NBA: Journey To Become Unplayable. Chapter 504 504: Shaq Pays A Visit

September 27th, 2012

Knicks Training Facility

After wrapping up their joint training camp in the Bahamas, the Knicks returned to New York together.

"Is it almost done?" Tyson Chandler glanced at the clock, then looked over at Paul, Wilson, and a few others.

"Pretty much," Wilson Chandler. replied calmly. Experience had taught him how these things usually went.

Less than two minutes later, Yao Ming and Draymond Green walked out of the gym.

Both looked completely deflated.

"Seriously," Draymond muttered, rubbing his face. "Is that guy even human?"

Yao added. "Zhè bù kěnéng shì zhēn de."

(This can't be real.)

Seeing their expressions, Chandler chuckled and gave them each a light pat on the back.

"Don't take it too hard," he said. "I felt the sa way the first ti I saw Lin Yi's test results."

Only then did Yao and Draymond finally understand why no one on the Knicks ever reacted to Lin Yi's physical reports.

Because once you saw them, all you could really do was question your life choices.

Forget basketball dreams—this was a different species altogether.

Strength and conditioning coach Duber, on the other hand, was practically glowing. He'd been waiting all sumr to see the results of Lin Yi's special training, and now that he did, he looked like a kid in a candy store.

Lin Yi's listed weight for the new season was 124 kilograms. Body fat percentage: 9%.

To put on that mass, his speed had technically dipped—slightly. His three-quarter-court sprint without the ball slowed to 6.0 seconds, and with the ball to 6.45.

Yao Ming and Draymond Green exchanged looks.

"To hell with that being 'slower,'" Draymond said flatly. "Soone call security. He's doing this on purpose."

On the first day of full-team practice, the Knicks looked sharp. The chemistry built in the Bahamas carried over smoothly, and rotations felt natural rather than forced.

D'Antoni watched from the sideline, clearly pleased. The roster might not have had a third or fourth All-Star, but the structure made sense. Everything fit.

He planned to keep last season's starting five intact. If Yao anchored the second unit, Lin Yi and Paul could get real rest. And if the offense stalled, they could always slow it down and let Yao work the post.

After practice, Mike D'Antoni pulled Lin Yi aside.

"Any thoughts on rotations or tactics this year?" he asked casually.

At this point, it was obvious he already saw Lin Yi as more than just a player.

Lin Yi didn't hesitate.

"For rotations, keep doing what we were previously doing. We should protect the veterans as much as possible, especially on back-to-backs. Draymond gives us defensive flexibility. If Marcus Morris is on the floor, I can slide to the four."

"As for tactics," he continued, "Sa things you said. We stay aggressive. Push the pace, increase possessions, and win by outscoring the opponents. Manage minutes properly so we don't pay for it later."

D'Antoni nodded, smiling.

The core hadn't changed, even if the pieces around it had.

With the league leaning harder into run-and-gun basketball, pace was only going to increase. And the faster the ga got, the more it played into Lin Yi's hands.

After all, three straight MVPs wasn't just a dream—it was a real target. He already had two. If not now, then when?

Once the league office changed hands, who knew how voting would go?

Lin Yi and Paul had already made their fried chicken pact back in the Bahamas.

This season, Lin Yi wasn't going to chase triple-doubles on purpose. Doing that always ca at the cost of scoring. And honestly, whether it was 30-plus with a triple-double or 25, 15, and 10—it barely moved the needle anymore.

People expected greatness from him now.

The goal wasn't numbers.

It was winning.

. . .

Lin Yi planned to make a serious run at Michael Jordan's single-season scoring mark—30.1 points per ga, a number that had stood untouched since full statistical tracking began.

At a certain level, achievents had to evolve. Repeating the sa kind of dominance year after year only dulled the impact. Lin Yi had already proven he could do everything on the floor. This season, he wanted to tilt the focus in a different direction.

In a league built on scoring, a scoring title was the loudest statent you could make—eye-catching, undeniable, and impossible to ignore. And if he wanted to push for a third straight MVP, taking a less conventional route made sense.

Plus, the NBA Statistical Minimums Rule was back to full effect after the lockout-shortened season.

The rule set a minimum participation threshold for per-ga statistical rankings: a player had to appear in at least 70% of gas. If a player logged fewer than 58 gas, their total stats would be divided by 58, unlike last season's minimum being 56 for ranking purposes.

For the upcoming season, Lin Yi intended to prioritize scoring. Assists wouldn't disappear—far from it—but he would be more deliberate about where they went. Helping Paul flourish more as a playmaker was part of the plan. And since Rajon Rondo had been making bold claims, Lin Yi figured it was ti he and Paul delivered a reality check.

When it ca to piling up assists, how were the aging Celtics veterans supposed to keep up with him anyway?

And honestly—if scoring ca easily, why make things harder than they needed to be?

That was why the Knicks' offense was about to shift. Isolation Paul would gradually turn into Playmaking Paul. It diversified the attack and made the Knicks far less predictable.

Lin Yi planned to answer with pick-and-rolls, cuts, and off-ball movent.

By blending quick, high-percentage baskets with selective isolation plays, Lin Yi could stay efficient while conserving energy. And if he sohow broke Jordan's 30.1 mark while staying in the 180 Club, his place in history would take a massive leap forward.

Of course, plans always looked cleaner on paper.

. . .

September 28th was dia Day.

Shaquille O'Neal—forr Knicks champion and eternal presence—dropped by to visit his old team.

Spotting him, Lin Yi jogged over with a grin, hugging the shit out of Lin.

"Shaq," Lin Yi said excitedly after barely pulling away, "ever think about un-retiring and picking up an easy ring with us? Kobe's chasing number six. If he passes you, people might start talking."

Shaq burst out laughing.

Then Lin Yi imdiately regretted his life choices.

Retired Shaq was sohow even more dangerous. The man was well over four hundred pounds now, and the force behind a casual hug was… educational.

Shaq turned to Chandler and Paul, raising an eyebrow.

"You guys really just let him talk like that all the ti?"

Paul covered his face with one hand, making it very clear he wanted no part of this.

Chandler, anwhile, launched into a long, emotional retelling of his suffering at Lin Yi's hands, drawing laughter from everyone nearby.

Yao Ming and Shaq were old friends, and the two quickly fell into conversation. Shaq even showed Yao a few grappling tricks, half-joking, half-serious. Before leaving, Shaq ntioned he'd be stopping by more often during the season.

In his view, ever since he retired, the league's big n had gotten a little too comfortable.

Especially Lin Yi.

So on that dia Day, Lin Yi's exaggerated yelps echoed through the gym more than once—each one a reminder that the Big Aristotle was still very much present, even in retirent.

. . .

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