What is the Knicks' biggest weapon?
Everyone in the league knows the answer. The three-point shot.
That has followed Mike D'Antoni everywhere. It defined his Phoenix Suns teams at their peak, and now it defines this version of the New York Knicks.
Back in the 2010–11 title run, the Knicks were already pushing the pace, taking over 30 threes a game in the playoffs. This season, that number has climbed to 37. At this point, you do not even need to follow basketball closely to understand the risk. Give this team space, and the game can get away from you in minutes.
Game 2 of the 2012–13 Eastern Conference Finals made that point clear.
Nineteen made threes. Thirty-five attempts. Clean looks, quick releases, no hesitation.
For LeBron James and Dwyane Wade, it was not frustration by the end. It was something closer to helplessness.
Because when a team built like this catches rhythm, there is not much you can adjust on the fly. You either ride the wave out or get buried by it.
103 to 129.
The Knicks go up 2–0.
. . .
When Lin Yi checked out early in the fourth, he clenched his fists for a moment, like he was confirming something to himself.
This one mattered.
Even in the worst case, even if Miami protected home court, the Knicks would still control the series. That was the difference between pressure and leverage.
And the way they got this win made it even more convincing.
For two quarters, the Miami Heat held their ground. They matched the pace, answered shots, stayed within reach.
Then the third quarter happened.
Lin Yi. Klay. Paul. Green.
One goes in, then another. Same spots. They stretched the Heat so much that their defense started reacting half a second too late, then a full second too late.
Miami tried to chase shooters off the line, but that only made things worse. Rotations stretched, closeouts got desperate, and suddenly the floor opened up.
That was the trap.
New York finished at the rim at 80 percent.
Nineteen threes will get the headlines, but the real damage was inside. The Knicks scored 26 more points in the paint, and that gap alone decided the game.
It looked like a shooting clinic. It was actually control.
Game 1 showed how deep this Knicks roster runs. Game 2 showed how dangerous it becomes when everything clicks.
. . .
Postgame told its own story.
LeBron skipped the media. Wade kept his answers short, no energy for spin. The rest of the locker room followed their lead and stayed quiet.
At the podium, Erik Spoelstra stepped in front of it.
"We're not out of this," he said, calm, measured. "We've come this far. We'll regroup when we get back to Miami."
To most reporters, it sounded composed.
Behind that, it was a different conversation.
Because he knew what this meant.
Lose one of the next two at home, and it becomes 1–3. Against this Knicks team, that is close to a dead end. They had not even dropped back-to-back games all year.
Winning three straight against the Knicks would take something extreme.
You start thinking about outlier performances. A coaching adjustment that changes everything. Or LeBron James going nuclear for two straight games just to keep the series alive.
That is where Miami is now.
Not finished but out of margin.
. . .
Game 2 had gone a little too clean.
Even the New York Knicks coaching staff did not expect it to look that easy, especially against a team like the Miami Heat that had given them some problems during the regular season.
One of the assistants summed it up in the locker room.
"Same system, same shots," he said, shaking his head. "Difference is, we've got the guys to make it work."
Another coach pointed out. "Give me five Trevor Arizas and tell them to take thirty-five threes a night. See how that goes."
"No, I want five Lin Yis."
A pause.
"Madison Square Garden might not survive that."
That got laughs.
. . .
During Lin Yi and Kobe's dinner, Lin leaned forward again.
"Kob, just stay a few more days. Come to Miami. Watch us finish this, then I'll personally invite you to the parade."
Kobe let out a quiet laugh but didn't answer. He finished eating, stood up, and picked up his jacket.
"You're something else," he muttered.
"Is that a yes?" Lin Yi called after him.
No response. Kobe walked out without looking back.
Outside, he flagged down a cab and got in.
On the ride home, one thought kept circling in his head.
He must have been out of his mind to think Lin Yi was a normal person.
For a second, he even found himself missing Shaquille O'Neal.
At least with Shaq, everything was straightforward.
. . .
Game 3 was set for the 26th in Miami.
Before boarding, Lin Yi gathered the team.
"One win," he said. "That's the focus for this trip."
A few players nodded.
"Two?" Donatas called from the back.
Lin Yi shrugged. "If we get both, then there's nothing left to talk about."
A voice cut in, half serious.
"Let's not go there yet."
The room settled.
Everyone understood what they were up against. A team built around LeBron James and Dwyane Wade didn't need much to flip a series. Give them a small opening, and the momentum changes fast.
Candler spoke up quietly.
"No champagne talk."
Lin Yi nodded once. That had been the message since the regular season ended.
Handle the next game. Nothing else.
While the Knicks were in the air, the Western Conference had its own storm building.
. . .
On the 24th in San Antonio, Kevin Durant played like a man with something to prove.
Forty-five points. Every look felt clean.
"Unstoppable," one commentator said under his breath.
Even critics had to admit it. As a scorer, he sat near the very top of the league.
The postgame comments were commonly:
"Second to nobody... except Lin Yi."
Still, for all that, the Oklahoma City Thunder didn't close it out.
They were up eleven in the fourth.
Then the game shifted.
On the Spurs bench, Tim Duncan glanced at Manu Ginóbili and reached over, tapping the top of his head.
Ginóbili brushed his hand away. "I've got it. Relax."
Duncan just smiled.
Everyone watching understood. In good rhythm, you go to Tony Parker. In controlled situations, you trust Duncan. When things start slipping, you turn Manu loose.
Ginóbili checked in and changed everything.
Drive. Kick. Step back. Another drive.
Seven straight points, then two quick assists.
The lead shrank. The arena came alive.
Final possession. Russell Westbrook tried to force the issue.
Ginóbili read it clean.
Steal.
Game.
The crowd erupted. Thunder fans could only watch.
"Why isn't Durant taking that shot?" someone shouted from the stands.
On the sideline, eyes drifted toward the bench.
Blame could go to the coach, but inside that locker room, they knew it was not that simple.
Durant could score on anyone. That was never the question.
It was the big moments. The decision to take over without hesitation.
Right now, that instinct came and went.
Against a team like San Antonio, that gap gets exposed.
. . .
In Miami, Lin Yi watched the final sequence on his phone after landing.
He replayed the last possession once, then locked the screen.
"If they don't adjust," he said quietly, "we're probably seeing San Antonio in the Finals."
Lin Yi let out a breath, a faint smile forming.
"Conference Finals isn't even over," he said. "And I'm already looking ahead."
He shook his head.
"Getting ahead of myself."
A brief pause.
Ding.
Lin Yi glanced at his phone, expecting something routine.
Instead, a photo from Elizabeth.
He opened it, paused for a second, then leaned back slightly.
"…red lingerie.... crotchless panties too," he muttered under his breath. "Damn, Liz."
He stared at the screen a moment longer, then let out a quiet breath, half amused.
"Guess that's extra motivation to finish the series."
. . .
Please do leave a review and powerstones, which helps with the book's exposure.
Feel like joining a Patreon for free and subscribing to 30+ advanced chapters?
Visit the link:
[email protected]/GRANDMAESTA_30
Change @ to a