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Chapter 421: Knicks vs Heat
🕑 Added 2025-10-29 02:38:44 +0000 UTCLeBron James’s career has taken a strange turn lately.
Once the undisputed King of the next vanguard, his reign now seemed dimmed—overshadowed by the rise of Lin Yi.
It wasn’t like LeBron hadn’t tried. That summer, he’d spent countless hours polishing his three-point shot, determined to add another weapon for the next time he faced the Knicks.
Once, his three-pointer was like a scope-less 98K. Now, it had evolved—fitted with a shiny red dot sight.
Of course, Knicks fans had their own spin on it. They swore LeBron’s sudden dedication to shooting was born from fear—traumatized by New York’s barrage of threes last season. And before long, online fanbases were waging a war of their own: LeBron loyalists versus Lin Yi believers.
When Lin saw the arguments flooding social media, all he could do was sigh.
“These fans of ours really are vicious.”
...
October 27th, American Airlines Arena.
Nationally televised. Knicks vs. Heat. The defending champions against the league’s most star-studded trio.
From the tip-off, Miami came out swinging. The squad wasn’t here to play nice—they were here to make a statement.
The crowd was electric. Every defensive stop, every fast break, every dunk from James felt like an explosion.
With 7:38 left in the first quarter, LeBron hammered home a thunderous dunk that shook the rim and the arena.
The place went wild.
Eighteen-game winning streak? So what.
Eighty-six points? Big deal.
This was Miami—home of LeBron, Wade, and Bosh.
Scoreboard: Knicks 4, Heat 15
And for the first time that night, it was the Knicks calling for a timeout.
On the bench, Lin Yi rubbed his chin, expression unreadable.
“They’ve got something tonight,” he muttered after starting 0-for-4 from the field.
As he sat down, Paul gave him a playful shove.
“Lin, you just let LeBron blow by you! What was that?”
Lin shot back immediately.
“You’re one to talk! Did you sneak off for fried chicken again last night? Because your first step looked like Shaq’s out there.”
Paul grinned.
“I was conserving energy.”
Lin nodded solemnly.
“So was I.”
On the sideline, D’Antoni stared at the two of them, torn between laughing and losing his patience.
“Alright, comedians—if you’re done, maybe we can talk about basketball again?”
The Heat’s plan was working. LeBron’s jumper, once unreliable, was now deadly enough that the Knicks couldn’t sag off him anymore.
And the numbers backed it up. Between 2011 and 2018, LeBron’s three-point percentages had hovered between 33 and 40 percent—solid, and occasionally elite. Now, with a cleaner stroke and smarter shot selection, he’d become a real perimeter threat.
Lin Yi had a rough start guarding him. LeBron’s raw power offset Lin’s length and timing. To make things worse, Lin’s usually sharp scoring was a bit shaky tonight.
But basketball isn’t a solo duel—it’s five against five. And the Knicks didn’t need Lin to go full superhero to turn things around.
“The Knicks are in trouble tonight,” Kenny Smith said on TNT. “They’ll need to adjust fast.”
“You’re right, Kenny,” Barkley added. “Defensively, this isn’t enough to beat Miami. They look a step slow.”
Even the usually pro-Knicks network sounded worried. But right after the timeout, the champions reminded everyone why they were on an eighteen-game tear.
Paul, Green, Lin Yi, and Markieff Morris—four straight possessions, four straight threes.
Nothing but net.
LeBron froze. Wade blinked. Bosh just shook his head.
In the blink of an eye, that eleven-point Heat lead was gone.
The arena fell silent. Moments ago, fans were sure they’d end the Knicks’ streak. Two minutes later, they were too stunned to speak.
“Beautiful!” Barkley exclaimed, his tone flipping instantly. “That’s championship basketball right there—precision, confidence, teamwork.”
“Exactly,” Kenny Smith agreed. “Ever since that 86-point game, Lin’s been brimming with confidence. That pull-up three over James? Ice cold.”
Shaq, sitting beside them, blinked at his co-hosts.
“Didn’t you two just say the Knicks were finished?”
Kenny shrugged, deadpan.
“We adapt, big man. That’s called analysis.”
Shaq rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, right. Bandwagon’s got front-row seats tonight.”
It was clear the big man was still a rookie in the commentary game.
Everyone gets proven wrong sometimes—that’s part of the job. The trick isn’t to always be right; it’s to sound confident when you’re right and sound wise when you’re wrong.
In other words, the art of commentary: praise naturally, criticize—no script required.
The young Shaq had just learned another on-air lesson.
Still, he wasn’t entirely wrong in his assessment. Even though the Knicks’ four straight threes had tied the game, this Heat team wasn’t the same as last year’s.
LeBron and Wade had finally learned to breathe in sync. When LeBron was rolling, Wade slipped into a perfect supporting role. When LeBron cooled off, Wade’s midrange rhythm filled the gap like clockwork.
Add in Bosh’s smooth lefty jumper from the elbow, and it was obvious—Miami had evolved.
They’d finally understood what last year’s Finals had taught everyone: against teams like the Knicks or Mavericks, trying to out-defend them was a dead end.
You had to outscore them.
The Heat had done their homework. And just like the future teams that would overthink how to lock down the Warriors, most would eventually face the same harsh truth—this was no longer an era where defense alone could win championships.
Especially not against a team like the Knicks.
When New York got rolling, they could turn a ten-point deficit into a tie game in the blink of an eye. If the Heat couldn’t keep pace offensively, they’d never have a chance to face them in the postseason, let alone beat them.
Swish!
As the first quarter wound down, Paul rose from the wing and drained a cold-blooded three to tie it—33-33.
That was exactly why Lin Yi had pushed for him to come to New York in the first place.
In this new era of superteams, you couldn’t build a dynasty on one man’s shoulders. You needed someone who could steady the ship when your star wasn’t in rhythm.
Lin Yi knew it all too well. His own rise had drawn plenty of attention—and plenty of opposition. The Anti-Lin Alliance had turned every game into a chess match.
That’s why he’d switched positions this season, taking on the small forward role—to evolve, to adapt, to stay one step ahead.
Last year’s Knicks might’ve crumbled in a game like this. LeBron and Wade both firing, Lin’s shot off? That would’ve been trouble.
But this year was different. The roster was deeper, smarter. The only real weakness was time—the younger guys still needed to grow into their roles.
Still, this wasn’t just another regular-season game.
Beating the Heat—or losing to them—always meant something more.
In the NBA, mindset mattered just as much as muscle. And Lin Yi understood that better than anyone.
He couldn’t afford to let LeBron and Wade find confidence against his team. Not even once.
If the Knicks were going to rule the East, they needed to make one thing routine:
Eat, sleep, and beat Miami.
When the second quarter began, Lin Yi returned to the floor with Whiteside, Battier, Klay, and Livingston.
A new look and fresh rhythm.
