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Chapter 297: Knicks vs Bobcats
🕑 Added 2025-08-12 23:22:24 +0000 UTCCharlotte, North Carolina
Time Warner Cable Arena
Knicks vs. Bobcats.
For the Bobcats, the mission this season was simple but daunting: make the playoffs. They weren’t favorites, but they were fighters. For Lin Yi, this trip to Charlotte had a different kind of charm—this was one of his roommate Stephen Curry’s favorite away stops. Curry had grown up here, and Old Dell Curry had spent some of his best years lighting up this very arena. Every time Steph came back around, there was a little extra spring in his step.
Bobcats head coach Paul Silas sent out his starting five:
Darko Miličić
Boris Diaw
Gerald Wallace
Stephen Jackson
D.J. Augustin.
The Knicks countered with:
Tyson Chandler
Lin Yi
Danilo Gallinari
Wilson Chandler
Chauncey Billups.
...
On the pregame broadcast on TNT, Marv Albert leaned over to his co-commentator.
“Kerr, how many points do you think Lin Yi drops tonight?”
Steve Kerr thought a bit before answering.
“Hard to call. I’d say around 25. The Bobcats defend well, and their big men can move. I think it won’t be a cakewalk.”
...
Tip-off.
Lin Yi went up against Miličić and, with ease, tapped the ball to secure the first possession for New York. Courtside, Darko’s sister, Tijana, was on her feet—cheering for both her brother and Lin Yi. A true dichotomy.
Worth noting, Charlotte still had Kwame Brown on the bench. Although his career at the Washington Wizards, he was averaging eight points and seven rebounds. Not bad for someone so often written off.
On New York’s first trip down, Diaw squared up to stop Lin Yi’s drive—but that was wishful thinking. Lin Yi slipped past with a Eurostep, a move straight out of Manu Ginóbili’s highlight reel. Years from now, they’d look back and say: That move again. Man, it still gets me.
2-0, Knicks.
Charlotte answered quickly—Stephen Jackson pulling up from deep and draining it. 2–3.
On the next Knicks possession, Lin Yi and Billups ran a high pick-and-roll. Diaw, already frustrated, sagged under the screen, only to watch Lin Yi rise into a clean midrange jumper.
Swish.
Four points in quick succession for Lin Yi.
Truth be told, the Bobcats weren’t weak—Wallace was a menace, Jackson could get hot, and their frontcourt could bang with anyone. But what they lacked was structure. Their offense had flashes but no spine.
Augustin probed into the paint, kicked to Diaw, who bricked a midrange shot. Darko fought through Tyson Chandler’s box-out, tipped it in. 4–5.
“Good job, brother!” Tijana yelled from her seat, standing up to clap for Darko.
"Let's go Bobcats!"
"Let's go Bobcats!"
"Let's go Bobcats!"
“Miličić has improved this season,” Kerr observed.
Marv nodded.
Next trip down, Lin Yi noticed something odd—Darko was now guarding him. No switch, no accident.
Just moments earlier, after his putback, Darko had turned to Diaw.
“Boris, let me take Lin,” he’d said.
Diaw blinked. This wasn’t like Darko—usually quiet, rarely asking for assignments. Something was different tonight. Seeing the determination in Darko’s eyes, Diaw just patted his shoulder. “Alright, Dakota. Go for it.”
Darko drew in a deep breath. If his early years had been about dreaming, now was the moment to wake up. He’d watched Lin Yi from afar—how he carried himself in big games, how he showed leadership like the Spurs, poise like the Celtics, fire like the Heat.
I know I can’t match you at your best, Darko thought. But here, tonight, I’m not backing down.
Tijana saw it in her brother’s stance—the way he squared up, chin set, eyes locked. She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She cleaned her tears before shouting:
"Defense! Defense!"
...
Miličić crouched low, his stance wide and steady, eyes fixed on Lin Yi. Billups had cleared the side, giving Lin a perfect one-on-one isolation lane. The ball found Lin’s hands, and immediately the building seemed to hold its breath.
Every dribble felt amplified—thump, thump—like each bounce pressed on the collective heartbeat of the arena. Lin’s handle was smooth, almost hypnotic. He shifted his weight like a butterfly weaving through blossoms, feinting left, gliding right, each motion blurring the line between illusion and intent.
For a split second, Miličić lost his focus—just a fraction of a beat, but against Lin Yi, that was enough. Lin rose into his jumper, and to his credit, Darko still lunged with everything he had.
Marv Albert: "Here’s Lin Yi, one-on-one with Miličić…and… yes! And it counts!"
Swish.
Steve Kerr: "Darko actually played that perfectly—stayed low, contested without fouling—but Lin Yi just makes a ridiculous shot. That’s what makes him so tough; he’s 7 feet, but he plays like a guard."
Boris Diaw ambled over to give Miličić a pat on the shoulder, expecting to console him after getting scored on. Instead, he found Darko’s expression lit with… excitement? That threw Diaw off.
What he didn’t know was that, for Miličić, Lin Yi wasn’t just another opponent—he was a mirror. Playing against him reminded Darko of everything he’d once dreamed of becoming, and everything he’d fallen short of.
On the next Bobcats possession, Miličić did something unexpected.
He called for the ball at the high post.
Even more unexpected—his teammates listened. Augustin didn’t hesitate, feeding him the pass. Wallace, Jackson, and Diaw all spaced out wide, clearing the lane as if they knew something was about to happen.
While the Charlotte crowd was still replaying Lin Yi’s smooth jumper in their minds, Darko set his feet, surveying the floor.
Marv Albert: "Miličić… spinning, switching hands in midair… yes! And the foul!"
Steve Kerr: "Wow, where has this been hiding? That’s not the tentative Darko we’ve seen in past seasons—that’s a move with conviction. And look at the bench, they’re all standing, they can feel this moment for him."
The whistle cut through the noise.
Eighteen-year-old Darko might have pounded his chest, screamed into the rafters, and demanded Larry Brown take notice. Two years ago, he might have replayed this single highlight in his head for weeks, clinging to it like proof that he belonged.
Immaturity has been replaced by maturity. Arrogance replaced by temperance.
But tonight, there was no roar, no celebration. Just a deep breath.
The free throw was good. The arena erupted—not with mocking nicknames, but with his real one.
“Dar-ko Miličić! Dar-ko Miličić!”
“Dar-ko Miličić! Dar-ko Miličić!”
“Dar-ko Miličić! Dar-ko Miličić!”
Marv Albert: "And listen to this crowd—chanting ‘Darko Miličić’… that’s gotta feel good for him, after everything he’s been through."
Steve Kerr: "Yeah, Marv, you can tell he’s not playing for the highlight reel tonight. That was a statement play, for himself more than anyone. It’s not about proving people wrong—it’s about proving himself right."
The chant rolled like a wave through Time Warner Cable Arena. Tijana's voice was right there in the mix, her hands cupped around her mouth as she called her brother’s name with pride.
Lin Yi, still catching his breath, allowed himself a small smile. He stepped closer and said just loud enough for Darko to hear, “Welcome back.”
Darko clenched his fist in acknowledgment, then returned the smile.
