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Chapter 371: Interlude 2
🕑 Added 2025-09-30 13:45:59 +0000 UTCLin Yi was more serious than ever. He understood perfectly well: if the Knicks wanted to get past the Mavericks, they couldn’t afford to slip. He was the key to this series, whether he liked it or not.
At times, he marveled at his own nerve. Twenty-one years old, already carrying this much weight on his shoulders — and he knew he couldn’t …no, mustn’t flinch.
Not that he regretted it.
Pressure doesn’t always build character; most of the time, it just crushes people. But once a decision is made, there’s no turning back. Grown men take responsibility for their choices, good or bad.
Before the Finals, the Knicks had thought their biggest challenge would be defending home court in the opening games. With the 2-3-2 format looming, even that was daunting. But what they actually ran into was worse.
On June 2nd, under the bright lights of Madison Square Garden, Dallas marched in and stole one. The series was tied 1-1.
Both sides played at a high level — same as Game 1 — but the Mavericks were sharper when it mattered. Nowitzki’s 28 points and 7 rebounds told the story, and his hug with Kidd after the buzzer said the rest.
Lin Yi had done everything he could: 38 points, 13 rebounds, 5 assists.
Still not enough.
The Knicks had failed to hold their second home game. Lin Yi didn’t point fingers. Without this group of teammates, he wouldn’t be here in the first place. But he knew what it meant: the only way out now was to win at least once in Dallas.
The momentum had shifted. After Game 1, public opinion crowned the Knicks favorites. But with Dallas now holding three straight at home, analysts quickly jumped ship, praising the Mavericks’ experience and composure.
That’s how it goes. Winners get the praise. Losers get excuses.
Lin Yi knew what they were up against. Nowitzki wasn’t just scoring — he was hitting daggers. Ellis gave them pace, their perimeter attack stretched defenses to the limit, and once those threes started falling, even good defense didn’t matter.
Still, Knicks fans hadn’t lost faith. They believed their team could bring it back to New York alive.
Before flying out, Lin Yi found himself surrounded by familiar faces — some friends, some troublemakers.
“The Showtime finally got his ass beat!” Harden laughed. No chance he was leaving New York for Dallas; nightlife was his Finals.
Paul chimed in, smirking. “Don’t disappear down there. I still want to see you back here losing again.”
Yao Ming put a heavy hand on Lin Yi’s shoulder.
“Relax. Wins and losses are part of the game.” He paused, then added, “Keep fighting, no matter what. That’s how you grow.”
Lin Yi blinked. Wait… was that encouragement or a curse?
Yi Jianlian handed him a book, looking serious. Lin looked at the saying, Champions are made from losses.
Then he caught Paul and Yi’s smirks. Hold on… were they trolling me?
At least Cousins was genuine — in his own way. He beamed at him, smacking his back, almost burying him in the ground with every whack.
“Lin, you got this!”
Lin Yi covered his face.
Heaven really has no mercy on me.
When Curry came by, Lin Yi sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re here to mess with me, too.”
“Mess with you?” Curry looked wounded. “How could you doubt me? I’m heartbroken.”
Lin Yi couldn’t help but grin, ruffling his teammate’s hair. At least this bond was real.
Curry grabbed a marker, scribbled NO.1 on Lin Yi’s left hand, then signed his own name on the right. “Just so you don’t forget.”
Then, with mock seriousness, he leaned in.
“Lin, I’ve always wanted to say this — I’m the best shooter in the league.” He jumped and tapped Lin’s head and darted away before Lin could respond.
Lin Yi shook his head, half amused, half exasperated. Maybe these guys weren’t here to comfort him after all. But he felt lighter all the same.
…
On June 3rd, the Knicks landed in Dallas.
The city had always been kind to Lin Yi, but not this time. Fans crowded him at the airport, pens and jerseys in hand.
“Lin! Sign this for me!”
“Over here, one more!”
O’Neal frowned. “Are we sure this is Dallas? Feels like New York all over again.”
His teammates just laughed. The truth was simple: people loved Lin Yi everywhere. But when the ball went up, Dallas fans weren’t cheering for him.
Game 3 was set. A must-win. If the Knicks couldn’t steal at least one in Dallas, the Finals might never return to Madison Square Garden.
D’Antoni and his staff burned the midnight oil, dissecting film, scribbling notes, searching for cracks. The players focused on recovery — pushing harder now would only break them.
The stage was ready.
