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Chapter 346: Knicks vs Warriors
🕑 Added 2025-09-14 15:53:24 +0000 UTCOn March 13th, the Knicks flew west to Sacramento for the second leg of their back-to-back.
Against the Kings, it was Lou Williams who stole the spotlight in the fourth quarter. He played with such confidence that even with Lin Yi resting stretches, the Knicks cruised to a 119–85 win. A 34-point margin on the road, and it honestly could’ve been worse if they’d kept their foot down.
As for the Kings… well, let’s just say their effort didn’t exactly inspire headlines.
And just like that, New York’s bounce-back wasn’t just a spark. It was a full-on hammer strike. In their last two games, the Knicks had outscored opponents by a combined 84 points.
For Lin Yi’s critics—and the Knicks-haters in general—that kind of dominance was like salt poured directly on an open wound.
After the game, one reporter cautiously lobbed the question:
“Lin, do you think the team has finally come out of the shadow of that losing streak?”
Lin Yi, expression deadpan, leaned into the mic.
“It hasn’t rained in New York lately, has it? The sun’s been shining every day. If so, how can there be talk of shadows?”
The room went silent.
Reporters exchanged looks. A few quietly pulled out their phones to check the weather report—sure enough, New York had been clear skies all week.
Some of the younger journalists finally understood why veteran beat writers always warned them before interviewing Lin Yi: bring a bottle of heart medication.
The man had a way of answering with such sincerity that you weren’t sure if he was trolling you, being poetic, or just operating on an entirely different wavelength. Either way, it left you clutching your chest.
…
From Sacramento, the Knicks’ road trip continued up the coast to Oakland, where they were set to face the Warriors, sitting at 31–33.
Eleventh in the West might not sound impressive, but considering where the franchise had been, it was a step forward. If the Warriors were in the East, they’d be sniffing at a playoff spot—maybe even sixth or seventh seed.
The roster had shifted since Monta Ellis’ departure to Dallas, leaving Stephen Curry with more responsibility. And he’d delivered. His scoring had jumped to 21.4 points per game, a noticeable leap from the 18 or so Lin Yi remembered from his past life. That bump, small as it seemed, mattered. Breaking the 20-point average barrier in the NBA isn’t just a stat—it’s a statement.
Curry’s shooting was already ridiculous. He was knocking down threes at nearly 46%, bending defenses even with limited support.
As a friend, Lin Yi felt a sense of pride. There are plenty of people in this world who smile to your face while secretly rooting for your downfall. Curry wasn’t one of them, and Lin Yi genuinely wanted to see him thrive.
History, though, was definitely shifting. The Warriors’ young core—Curry, Dorell Wright, and David Lee—had talent. With the right coach, they might even sneak into the playoffs.
Lin Yi couldn’t help but think about the Jerry West circling above the Bay, ready to reshape the franchise. But with Golden State’s middling record, they weren’t headed for a prime lottery slot. That made things tricky.
He later met up with Curry for some food.
…
Over the dinner table, the conversation shifted to league rumors. Curry leaned back in his chair, serious for a moment.
“Lin, what do you think—are we really heading for a lockout this summer?”
Lin Yi kept his tone even. “Hard to say. We’ll know more once the season’s over.”
Of course, he already knew the answer was yes, but some knowledge wasn’t meant to be shared.
Besides, Curry had other things to focus on—like his upcoming wedding to Ayesha. Lin Yi was quietly curious: if Curry stayed healthy next season, would his rise to superstardom come sooner than in his previous timeline?
Part of Lin Yi’s dynasty plan depended on blunting the Warriors’ eventual dominance. But he also knew that even if he somehow intercepted future draft picks, Jerry West had an eye for talent. After all, this was the man who spotted Kobe Bryant at 17.
The league was a web of cause and effect. The Knicks took Tyson Chandler, and Dallas countered with Okafor and Ellis. That’s what made contenders dangerous—they always found ways to reload.
“If the lockout does happen, I’m planning to go back to Davidson to keep working on my degree,” Curry said casually.
Lin Yi nodded. He remembered that in his other life, Curry had done just that—returned to campus, practiced with the Davidson team, even though NCAA rules barred him from suiting up in official games. The students adored him anyway.
On the court, Curry’s body still wasn’t fully mature. His core strength needed work; his defense had holes. Caron Butler’s arrival had eased some of the burden, but the Warriors still lacked that wing stopper who could take pressure off their backcourt.
..
Lin Yi enjoyed a warm dinner cooked by Ayesha.
Her cooking was even more flavorful since the last time he visited, and Lin Yi, never shy about giving credit where it was due, praised her skills generously.
“Ayesha, you’ve really levelled up,” Lin Yi said between bites. “Steph’s lucky. Not many players in the league go home to food this well.”
Ayesha laughed, shaking her head modestly. “Thank you, Lin. But don’t deflect—shouldn’t you be thinking about finding someone of your own by now?”
Lin nearly choked on his food. That single line hit harder than any flagrant foul. For a man chasing MVP and dreaming of championships, this was the one question he had no answer for.
After dinner, while Ayesha cleared the dishes, Curry leaned back on the sofa, studying Lin with a grin.
“You’ve changed, Lin,” he said in mock seriousness.
Lin blinked. “???”
“To think—once upon a time—you lost to me three thousand times in a row in one-on-one.”
Lin rolled his eyes. “Heh.”
“And to think, there was a time when you begged me to teach a step-back jumper after practice.”
“Heh.”
“And to think—”
“Steph,” Lin cut in, shaking his head with a smile, “how about we fire up 2K before you embarrass yourself any further?”
Curry chuckled. “Nah, nah. Let’s talk about tomorrow’s game. You’re not getting off that easy.”
…
March 15th, 2011.
Oracle Arena.
“Young Curry is on fire tonight!” Barkley exclaimed as another rainbow three splashed through the net.
“This is the Steph we know,” Kenny added. “He is one half of the Shooting Stars—his shooting ability has always been remarkable.”
The Warriors had started the game with an uncharacteristically sharp bite, forcing the Knicks into an early timeout.
On the Knicks bench, Lin Yi leaned against Billups and lowered his voice.
“Chauncey, listen. Steph loves pulling up off the high screen—especially when he drags the big out. If you crowd him, he’ll hesitate, but don’t let him get into rhythm.”
Billups nodded, but sighed. “Lin, I get what you’re saying, but guys who play by feel… they’re hard to cage in. He’s not even hunting me one-on-one—he’s dancing around those screens. Hard to fight through every single one.”
Lin rubbed his chin. Billups had a point. Maybe it was time to unleash Tony—his relentless defense could wear Curry down better than brute force.
Meanwhile, on the Warriors bench, Curry was having a mirrored conversation with Cousins.
“DeMarcus, listen. Lin’s weakness is this—he loves going downhill when he smells blood. If you don’t give ground early, he’ll force the issue. Make him shoot over you.”
Cousins gave him a look of despair. “Stephen, I understand, but come on—Lin’s attacking me straight up tonight. No screens, no hesitation. Just bullying his way in. It’s like trying to stop a moving wall.”
Curry nodded, already thinking ahead. Maybe it was time to ask Coach Jackson to throw David Lee at Lin. David knew Lin’s tendencies from their year together in New York—if anyone could slow him, it might be him.
And so, as both benches wrapped up their timeouts, Lin Yi and Stephen Curry found themselves plotting against each other like old chess rivals.
“Just you wait, Steph,” Lin muttered under his breath.
Curry, across the court, grinned to himself. “Just you wait, Lin.”
