T/N:Sorry for the wait. I posted this chapter on my football (soccer) story.
After torching the Heat at home on the 16th, the Knicks didn't slow down. On the 18th and 19th, they steamrolled the Celtics and the Nets, home and away, leaving no room for suspense. But after that dominant stretch, D'Antoni finally decided it was time to put the brakes on his starters.
The turning point came in the Nets game on the 19th. During a routine drive, Chris Paul collided with Deron Williams mid-air. He came down awkwardly, grabbing his knee with a grimace that made everyone's stomach drop.
Paul insisted he was fine—"Just a stinger," he said—but D'Antoni wasn't having it. He pulled him for the entire second half and sent him straight to the locker room for evaluation.
Lin Yi watched the whole thing unfold and couldn't help thinking Paul's luck was bizarrely cursed. Paul had faced harder collisions than this without blinking. Everyone knew his playoff heartbreaks were tied to those strange, untimely injuries that always seemed to find him.
Even the one time he finally made the Western Conference Finals, injuries snatched away the spotlight before he could even enjoy it.
Fortunately, the Knicks' medical staff cleared him not long after. But Lin Yi and D'Antoni exchanged a look—no words needed. It was a lockout-shortened season. The Knicks were already miles ahead of the league. Even if they dropped every remaining game, they'd still finish on top. No point playing hero.
So despite Paul's loud protests, D'Antoni shut him down for the final four games of the season.
The old coach originally wanted to pull Lin Yi, too, but Lin flat-out refused.
Rest?
Impossible.
Lin Yi didn't believe in rest. Paul sitting out meant Lin could finally run the show solo—and the idea of skipping that opportunity? Absolutely not.
He did, however, agree to a minutes restriction. Stamina didn't magically regenerate overnight. And Lin Yi was pretty sure that if he argued too much, D'Antoni might actually show up with a hammer and force him onto the injury report.
On the 21st, with a heavily rotated roster, the Knicks visited Cleveland—and walked into a classic Melo performance. It was one of those nights where everything he threw up found the net.
Anthony went 21-of-34, including 5-of-7 from deep and a perfect 10-of-10 at the line, finishing with a career-high 57 points.
Over in OKC, Durant probably wanted to file a complaint. He had finally chipped away at Melo's scoring average after Melo's stretch of cold nights, and then—boom—just like that, the gap widened again right before season's end.
Durant felt targeted. He was convinced the Knicks were doing this on purpose.
The league's best team getting caught by a team among the dead-last in the East?
Ridiculous!
But even as the Knicks' bench made a late push, D'Antoni never put Lin Yi back in. Lin had finally gotten a chance to lead the team by himself, but the moment he sat, he was stuck there, helpless. He played only 24 minutes, picking up a casual 13 points, 10 rebounds, and 10 assists before being turned into a decorative bench ornament.
Meanwhile, Durant imagined Lin Yi plotting against him.
Jealousy, Durant thought. Pure jealousy.
Lin Yi didn't want him to win a second scoring title.
But the truth was far more mundane. After the game, Melo and Lin Yi were laughing on the court—but not about basketball. Melo was actually trying to book next season's "New York away-game hospitality package." Ever since Denver shipped him to Cleveland like a spare part, Melo had learned to value comfort.
Even so, Melo was eyeing the scoring crown. The entire Cavaliers organization seemed committed to helping him, and Cleveland fans treated him like a hero.
Funny how things changed. Last season, he was crucified in Denver for "stat-padding." This year, he could miss 25 shots in a game, and the media would still praise him for "carrying the team."
If Melo regretted anything, it was not joining the Knicks instead.
...
On the 22nd, back in New York, Lin Yi glanced at Tyson Chandler—who had been working nearly to exhaustion these past weeks—leaning on his knees.
"Finally done…" Lin exhaled.
It had been a draining stretch, more mentally than physically. Only Lin Yi knew how hard he'd been grinding.
But the grind paid off. His Ankle Breaker badge, after countless hours of pushing his limits, finally leveled up from Amethyst to Diamond.
As he stared at the gleaming, crystalline badge in his mind's eye, he couldn't help feeling a warm, almost divine sensation wash over him—like an invisible light blessing his ankles, his handles, and perhaps his sanity.
Lin Yi sometimes felt like his entire growth story in the NBA could be summarized as a long chapter titled "How to Torture Yourself."
During those one-on-one sessions with Tony Allen—while his shooting was sealed away—he often wondered if he had offended fate somehow.
It was just training, sure, but Lin Yi still found it grueling.
Then came the one-on-one work with Tyson Chandler. Lin had to constantly mirror Tyson's movements, study the angles, stay locked in. But compared to last season, his success rate against Chandler was nearly 55-45 now in his favor.
And honestly?
That was crazy.
This season, according to ESPN's advanced metrics, Tyson was holding opponents to under 40% at the rim. The man was at his defensive peak. So if Lin Yi was keeping up with him, that diamond-level Ankle Breaker badge was definitely doing its job.
"Lin… am I tripping, or did your handle get faster?" Tyson asked the next day, before their road game against the Hawks. Lin was on the sideline warming up, dribbling two basketballs like it was nothing.
Lin Yi flashed a grin. "Tyson, I've always been this fast."
Tyson nodded thoughtfully. "True, you have always been fast."
Lin paused.
…Had he just walked himself straight into that?
Where was the dramatic transformation he imagined?
Where was the shock on everyone's faces?
Where were the wide-eyed reactions, the "Yo, what got into Lin today?" whispers?
None of that happened.
So after swaggering around for nearly a full season, Lin Yi met his natural enemy—Tyson Chandler. There was no beating this guy. Not physically, not verbally.
Then again… what ordinary person walks around with the name "Tyson"?
There were punching bags at the Knicks' training facility, and one time, after seeing Tyson throw a real combo, Lin Yi quietly promised himself he would never provoke that man unnecessarily. Although the April Fool's prank was warranted. He had to do it.
Lin Yi sighed. Being the team's leader wasn't always glorious. Last year, he had to worry about Shaq. This year also brought about its quirky problems
Sometimes, Lin Yi wondered if leadership came with hazard pay.
...
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