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Chapter 366: Interlude
🕑 Added 2025-09-29 11:30:18 +0000 UTCLin Yi buried a cold, deep three to force overtime.
In the extra period, the Knicks closed the door — no more chances for the Heat. When the final buzzer sounded, it read 121–116, and Lin Yi — exhausted, glowing, thirty-four points on the night — could finally let himself relax.
A 3–0 lead in the Eastern Conference Finals isn’t just good. It’s a statement.
When the series was 1–0, Knicks fans dared to dream. At 2–0, they started to believe it could happen. At 3–0, the hope felt suddenly like a near certainty.
On the floor after the final whistle, the scene was chaotic: King James stared blankly at the roofs with his hands to his waist; Flash — who poured in thirty-eight and nearly stole the game — bit the collar of his jersey, eyes still dazed. Bosh pulled his jersey over his head and, for a second, looked smaller than he is.
In the Knicks’ locker room at American Airlines Arena, there was chaos. Lin Yi, barely able to stand, stopped Gallinari and Lou Williams from spraying champagne — he didn’t have the energy for a victory parade.
“First, let me tell you a story,” someone said — “2005, Istanbul…” It was half a joke, half a prayer.
The Knicks didn’t linger. D’Antoni gestured to his guys: get back to the hotel, celebrate there. This was one to savor — harder than the coaching staff expected, and worth every ounce of relief.
O’Neal could barely walk; Lin Yi, Whiteside, and Gallinari helped him to the bus. The image of that young-at-heart veteran being hoisted around would be headline fodder tomorrow.
“Lin, thirty-four tonight,” Gallinari said as they moved through the tunnel, eyes lighting on a random coincidence. “Thirty-four — that was Shaq’s number in L.A.”
Fate, luck, whatever you want to call it — it was hanging in the air.
D’Antoni later singled out O’Neal and that buzzer-beater in the press room.
“Shaq helped us in every way,” he said. “And that three at the end… I still can’t believe it went in. That’s basketball.”
People reach for big words when moments don’t make sense. “Fate,” “destiny,” “magic” — they’re shorthand for the unexplainable. Lin Yi admitted it himself: that last fourth-quarter shot had a lot of luck in it.
“Luck is part of strength,” O’Neal mumbled from his seat on the bus, smiling. Didn’t the Lakers have their share of lucky nights? Fisher’s 0.4 seconds? History is messy like that.
Social exploded as usual — clips, hot takes, memes — but Lin Yi skipped the press conference and ignored his phone. He was too tired to enjoy the noise. The night taught him something clear: even a carefully written plan is still susceptible to surprise.
With the Knicks up 3–0, the series was teetering toward a quick end. The only question: would James and the Heat be swept?
Out West, the Mavericks veterans were being reminded that nothing was guaranteed. Facing the Thunder’s young core brought the series to 2–1.
Carlisle, seeing the slippery slope, used the Knicks as motivation for his team.
“This might be our best chance,” Carlisle told his players. “If the Knicks sweep the Heat and we can’t close out the Thunder, we’ll go into the Finals worse off physically. Treat every game like it matters.”
There were a lot of veterans on that Dallas roster who’d never been champions. They weren’t here for appearances — they wanted the whole thing. The Finals can change everything.
Durant didn’t bother with headlines after his win. He’d watched the Knicks–Heat game the night before; he knew the media would be hyping Lin Yi.
“Kevin, seriously — that shot was sick!” Westbrook called out later, mid-shower, clearly excited. “If I hit one like that, I’ll clip it and watch it a hundred times.”
Durant said nothing, eyes somewhere far away, the steam and sport-bath chatter wrapping around him. Then, as if on cue, Ibaka’s soap slipped and slid in front of Durant. Ibaka scrambled, glanced apologetically — and Durant just stared. Some postgame moments are quieter than others.
The Knicks ultimately didn’t sweep. For once, Stern seemed relieved; a sweep would have been a lesson, sure, but another game meant higher ratings — and the public wanted the drama. New York fans, practical as ever, weren’t obsessed with a sweep. They wanted unity, a deep playoff run, and the comforts of home for a potential celebration.
The Heat’s morale was low. They’d been running a short rotation, and it showed — tired legs, frayed minds. Unless the Knicks slip, the series will likely end soon.
Back at the villa, Lin Yi found the living room spotless — Olsen had cleaned up. He smiled, then Olsen appeared from the kitchen with a mock pout.
“What’s up?” he asked, sliding onto the couch.
“Fifth Avenue has this deal,” she said, theatrical woe in her voice. “A store gives a $100 discount for every block you make. I went today — and they closed before I got there.”
Lin Yi blinked. “You went looking for a sports discount?”
“You know I did,” she replied. “I missed out on potentially hundreds of dollars.”
He laughed. After a night like that, retail misfortune was almost adorable. Lin Yi let himself grin, shook his head at the small before carrying his pouting to the beauty to watch a movie.
No more chances for the Heat, he thought. The next game is at home. Time to finish it.
