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Chapter 374: 2011 NBA Finals 3 ( Death Comes To All)
🕑 Added 2025-10-02 13:58:00 +0000 UTCGame 4 of the Finals tipped off with the Knicks striking first. In just a few minutes, they’d blasted the Mavericks 16–7.
“Digging Tyson up was a smart move,” Lin Yi thought, giving himself a quiet mental thumbs up. For a while, he’d assumed Dallas’ biggest problem without Chandler was losing their defensive anchor. But watching them now, it was clear—the issue ran deeper. Okafor just wasn’t enough of a barrier against New York’s Death Five lineup.
Basketball keeps reinventing itself. Even Phil Jackson’s triangle worked wonders with Jordan and Kobe, but couldn’t click with Melo.
Was that the fault of the system?
Not really. Tactics live or die depending on the players running them. What works for one group can completely collapse with another.
On the Mavericks’ bench, Rick Carlisle looked restless. Game 1 had slipped when Dirk battled through a fever—understandable, that happens. Game 3? Painful, but survivable. But Game 4? Losing here would shove Dallas right up against the wall.
So he burned a timeout. Carlisle wasn’t Doc Rivers when it came to fiery speeches, but the benefit of coaching veterans is that they don’t need theatrics. They regroup quickly; they adjust quickly.
On the Knicks’ side, things weren’t all rosy either. The Death Five wasn’t built to last a whole game. Even with O’Neal rotated in, the lineup was draining Lin Yi fast. At 7’, he wasn’t just contesting rebounds and protecting the rim—he was also playmaking and scoring. That workload would break most bodies.
In the regular season, Lin had often leaned on conserving energy, using his spatial awareness and positioning to defend rather than grind out possessions.
But in the Finals?
No shortcuts. From Game 1 onward, he’d been all-in.
When both teams switched back to their regular lineups, Lin shifted gears—no longer the organizer, but the primary scorer. By the end of the first quarter, the Knicks held a 29–23 lead.
The second quarter brought more of the same. Lin kept pushing, the Death Five stretched the lead, and Dallas’ second unit looked spooked just like in Game 3.
Carlisle considered dusting off the Hack-a-Shaq again, but it wasn’t worth it. Ironically, at 39, O’Neal was shooting 60% from the line this postseason.
Sometimes, luck really is part of strength. And in this playoff run, the Knicks seemed touched by fate.
Halftime: Knicks 58, Mavericks 48.
Ten points wasn’t an impossible gap, but Carlisle had a bigger question gnawing at him. New York hadn’t needed the Death Five after halftime in Game 3. But what about tonight?
Shaq could only give short bursts these days, sure. But in a must-win setting, couldn’t he manage five more minutes if it meant breaking Dallas’ spirit?
Exhaustion has limits, but so does desperation. And humans, unlike machines, can push past those limits with sheer will.
Carlisle’s gut proved right. The Knicks rolled out the Death Five immediately after the break.
Shaq had joked that he wasn’t in New York to carry anyone, but rather to let Lin Yi hold onto him. Funny thing was, it made sense now—everyone on this roster had been essential in getting here.
Five minutes into the third, O’Neal was visibly spent. Ten donuts and five Big Macs wouldn’t have gotten him moving again. But the damage was done. The Knicks had blown the lead open—73–57.
Dallas could feel the abyss creeping up on them. A 16-point hole, at home, in a Finals game that could decide their fate. Their fans refused to fold, though.
From the lower bowl to the nosebleeds, chants of “Defense! Defense! Attack! Attack!” filled the arena during possessions.
Carlisle burned another timeout. He knew chasing possessions one by one was pointless. The math was against him.
With a quarter and a half still to play, Carlisle knew the clock wasn’t the only enemy—the real problem was Lin Yi.
The big man looked like he’d push himself beyond his limits if that’s what it took. If the game settled into a trade—you score, I score—Dallas would end up exactly where they had in Game 3: chasing shadows.
The Mavericks needed a run, a surge to ignite their crowd and swing the momentum. Carlisle had been here before. He hadn’t forgotten 2007, when Dallas’ juggernaut was toppled by the eighth-seeded Warriors raining threes from every angle.
That Golden State team had lived on long-range chaos, firing up over thirty threes a game, hitting just enough to make history.
So when Carlisle huddled his players, he made his choice: live or die by the arc.
The Knicks’ defense had been their backbone all season, and D’Antoni knew the danger of giving Dallas clean looks. But once the Mavericks caught the fever, it was contagious. Suddenly, they weren’t just hitting threes; they were slipping backdoor for easy twos when New York overextended.
By the end of the third, the Knicks still led 88–79, but the Mavericks had dragged themselves back into the fight.
Lin Yi had played every minute so far, and even though he wanted to keep going, D’Antoni had no choice but to sit him.
“It’s only one game if we push him too far,” the coach reasoned. For the opening stretch of the fourth, it would fall to Billups to steady the ship.
And the veteran didn’t blink. He pulled out the Desert Eagle and kept Dallas honest, trading big shots in a back-and-forth slugfest. With six minutes left, Lin Yi checked back in. The scoreboard read 99–93, the lead trimmed to six.
Both sides were firing from deep. Dallas had already knocked down 12 threes; the Knicks, 11. It felt like the opening act of a new era.
Then came Dirk. Falling away, glassing in a three under heavy pressure—his 31st point of the night. The crowd roared as the deficit shrank to three: 99–96.
Lin Yi answered instantly, gliding into the lane and finishing with that crossover of his. 101–96.
The game reached its boiling point in the final two minutes. With 1:31 on the clock, Lin Yi calmly sank two free throws, pushing New York up 111–107. Everyone knew who Dallas would look to next.
But it wasn’t Dirk who took the shot. Monta Ellis, brimming with confidence after a 19-point night, decided to take matters into his own hands. He’d been brilliant at times, fearless at others—but this time, he ran straight into Tyson Chandler.
The man stood his ground. Ellis’ layup clanged out. A wasted possession.
Lin Yi swallowed up the rebound. Billups slowed things down, bleeding the clock as 20,000 fans screamed “Defense! Defense!”
Then Lin Yi struck. Pull-up three, legs kicking, wrist snapping, body hanging in the air just a second longer than anyone else’s. The ball arced, dropped cleanly, and Dallas fell silent.
114–107.
A dagger.
“Lin Yi has really embodied his name tonight. You can’t stop him. He is inevitable. Death comes to all,” Zhang’s voice cracked over the broadcast. “Look at the look in his eyes—absolute conviction!”
Seven points in a minute isn’t impossible. But Dallas unraveled. Ellis, still rattled, mishandled a pass. Tony Allen swooped in with his trademark quick hands, stripping it clean and turning it into another Knicks bucket.
Dirk, exhausted but magnificent with 38 points, could only stare up at the rafters of the American Airlines Center. Another missed chance. Another step away from the title.
When the buzzer sounded, it was 118–109. The Knicks had stolen another one in Dallas, taking a commanding 3–1 lead in the Finals.
