"Hmm…"
Lin Yi stretched his legs under the desk, eyes locked on the glowing tablet in front of him. The numbers stared back like a row of trophies. He'd been scrolling through his season stats for nearly two hours, and the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth refused to leave.
Eighty-two gas, eighty-two starts. Thirty-five point nine minutes a night. After Chauncey Billups joined the squad, he'd spent more fourth quarters on the bench than he liked—Coach's version of three-quarter clocking-in—but the trade-off was clear. Fewer minutes, sharper edges. His efficiency had shot through the roof.
The season line read like sothing out of a video ga:
33.7 points, 13.5 rebounds, 6.7 assists, 3.0 blocks, 1.4 steals. Only 2.1 turnovers and 2.3 fouls.
He tapped the screen, letting the totals sink in.
2,763 points. 1,107 rebounds. 549 assists. 246 blocks. 115 steals.
A 2,000 1,000 500 200 100 campaign—sothing even the old heads at MSG would raise a glass to.
And every single Eastern Conference Player of the Month award now sat in his trophy case.
"If I can keep this pace for two more seasons," he said under his breath, "ten thousand points is mine inside four years."
The thought made him lean back and exhale. LeBron's record as the youngest to 10k was a tall mountain—Jas had started climbing at eighteen. But twenty thousand? That might be a different conversation. Stay healthy, stay hungry, and it was possible.
His shooting splits glowed almost unreal:
50.4% from the field, 42.2% from deep, a free-throw clip of 95.1%.
At the rim?
A cool 71.5%. True shooting a ridiculous 64.7%.
Back-to-back seasons in the exclusive 180 Club—joining Bird and Nash in the history books. Not bad company.
Around the league, the usual suspects had tried to chase him down. Carlo Anthony went on a post-Billups rampage, but when the Nuggets' record nosedived, the fans turned restless. lo finished at 31.7 a night, playoff hopes gone. Lin Yi shook his head softly.
"Tough break. Hope you find a new path."
Last year's scoring champ, Kevin Durant, played it safer with the Thunder, making a serious push. Thirty-point-one per ga wasn't enough. The crown belonged to New York now.
Rebounding? Third place. Kevin Love muscled his way to the top, Dwight Howard right behind. Lin Yi, never shy of a fight in the paint, had to smile at that.
"Guess boxing out all year still counts for sothing."
Assists, though, that stung. Nash once again wore the passing crown at 11.8 dis a night.
Lin Yi knew the book was out on him—next season, every defense would throw a Jordan Rule his way. Until the Knicks found another guard to draw heat, the dream of a triple-double season would have to wait.
Blocks offered so consolation: league leader.
But MVP buzz ant no Defensive Player of the Year—league politics rarely crowned the sa guy twice.
"Maybe when the next big man, Jokic, takes over," he mused, "they'll loosen the rules."
Steals went to Chris Paul at 2.4 per ga. Not bad for the point-god.
Lin Yi thumbed out a text: Hold the Mavericks down, Saint Paul. Dallas is yours to ta.
He chuckled, picturing CP3 reading it. The playoffs lood.
Stats were nice, but the real season was about to start.
...
The regular season had finally wrapped, and with the playoffs only days away, talk around the league had shifted from nightly box scores to the glitter of year-end awards. MVP debates ruled every studio show, every podcast. And no matter how the question was frad, Lin Yi's na sat squarely at the top.
His numbers were so outrageous that even ESPN's late-night panel wondered aloud if he might beco the first unanimous MVP. That single word—unanimous—had every sportswriter in the city buzzing.
Shaquille O'Neal, never shy about his own résumé, rolled his eyes every ti the topic ca up. "Man, they owe one from back when Iverson took it," he grumbled to the Knicks players. "MVP's political, always has been."
Lin Yi, catching the mood, walked over and clapped a broad hand on Shaq's shoulder. "Don't worry, big man. Maybe you'll snag another Finals MVP. Plenty of room in that trophy case."
Shaq shot him a mock glare and responded with a playful sending of a towel sailing at Lin Yi's head. The locker room burst into laughter.
Later, in his dia scrum, Lin Yi kept his tone asured. "I'm not losing sleep over who gets the award," he said with a small shrug. "You learn pretty quickly that chasing headlines can hurt you more than help you. We've got bigger goals in front of us."
The Knicks' star knew the truth—David Stern and the league office loved the suspense. Derrick Rose had put together a strong season, but the Bulls' record and stats trailed New York's, and Lin Yi's na recognition was already sky-high. Stern might tease the story, but everyone in the room sensed where the vote would land.
The only bittersweet note: Mike D'Antoni, despite guiding the Knicks to a historic 69–13 finish, wasn't likely to claim Coach of the Year.
"That one's probably headed to Thibs in Chicago," Lin Yi admitted. D'Antoni only smiled when asked, waving it off. "The best award," the coach said, "is the one you hold up in June."
…
On April 16, the Knicks filed their official 13-man playoff roster:
Centers: Tyson Chandler, Shaquille O'Neal
Power Forwards: Lin Yi, Shane Battier
Small Forwards: Danilo Gallinari, Jeff Green, Lance Stephenson
Shooting Guards: Lou Williams, Tony Allen, Wilson Chandler
Point Guards: Chauncey Billups, Stephon Marbury
Inactive: Shaun Livingston
Two nas were missing that fans had hoped to see. Rookie big man Hassan Whiteside didn't make the cut, and guard Pat Ewing Jr.
In the playoffs, minutes tighten and rotations shrink. Lin Yi's workload was already projected to climb to around forty-two minutes a night, with stretches at center. That left little room for developntal minutes.
Ewing Jr. decided with grace. "I just want to see these guys finish what we started," he said quietly after practice. "Even if I'm cheering from the sidelines, I'm part of this."
…
That afternoon, the Knicks held their final full practice before the opener against Milwaukee. The ssage from the coaching staff was simple: start fast, finish faster. They wanted a sweep, extra rest, and a front-row seat to watch Boston and Orlando slug it out in the other bracket.
anwhile, the Knicks' marketing team unveiled a playoff gift for the fans: a special-edition white T-shirt designed by Caesar, the sa artist behind Lin Yi's Nike Death Series sneakers.
The front showed a bold cartoon of the entire squad—Lin Yi wielding a sword, teammates holding shields—a perfect nod to their One Man, One City campaign.
Across the back, a line in English declared:
The king of the East Coast has drawn his sword. With 69 wins, go create your legend.
Every seat in Madison Square Garden would have one waiting when the doors opened.
...
Please do leave a review and powerstones, 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