As the pride of his hotown, Durant ca into this matchup with a weight on his shoulders. Oklahoma saw him as the hope of the Thunder team, and this ti, he wasn't about to accept another bitter defeat.
The last ti he faced Tony Allen, Durant had been rattled. Outplayed, outworked, suffocated, and left for dead. Since then, he and his coach had doubled down on shooting drills, grinding through late nights and early mornings. Durant didn't want history to repeat itself.
The Thunder didn't want to be known longer the young and promising tag-alongs of the West. They had arrived as a genuine force, a contender. Their rise had been teoric, and their ceiling still looked frighteningly high. The latest_epɪ_sodes are on_the novelFɪre
Westbrook, fresh off the All-Star break, was brimming with confidence. His jumper—once shaky—was now dropping with more consistency. Combined with his trademark explosiveness, it made him even more dangerous.
For the Knicks, though, this was more than just another ga. They marched into Oklahoma carrying a 20-ga winning streak, a run that had electrified New York and unsettled the rest of the league. Pundits and fans alike agreed: if there was a team that could put an end to it, the Thunder were near the top of the list.
Even Lin Yi admitted as much.
Durant might get overlooked at tis, his reputation sotis buried under debates about LeBron or Kobe, but when KD caught fire? Everyone rembered. The second half of the All-Star Ga was still fresh in Lin Yi's mind—a reminder that Durant could take over in an instant. If the Knicks were to extend their streak, it wasn't just on Lin Yi's shoulders. The key would also be Tony Allen.
Tony's energy this season had been contagious. He didn't light up the scoreboard—just 4.5 points per ga—but his impact was undeniable. ESPN's advanced trics backed it up: with Allen on the court, the Knicks outscored opponents by 16.1 points per 100 possessions; without him, the margin shrank to just 7.2. Numbers don't lie. Defense wins gas, and Tony Allen was their defensive heartbeat.
The Thunder, anwhile, had grown stronger since acquiring Kendrick Perkins. Perkins' box scores rarely told the full story—his true value was in grit, positioning, and sheer intimidation. He was the anchor, the one to throw his body around so others could shine.
Lin Yi couldn't help but think ahead, though. In the future, Steven Adams would inherit that mantle. Lin Yi rembered that wild 2017–18 season when Adams averaged over five offensive boards per ga—just absurd. And with Adams setting bone-crunching screens, Lin Yi imagined himself one day chasing the rebounding crown alongside him.
…
Ford Center was rocking. The noise poured down from every seat, blue-and-orange thundersticks clapping in unison. The fans weren't just spectators tonight—they were a wall of energy, refusing to sit until their team scored.
Lin Yi chuckled at the mory of watching the Thunder in his past life. Back then, the ritual was the sa: no one sat until OKC put points on the board. He was thankful, at least, that football didn't have that tradition. If Chinese fans had waited for the national team to score before sitting down, they'd be standing for ninety minutes every ga.
On the court, the Thunder's lineup was clear: Perkins, Ibaka, Durant, Sefolosha, and Westbrook. A mix of toughness, length, and raw firepower.
The Knicks answered with Chandler, Lin Yi, Danny Green, Tony Allen, and Billups. Steady, balanced, battle-tested.
OKC's Achilles heel, however, was obvious. If Durant and Westbrook hit a dry spell, their offense stalls. They could defend with the best of them, but in the Finals down the line, Miami would exploit that very flaw—overwhelming them with wave after wave of scoring threats. Defense only mattered if you could keep pace on the other end.
The ga tipped off with Perkins and Lin Yi at center court. Perkins, shrewd as always, barely contested, preferring to drop back and set the tone defensively.
From the opening possession, the Thunder's pressure was suffocating. Westbrook hounded Billups, forcing the veteran to turn his back to protect the dribble. Chauncey calmly found Lin Yi on the wing.
Ibaka spread his arms wide, eyes locked in, sliding into position. He looked serious, coiled, ready.
But appearances deceive.
Lin Yi leaned into him and imdiately felt the difference. Soft. Ibaka wasn't rooted; his base lacked the strength of a true interior stopper. Lin Yi drove lower, deeper, backing him down toward the rim.
Help ca. Sefolosha darted in for the double.
Lin Yi was ready. He spun out of the trap, gathering himself, and rose with one hand to hamr it down.
Bang!
The rim rattled violently as the dunk crashed ho. Brutal, emphatic.
Brute force, Lin Yi reminded himself, sotis flair wasn't needed.
Perkins was already barking, motioning frantically to Ibaka.
"Lower your stance! Hold your ground!" His expression was a mix of urgency and disbelief.
Thunder ball. The crowd roared, eager for that first basket to finally let them sit.
Durant, however, found himself blanketed by Tony Allen. No space, no rhythm, no easy touches.
So Westbrook took matters into his own hands. He waved for the screen, used Ibaka's pick to shake Billups, and exploded to the rim with his trademark ferocity.
The lane opened, the crowd rose—
And then the ball rimd out.
Groans filled the arena as the fans stayed on their feet, waiting still, restless for that first bucket.
This was a textbook case of Westbrook pushing the tempo a little too hard. The Thunder guard went straight into the teeth of the defense.
Lin Yi was already waiting in the low post. Ibaka squared up, lowered his stance, and looked ready for the battle. Lin Yi didn't bite. Instead of forcing his way through, he spun halfway, pulled the ball back between his legs with deceptive ease, and rose into a fading jumper.
The release was smooth. The net snapped.
4–0 Knicks.
Since polishing his fundantals, Lin Yi's shot-making under pressure had climbed another level. Ibaka's effort was admirable, but man-to-man? Almost impossible to contain him.
Of course, the Thunder's young stars weren't about to let the Garden's noise travel to Oklahoma. This ti, Westbrook called for Durant. The two ran a clean pick-and-roll at the top. Tony Allen fought over the screen, but Durant barely needed an inch. He rose, high and unbothered, and let it fly.
Swish!
Three straight through.
4–3.
Chesapeake Energy Arena erupted, the fans roaring for their franchise cornerstone. Durant gave a little nod. He'd needed that.
After all, the last ti he walked into Madison Square Garden, he'd been booed to the point of questioning reality. Tonight, back ho, he promised himself—silently—that one day he'd bring these fans the trophy they craved.
But the Knicks weren't going to live and die on Lin Yi alone. After his opening pair, it was Danny Green who seized the mont. Billups swung him the ball, Durant's wingspan flashed in his face, and Green barely flinched. Quick rise, clean stroke.
Splash.
7–3 Knicks.
"That's an answer if I've ever seen one!" Barkley barked. "Durant gives you a three, Green fires one right back!"
Kenny Smith chuckled: "Danny Green might be the most underrated piece in New York. He's knocking down threes at over 45 percent this season—that's actually a few points higher than Gallinari."
Barkley jumped in with his trademark bluntness: "And if I'm Mike D'Antoni, I'm thinking, 'Why rush Gallinari back? Let the guy heal. Danny's holding it down.'"
Sowhere in Manhattan, Gallinari, watching from his apartnt, almost dropped the remote. He knew Barkley loved exaggerating, but still—what kind of disrespect was this? He'd spent years shedding the role player title, grinding his way into being a legitimate starter. And now, one injury later, people were already discussing his replacent like he was yesterday's news.
He shut off his phone quickly, resisting the urge to text back his Italian friends who'd just invited him out. One ill-tid nightclub photo, and he might as well kiss that starting spot goodbye.
Back on the floor, Westbrook answered in kind. He bulldozed his way through the Knicks' Tyson-Yi combination, sohow wriggling through two bodies and finishing the layup. Lin Yi found himself shaking his head in quiet awe.
How had this guy, who couldn't even dunk back in high school, turned into such an athletic monster?
Talent mattered, yes. But Westbrook was living proof that sheer work ethic could sculpt a player into a force of nature. He wasn't just explosive—he was relentless. A man who had clawed his way up from nothing.
An inspiration, if there ever was one.
Just as Lin Yi was caught marveling at his opponent's drive, the Thunder unveiled their first real adjustnt of the night.
...
Please do leave a review, helps with the book's exposure.
Feel like joining a Patreon for free and subscribing to advanced chapters?
Visit the link:
[email protected]/GRANDMAESTA_30
Change @ to a
User Comments
0 comments from readers