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Chapter 333: 2011 NBA All Star Weekend
🕑 Added 2025-09-02 14:42:54 +0000 UTC“You two really act like an old married couple,” O’Neal grumbled, watching Lin Yi piggyback Curry on their way into Staples Center.
Lin Yi chuckled while adjusting Curry on his back. “What can I say? Ever since I shot up in height, this has been our postgame tradition back at Davidson. Saves him the walk.”
Curry, who had gone through this ritual countless times, just grinned sheepishly.
As the three of them walked and joked, Kobe suddenly appeared at the entrance. Lin Yi’s eyes lit up, and he turned to O’Neal, half-teasing, half-serious. “Shaq, you know… as a Kobe fan, I’d pay good money to see you carry him the same way again.”
Before Curry could even chime in, he was already waving his arms in dramatic agreement—nearly sliding off Lin Yi’s back in the process.
O’Neal and Kobe froze. Their faces darkened in perfect sync.
“Childish,” they both muttered, deadpan.
…
Meanwhile, Wu Xiaolei, now chief reporter at Sports Weekly, was strolling alongside Qi Jun, who had just landed a tempting offer from Penguin Sports. He was trying to persuade her to jump ship with him.
“Sis Xiaolei, I’m telling you—print is dying. Online’s the future. Faster, sharper, global reach!”
She was about to retort when she suddenly gasped and covered her mouth. “Qi Jun, get your camera out. Now!”
Because there, in broad daylight, was O’Neal—actually carrying Kobe Bryant into Staples Center.
Lin Yi and Curry stood off to the side, exchanging looks that said exactly the same thing: Childish.
Kobe clung to O’Neal’s neck like a sulking younger brother, while O’Neal trudged forward with a theatrical scowl, as if carrying the weight of bad luck itself.
The fans already packed into Staples for warm-ups went absolutely wild. Lakers diehards were beside themselves.
“That’s my childhood!”
“The real OK combo! It’s back!”
Every photographer within range nearly sprained their shutters. The league had been praying for this kind of reunion shot for years, ever since they tried to paper over cracks by naming both Shaq and Kobe All-Star MVPs.
Even Commissioner Stern, watching the moment unfold, grew sentimental for a second—before immediately catching himself. Nah. No way. Reconciliation? Don’t kid yourself. This is smoke and mirrors.
The truth was hilariously simple. Lin Yi had made a bet with Shaq: if Lin and Curry could beat Shaq and Kobe in rock–paper–scissors, then O’Neal had to give Kobe a piggyback ride straight into the arena.
And of course, Shaq had scoffed—until he and Kobe promptly lost. Kobe’s competitive streak wouldn’t let him walk away, so here they were, recreating a bizarre parody of the glory days.
Lin Yi, unable to contain himself, whipped out his phone and snapped photos like his life depended on it. “This… this is my lost youth right here!”
…
The next day marked the official kickoff of All-Star Weekend. Today’s agenda was light: practice runs, media sessions, and plenty of chatter.
Locker-room banter flew around like quick jabs.
“Our form’s terrible, we’ll be lucky just to sneak into the playoffs.”
“Cut it out—you guys are still fighting for first in the West.”
“You’ve been hot lately, dropping points everywhere.”
Lin Yi had faced most of these stars already, but seeing them all together still left him a little starstruck.
During East practice, O’Neal couldn’t resist fooling around. At one point, he scooped up Coach D’Antoni and pretended to dunk him, nearly sending the poor man’s back into early retirement.
“Play loose tomorrow,” D’Antoni groaned, straightening himself out. “Open floor, no holding back. Just have fun.”
James and Wade shared a look as they lined up with Lin Yi. With social media now everywhere, there’d be no repeat of the infamous “freeze Jordan out” incident from the Thomas years. But they weren’t focused on the All-Star Game anyway—they were studying Lin Yi up close, probing for weaknesses they could use when facing the Knicks.
During shooting drills, Lin Yi launched three-pointers from distances that made most players blink. James raised an eyebrow. “You actually practice those bombs from that far out?”
Lin Yi gave him a straight nod. “Yeah.”
James didn’t respond. Just blinked, shook his head, and muttered something under his breath.
Hardly anyone in the league trained those absurd range threes seriously—well, except Curry.
James himself was automatic from open looks in practice, but the difference between training and a real game was massive. Unless he dedicated an offseason to it, his three-ball wasn’t going to terrorize the Knicks suddenly. That was for another season’s work.
The Celtics’ Big Four were there too, coasting their way through drills. Ray Allen, though, had his eyes on the three-point contest. Lin Yi recalled that Allen had once been upset losing the contest to James Jones.
When the two crossed paths, Allen coolly remarked to him, “The three-point contest isn’t the same as a game.”
The line left Lin Yi scratching his head.
Ray Allen wasn’t singling out Lin Yi when he threw his sharp comments around. He’d done the same to Kobe back in the day during a physical test, so the “criticism” wasn’t exactly personal. Allen had always been precise with his words—if something didn’t sit right, he let you know.
Later that afternoon, Garnett and O’Neal found themselves reminiscing about the 2000 All-Star Game in Oakland. Garnett laughed as he recalled carrying around a disposable camera to snap photos of Vince Carter’s legendary dunks. “Man, I was just 24 years old in Minnesota,” Garnett said, shaking his head.
Shaq chuckled at the memory, but then sighed. “We used to go at each other like wild dogs back then. Now? I don’t even have the energy to talk trash anymore.”
“Tell me about it,” Garnett replied, giving him a knowing nod. “Guess time catches up to everyone—even us.”
By the end of the Eastern Conference All-Stars’ training session, the buzz outside the gym was clear: the West looked stronger on paper: bigger names, deeper roster, more offensive firepower. Nobody was shocked that most analysts leaned toward the Western stars.
Lin Yi, however, wasn’t rattled. He shared a light moment with Yao Ming on the sideline.
“Yao, let’s keep it loose tomorrow. Fans don’t come here for defense—they want threes, handles, alley-oops. Stuff they’ll remember.”
Yao gave a small smile and nodded. For years, his All-Star experiences had been frustrating—more duty than fun. But this time? He was actually determined to have a good time.
Western coach Popovich decided to stir the pot a little. With a grin, he said to Lin Yi, “Ever thought about stepping in when Tim hangs it up? Could be your spot next.”
Lin Yi followed Pop’s gaze and saw Duncan calmly rubbing Ginobili’s head like an old monk blessing a disciple. He smirked and shook his head. “Coach, Tim looks like he could keep this up for another decade. You won’t be needing me in that role any time soon.”
He chuckled. “Fair enough. Still, I’ll admit—I’m jealous. The Knicks really struck gold with you and D’Antoni. Some coaches wait a lifetime for that kind of fit.”
..
The afternoon session belonged to the sophomore squad. The Rookie Challenge was a main course of the All-Star Weekend, and chatter was already heating up.
Curry, Harden, and DeRozan huddled together, laughing about a certain loud rookie. The White Beast, as the fans called him, had boldly promised that the freshman team would take down the sophomores.
Lin Yi, though not playing this year, pulled the trio aside. “Listen, without me inside, you guys can’t just pound it in the paint. Keep the pace up. Push the ball every chance you get. Shoot without hesitation, and force them to chase. Run-and-gun, full throttle. That’s how you’ll break them.”
Curry nodded earnestly. Then, during warm-ups, he put on a show that left even Lin Yi slack-jawed—77 consecutive threes without a miss.
“Good lord,” Lin Yi muttered under his breath. “At this rate, he’s going to steal the three-point crown right from me.”
And he wasn’t entirely wrong—Curry was already plotting it. Not only had he signed up for the three-point contest, but he had also signed up for the skills challenge.
That night, Shaq tried to drag Lin Yi out to a nightclub, but Lin politely turned him down. Harden, knowing Lin’s distaste for the nightlife scene, shrugged and whisked DeRozan away to “see L.A. at eight in the evening.”
…
On the 18th, the Staples Center crowd warmed up with the NBA Celebrity Game. Justin Bieber, determined to repair his bruised basketball reputation on YouTube, went all out—scrapping for rebounds, sprinting the floor, and somehow snagging the MVP award.
But as soon as the Rookie Challenge tipped off later, the Celebrity Game was forgotten in a heartbeat.
History twisted that night. Originally, Wall was supposed to lead the freshmen to victory. Instead, Curry and Harden flipped the script. The pair lit it up from beyond the arc, their outside shooting setting the tone. DeRozan, meanwhile, unveiled a smoother jumper than anyone expected, complementing his bounce and slashing game.
Even without Lin Yi, the sophomores stuck to his blueprint. They ran hard, shot quickly, and never let the freshmen catch their breath.
Curry was unconscious—10 threes on 13 attempts, pouring in 38 points to claim the Rising Stars MVP. Harden wasn’t far behind, burying 8 threes of his own and flashing that now-familiar step-back move that would later define his career.
Final score: Sophomores 154, Rookies 146.
Watching from the sidelines, Lin Yi’s earlier worries solidified. Don’t tell me I’m about to get sniped by Stephen of all people…
Curry hugged his MVP trophy with childlike glee. “Lin, last year I touched yours for luck. This year, I got one of my own. Isn’t that crazy?”
Lin Yi patting his teammate's shoulder, half-smiling, half-grimacing. “I swear, if your hot streak carries over tomorrow and you snatch the three-point crown out of my hands, I’ll never hear the end of it. That would be really annoying.”
“Serves you right,” Curry said whilst dodging Lin’s playful swipe.
On the other end of the court, Blake Griffin sat fuming. His rookie game had been underwhelming, overshadowed by Wall’s 22 assists—half of which went to his Kentucky teammate, Cousins.
“Not my fault,” Griffin muttered. “Wall feeds Cousins like it’s second nature. And when I cut? The jumper’s not dropping.”
Still, Griffin wasn’t sulking for long. He clenched his fists and refocused. “Tomorrow, I’ll show them. Home court. Dunk contest. That’s my stage. No way I’m losing to Lin Yi in my house.”
And so, on the 19th, the main event loomed. The Dunk Showdown of the Year was finally here—fans had circled it months in advance, waiting for fireworks.
