

In the 1961 Finals, Sharman faced West of the Lakers. Ten years later, Sharman became the head coach of the Lakers, and led the Celtics' men such as Chamberlain and West to a 69-win record, giving the Lakers their first championship since moving to Los Angeles — ironically, it was a man who repeatedly defeated them to win the championship.

In Game 7 of the 1969 Finals, the Celtics relied on a mid-range shot from guard Don Nelson to beat the Lakers and win their 11th championship in 13 years. And Don Nelson is now one of the greatest coaches in NBA history. Like Auerbach, the old man was aggressive, high-spirited, competitive, and never stopped.

Westerfaal, the head coach of the Suns who played the Bulls in the Finals in 1993, was from the Celtics; In 1995, as the general manager of the Wolves, the fifth general manager selected by Garnet, the general manager of the Wolves to take off, McHale, was the Celtics' decorated forward in the 80s; In the 1996-97 season, Dave Covins, who led the Hornets to the best performance in franchise history and almost became coach of the year, was the pillar of the '70s Celtics handpicked by Auerbach to replace Russell; Four-time championship coach KC Jones is a first-generation disciple of Auerbach; Larry Bird won the Coach of the Year title when he first became head coach in the 1997-98 season......

The shadow of Auerbach is all over the Union. More than a decade after he retired from the NBA, you can still feel his presence. From coast to coast, his disciples followed his example, emulating certain Celtic spirits. Something stubborn that is not changed by the years is circulating silently.

Until he left that throne, the glory and fame he brought with him still hung in the sky for Boston fans. Boston's home stadium is now much more buzzing than Auerbach's victory, but the fans will never be satisfied – and naturally, because the miracle of Auerbach's handicraft is unprecedented, and it is entirely possible that it will not be extinguished. They shouted at the current Celtics, at Pierce and Gomez, trying to correct the way they played. They only have one aesthetic way, and that is the Auerbachian style. It is rooted in the history of the Celts, the haunting spirit.

The word Celtic originated from those peoples who lived in ancient times, and today, the proud, stubborn, and green Irish and Scotsmen still speak Celtic. As the name suggests. Auerbach has been throughout the history of the Celtics, instilling haughtiness, stubbornness, stubbornness, and a hardwood-like strength into the bone marrow of every Celtic. From the 50s, he understood basketball before everyone:

Pick players who want to win; Configure your team like a puzzle and a game of chess; Make the team – not only on the field, but also in life – an unbreakable whole; Defence, speed, skill and intelligence come first; Unselfish.

So, for 40 years, the Celtics danced a rhythmic, rustic, gritty and noble group dance in the green Boston Garden.

Changhong's beautiful projection arc through the sky. Dense and hard defensive system in the boreal forest. Philosopher-like contemplation. Prophetic judgment. A fast and tight team formation that is as integrated as a riding formation. Equation inferences the same rigorously executed tactical coordination. and the twelve people in the locker room with different personalities, but they fit together.

As the years go by, new championship flags are constantly hung on the old and elegant dome of Boston Garden, which means that when you look up, you can see the history of the Celts that shines brighter than the stars. Auerbach is in the dugout, in the box, at the technical bench, in the dressing room – he was often ejected from the pitch forty years ago – but you can feel his presence wherever he is.

Over the years, basketball tactics have changed constantly. Behind the scenes, Auerbach watched the basketball and its controllers change. It has been proven that his tactics, his ideas, are not as flashy and visually sound as David Stern advertises. Throughout his life, his tactics and his demands were not very ornamental – however, he could just keep winning as a footnote to his career.

It's like a wooden cone that keeps puncturing pieces of colored paper.

We all call him Cardinal now – that's because his name is RED. In the history of Europe, there have been many cardinals. But the most familiar to Chinese is always the 17th-century French cardinal Armand Jean-Duplecy de Richelieu. The French prime minister who appeared in Alexandre Dumas's "The Three Musketeers", who has controlled France for nearly 30 years, is undoubtedly a complex character that people can't love and hate. Auerbach - this dictator with a monopoly on power and an iron fist, this little old man who is so furious that everyone in the alliance is afraid of snakes and scorpions. Most of the time, he's the villain.

There are many stories that hint at the horror of this man. Russell, the pillar of the Celtics, is an extremely competitive and easily nervous big man, and he is rumored to vomit from stomach cramps before every game. And on one occasion when he stood calmly in the locker room, showing that he had no intention of vomiting, the cardinal yelled at him: "Go and vomit! ”

Celtics player Howell told another story. When he missed a series of shots in a game, the Bishop called a timeout and told him to forget about the missed balls and stop thinking about them. "But remember," said the Bishop, solemnly, "that if you continue to throw, you will have to go back to the bench and sit next to me." Then, Howell started hitting back-to-back shots.

He also once did tricks on the floor of Boston Garden, allowing opposing players to make mistakes on dribbles; He also once adjusted the air conditioning in the locker room, making the Lakers collectively miserable; He intimidated, insulted, and protested against the referee, and personally went into battle when the situation was tense, no matter whether he was in the prime of his forties or over the age of six, whether he was a rookie coach or a successful man, no matter how terrible a giant he was when he was only 175 cm tall and the opposite side was, he was always not afraid to quarrel, hit, scold, and pull with the other party. Even in a fight, he never throws in the towel. Van Gundy's persuasion? There is no such thing in his dictionary.

The shrewdness of the Jews, the impulse of Russian immigrants, his enlistment in 1943 and his discharge from the army in 1946 — God knows what he would have done if he had gone to the battlefields of World War II — all fused the cardinal's soul. An unscrupulous utilitarian, an elderly *river crab*, a Cao Cao, a Liu Bang, a weird guy you can't describe.

Cardinals are not afraid, even loved, to be hated and feared by people. He leisurely lit his famous victory cigar in the arena, even as a form of psychological warfare. He was constantly thinking about fighting and winning, either way. He doesn't teach what kindness is and what grace is, he just stands in the middle of the darkness and stretches out his hand so that the darkness continues to stretch around. He has a strong, evil power, all of which comes from his fighting spirit, his competitive spirit, his calculating and cunning.

Now we might be able to find a template. In the NBA's long 60-year history, he kept the Celtics at home for 40 years, winning 16 championships and numerous titles. He carried forward a simple, tenacious, noble and stubborn spirit, and he himself was a hero all his life. He's like the godfather played by Marlon Brando. The one who listens to requests in the dark, and uses his abilities to influence the big picture. He wasn't in charge of giving gorgeous samples until he grew old — he wasn't as glamorous as Maravich, Dr. J, or Jordan. On the contrary, he is the stifler of elegant style, and he devours everything ruthlessly. What the cardinal did all his life was to strangle everything that was gentle, splendid, gorgeous, and unrestrained, and then put his tenacious, simple, and precise style on top of all honors. In the history of cardinals, the world was dark. And we have to fight against it all the time.

Until the spring of 2006, when big-screen televisions, worldwide broadcasts, popcorn, mascots and cheerleaders flooded the NBA arena, the Celtics maintained an old and solemn tradition — they didn't have cheerleaders with lap dancing girls. Because, the cardinal said, "want cheerleading girls? Then step over my corpse first! ”

THE '90S WHEN THE CELTICS WERE DYING, THE SNEAKERS OF THE BULLS, NIKE AND ADIDAS, COCA-COLA, THE SHADOW OF JORDAN FLYING, THE GORGEOUS CLIPS OF THE NBA, THE HIP-HOP POSTERS, THE BLACK RAP: ALL OF THEM WERE POPULAR ALL OVER THE WORLD. And the NBA is no longer the gloom and gloom of the past, and the league is becoming more and more like a big entertainment organization. The arena is like a theater of dreams, you buy a ticket, you enter, and then you have as much entertainment as you can.

At that time, the cardinal watched the immature children play fancy moves and stage flying dunks under the 16 championship flags.

This may be the last stubbornness of this old man. Celtic, Jewish, Russian stubbornness, devotion to the game of basketball, a consistent love of simplicity, precision and simplicity. The cardinal, who once braved the world's condemnation to introduce an all-black starter, rejected the cheerleading girl against the trend of the times.

Then, in October 2006, he passed away. "On the surface, he is as rough as a cat," Cousy said. "This old guy who has roared like a tiger all his life is buried in Washington, where he began his coaching career. He sank into the darkness when he was 89 years old. Then, on November 2, 2006, the Celtics' home court had their first beautiful cheerleaders. The Celtics trailed the game and lost to the Hornets.

When you look at the Celtic jersey, you have a vague hallucination. Outside of the green jersey, there seemed to be a soul floating. 16 champion flags, and a world he's tired of conquering. You can't believe that he is gone, you can't believe that a certain page of history has quietly turned over, and this old man's resume has come to an end.

The most feared godfather in NBA history, the most controversial public enemy, is now safe and sound. He snuffed out his cigar and strode the dark floor of Boston Garden. The sounds of the battles of the past are ringing at certain moments, and the 16 championship flags are a microcosm of the bygone years, and they are blowing in the wind. Beyond the garden is another world of singing and dancing, a world that he has conquered, who hates and loves him. And he finally stopped fighting, his opponents, his heart disease, his decrepit body, and his protracted, 89-year battle. He returned to the darkness that belonged to him, and in people's memory, he became the emperor of the darkness forever.