January 28th, Madison Square Garden.
The atmosphere inside the ho locker room before tipoff was light, almost playful, despite the weight of another packed Garden crowd waiting upstairs.
"Lin, pick one you like!" Lance Stephenson grinned, fanning out a set of tarot cards as if he were a street magician hustling in Tis Square.
Lin Yi paused, blinking at him. "Huh? What are you on about now?"
Before Lin could protest further, Louis Williams leaned over from his locker with amusent. "Lin, you gotta forgive him. Lance has been spending too much ti with his new girlfriend—she's apparently a witch."
"She's not a witch!" Stephenson imdiately shot back, rolling his eyes. "They're tarot cards. Totally different."
Lin gave him a deadpan look. "And why exactly should I pick one?"
"Because," Lance said, tugging on Lin's warm-up jersey with exaggerated urgency, "I want to do a reading for you! Call it a little… prega motivation."
Lin sighed dramatically. "You realize I'm a fearless materialist, right? I don't dabble in ghosts, spirits, or whatever you're trying to pull here."
Stephenson opened his mouth, then shut it, muttering to himself as Lin eventually humored him and picked a card at random. He held it up, clueless about what the symbol even ant.
Lance stared at it like he'd just discovered buried treasure. His eyes widened. "Oh wow… this ans sothing big is going to happen tonight!"
Across the room, Gallinari and Lou Williams burst into laughter.
"Sothing big?" Lou chuckled, shaking his head. "Co on, Lance. At this point, no matter what Lin does—30 points, 40 points, ten blocks—it's not exactly shocking anymore."
Stephenson flushed, waving his hands as if to defend his newfound hobby. Truth be told, he'd only been experinting with tarot for two days, courtesy of his girlfriend, but his teammates weren't about to let him off the hook that easily.
…
When the lineups were announced on the Garden's massive screen, the buzz in the building rose another notch.
76ers starters:
Spencer Hawes
Elton Brand
Andre Iguodala
Jodie eks
Jrue Holiday.
Knicks starters:
Tyson Chandler
Lin Yi
Danilo Gallinari
Danny Green
Chauncey Billups.
Holiday had just been promoted to the starting five for Philadelphia, while Evan Turner, the much-hyped No. 2 pick, was struggling through a rookie season that had yet to click. The Sixers' front office was patient, though—everyone knew they weren't aiming for diocrity. They wanted a star, a true franchise cornerstone, and wouldn't stop tearing down and rebuilding until they found one.
On the Knicks' bench, Shaquille O'Neal—still very much the elder statesman of the group—watched the younger players horsing around and raised a brow.
"What's all this noise about?" he rumbled.
Lou Williams grinned. "Shaq, you missed it. Lance says sothing big is about to happen tonight. He's been dabbling in tarot cards with his witch girlfriend."
O'Neal blinked. "Tarot cards?" He turned slowly toward Stephenson; his face caught sowhere between disbelief and amusent. "Young fella, the NBA doesn't run on superstition. It runs on hard work and buckets."
Stephenson groaned, burying his face in a towel. "Why does everyone keep calling her a witch…"
...
The ball finally went up. Lin Yi and Spencer Hawes t at center court for the jump, and it didn't take long for the Knicks' ga plan to reveal itself. Hawes, a decent shooter for a big man, could stretch the floor, but on defense, he was a glaring weakness.
The Knicks wasted no ti hunting him.
On the first possession, Billups swung the ball to Lin Yi on the wing. Chandler lumbered up to set a screen, colliding with Elton Brand in a thud that echoed through the paint. Forced to switch, Hawes shuffled forward, suddenly staring down Lin Yi.
Lin smirked. Exactly what I wanted.
One explosive first step, then another—three long strides and Lin was airborne. He hamred ho a one-handed dunk before Hawes even turned his head.
The crowd roared as Brand winced, a flash of last season's humiliation surfacing in his mind. This kid is terrifying. Too much power, too much length.
0–2. Knicks strike first.
On the other end, Iguodala—Philly's heart and engine—tried to answer. He took the ball off a pick-and-roll with Hawes, hoping to carve open the Knicks' defense. But New York's rotation was sharp. Danny Green cut off the pass, Chandler slid over, and Lin closed the lane. Forced outside the paint, Iguodala had no choice but to fling up a contested runner.
Bang! The ball clanged off the rim.
And just like that, the tone was set.
..
Lin Yi, was retreating on defense, tid his steps perfectly and swatted away the Sixers' first real attempt at the rim. The block dropped straight into Chandler's hands, and the two exchanged a quick nod on the way back up the floor. The chemistry between them was sharper every ga—Chandler's positioning funneled drives right into Lin Yi's reach, giving him clean, almost effortless chances to erase shots.
That was the backbone of New York's iron-blooded defense: outside defenders rotated quickly, and if an attacker sohow slipped inside, a wall of help defense collapsed like a trap. Iguodala, aggressive as always, was left with only two options—kick the ball out midair, or test his luck against Lin Yi.
If he chose the latter, well… nine tis out of ten, it ended with Lin Yi pinning the shot into the glass.
On the Knicks' bench, Stephenson could hardly sit still. He jabbed his finger toward the floor, whisper-shouting at anyone who would listen. "See that? I told you! I said sothing big was coming for Lin tonight!"
Most of his teammates barely looked up. Lou Williams rolled his eyes with a grin that said this again? "Relax, man. That's just Lin being Lin. Nothing unusual about him blocking shots like that. Sit down before you pop a vein."
Stephenson huffed, folding his arms, but stayed glued to Lin Yi's every move.
.
By the end of the first quarter, Lin Yi hadn't even pushed the pace. The Sixers had smartly thrown double-teams at him whenever he caught the ball, so instead of forcing things, he shifted into facilitator mode. His passes carved up Philadelphia's defense, and his presence alone freed up space for Gallinari and Green to fire away.
On the sidelines, Sixers head coach Doug Collins wore the tight smile of a man juggling mismatches. He had backed Spencer Hawes as a starter this year, hoping the big man could stretch the floor. But Hawes was no Lin Yi, and the gap was glaring. The one silver lining was Jrue Holiday. Strong, poised, and never rattled by Billups' veteran tricks, Holiday was showing why he went on to win two rings.
Philadelphia's offense was balanced if nothing else. Brand, though past his pri, still knocked down clean mid-range looks. eks fired without hesitation whenever he had daylight. They weren't spectacular, but steady enough to cling to playoff positioning in a soft Eastern Conference.
The scoreboard after one read Knicks 29, Sixers 22. Lin Yi's line? 5 points, 4 rebounds, 4 assists, 2 blocks, and a steal. For him, it was routine, another night at the office.
Stephenson, though, was staring at the stat sheet with narrowed eyes. "That's it? Five points? No, no, no… this isn't right. The cards said sothing big!" he muttered under his breath.
..
Second quarter.
Shaq, conserving his energy, sat back as Whiteside took his rotation minutes. Stephenson, anwhile, checked in but was visibly distracted, glancing toward the scorer's table every other possession. After just three shaky minutes, D'Antoni yanked him with a sharp clap of the hands.
The Knicks had no shortage of forwards, and Lance's head clearly wasn't in the ga. D'Antoni didn't mince words in the huddle. "Stay focused. Don't care who's on the other side—treat every ga like it matters. Philly might be a first-round opponent. We can't take them lightly."
Lin Yi walked over during the tiout and raised an eyebrow at Stephenson. "Lance… don't tell you're still thinking about those tarot cards."
Stephenson's eyes darted around guiltily. "What? No, of course not. I an… well, maybe a little. But listen, Lin—you can't make look bad here. I said sothing big would happen tonight. You've got to deliver!"
He leaned in so close that Lin Yi actually leaned back, laughing. "Careful, you're about to breathe in my ear."
With a chuckle, Lin replied, "Maybe your prediction's right. But here's the real question—did you ever stop to think about what exactly this 'big event' is?"
That stopped Stephenson cold. He blinked, mouth half-open, realizing he hadn't thought that far ahead. "…Huh."
For the first ti all night, Lance went quiet, sulking back into his seat.
But as the Sixers began adjusting their offensive sets midway through the second quarter—attacking with quicker ball movent and more off-ball screens—no one, not even Stephenson himself, could have guessed just how right his hunch might turn out to be.
Sothing big was brewing in the Garden.
...
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