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Chapter 352: Season Of Harvest
🕑 Added 2025-09-21 13:37:09 +0000 UTCApril Fool’s Day brought no surprises for New York.
The Knicks strolled into Toronto and beat the Raptors, then returned home the next night to complete a clean season sweep.
After the second game, DeMar DeRozan lingered near mid-court, watching Lin Yi exchange high-fives with teammates. Back in their college days, he could keep up with Lin; now he could only admire how far his old rival had climbed.
“Lin, when you reach the Finals, I’m coming to New York to cheer for you”, DeRozan said, a smile softening the sting of defeat.
For DeRozan, Lin is equal parts mentor and friend. The 2009 draft class might joke about blocking Lin out of their group chats, but they all track his every headline. Blake Griffin isn’t the only one measuring himself against New York’s star.
Davidson’s once-slight sapling had grown into a towering tree, and the NBA was taking notice.
Lin pulled DeRozan in for a quick hug. “I’ll make sure you’ve got the best seat in the house,” he replied.
…
On April 5th and 7th, the Knicks followed up with home wins over the Nets and the Magic.
What really moved the Madison Square Garden faithful wasn’t just the victories but the sight of Shaun Livingston hobbling into the arena on crutches to support his teammates.
“That,” Charles Barkley said on TNT with uncharacteristic calm, “is why people believe this Knicks team might do something special.”
When Livingston embraced Stephon Marbury on the sideline, every rumor of locker-room feuds looked absurd.
Something powerful had taken root in this group. It’s what kept a 39-year-old Shaquille O’Neal pounding the hardwood at 150 kilograms, what coaxed Marbury back to New York despite old scars, and what helped Livingston rise from devastating injury to serve as inspiration.
Danny Green had sweated through endless summer sessions. Danilo Gallinari shelved his early-career arrogance and got back to work. Even Lance Stephenson and Hassan Whiteside waved towels with full-throated cheers when they couldn’t get minutes.
Chauncey Billups left Denver’s mile-high comfort to chase a dream in the Garden. Tyson Chandler stayed late for one-on-one battles with Lin. Shane Battier and Tony Allen spent countless hours refining their already stingy defense.
Little Chandler’s thunderous breakaway dunks, Lou Williams’ audacious shot-making—all of it fed the energy.
To be part of something bigger.
Up in the stands, a young fan held a banner made from Lin’s jerseys, stitched together into one long ribbon of hope:
“Move forward toward dreams and championships!”
Rich or poor, Wall Street or borough blocks—when the closing bell of the 2010-11 season neared, Knicks fans had never felt such optimism.
…
The streak ended on April 9th in Washington. The Wizards caught New York on an off night, and Yi Jianlian looked sharper than ever—averaging 10.1 points and 7.5 rebounds on the season, earning every bit of the contract he was playing for.
Afterward, Yi found Lin outside the locker room and patted him on the shoulder.
“Lin,” he said quietly, “Yao Ming called. When his playoff run finishes, he and I are coming to New York to watch you reach the top.”
Yi has never been one for speeches, but the intent in his eyes said enough. He might never match Lin’s path, but that hardly mattered. He was already imagining the day the two of them would wear the same jersey again, side by side for the national team.
The Chinese men’s squad has thanked Lin ever since the Guangzhou Asian Games—not just for his training, but for the way he elevated everyone around him through his speeches. At the medal ceremony that year, every teammate draped their gold medal around veteran Wang Zhizhi’s neck.
Wang later told reporters, “Lin talked with me about this months ago. In Asia, this team doesn’t need excuses. We just need belief.”
...
On April 11, Madison Square Garden felt like the center of the basketball universe.
The Knicks took down the Miami Heat yet again, sweeping the season series and handing LeBron James, Dwyane Wade, and Chris Bosh their fourth loss to New York this year.
Both sides played it smart. With playoff seeds already set, no one wanted to empty the tank. LeBron skipped the post-game microphones entirely.
The LBJ understood better than anyone that April is just the prologue; the playoffs are where reputations are forged and crowns are earned. He’d shed Cleveland’s colors and became the villain when he left, and he knew the only way to shut everyone up was with a championship ring.
Two nights later, the Knicks dispatched the Cavaliers at home. Cleveland looked lost, a franchise searching for purpose and a savior.
…
On April 15, New York closed the regular season in Milwaukee, wrapping all 82 games with a tidy road win. Fittingly, the Bucks—beaten on their own floor—would become the Knicks’ first-round opponent.
And with that, the curtain fell on the 2010-11 regular season.
…
The numbers were staggering.
New York finished with a league-best 69–13 record—first in the Eastern Conference, first across the NBA, the finest season in franchise history, and tied with the 1971-72 Lakers for the second-best mark ever.
Only the fabled 72-win Bulls of 1996 stand higher. Both of those historic teams ended their campaigns with the trophy. The implication for New York was obvious: the opportunity was there.
The East shaped up like this:
New York Knicks
Chicago Bulls
Cleveland Cavaliers
Boston Celtics
Orlando Magic
Atlanta Hawks
Philadelphia 76ers
Milwaukee Bucks
Indiana, Charlotte, Detroit, New Jersey, Washington, and Toronto filled out the rest.
Out West, the picture was just as intriguing:
San Antonio Spurs
Los Angeles Lakers
Dallas Mavericks
Oklahoma City Thunder
Portland Trail Blazers
New Orleans Hornets
Houston Rockets
Memphis Grizzlies
Behind them trailed Phoenix, Golden State, Denver, Utah, the Clippers, Sacramento, and the rebuilding Huskies.
…
After the team flight touched down in New York, Lin Yi barely paused before heading to a late-night meeting with Spike Lee. The legendary director was deep in the editing room, putting the final touches on a documentary that chronicled Lin’s journey and the Knicks’ improbable rise.
“Think we should premiere it on April 17, right before Game One?” Spike asked, eyes bright with the energy of a man who hadn’t left the studio in days.
Lin shook his head with a small smile. “Not yet. Let’s wait until the Eastern Finals. Drop it when we really need a spark.”
He’d already screened a rough cut and knew Spike had nailed it—montages cut to swelling music, behind-the-scenes grit, moments of pure Garden electricity. It wasn’t just a film; it was ammunition.
This season marked the second straight year Lin played every single game. The constant flights, the endless practices, the weight of carrying a contender—it all took a toll. Yet he never cut corners. He understood that control is an illusion; the only thing a player can own is preparation.
And when he finally stepped outside from Spike’s Studio into the cool New York night, the fatigue melted into something else: quiet satisfaction. The work had been brutal, but the reward was undeniable.
Spring, after all, is the season of harvest—and for Lin Yi and the Knicks, the real harvest was starting.
