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...
If Duncan's the foundation the Spurs are built on…
Then Parker's gas tank decides how far they can go.
And when things hit the fan?
That's when Manu Ginobili comes flying in from the clouds like a damn anime character.
There's even old lines about him that's gone around in fan circles.
...
Five minutes into the fourth, the scoreboard read 79–87. Knicks still up by eight.
But now… now the gloves were off.
Both D'Antoni and Popovich made their final moves. Time for the last hand at the poker table.
The crowd at Madison Square Garden could feel it. The energy changed. You could smell it.
Like two gunslingers stepping into the street. Everything up till now? Just warm-ups.
This? This was the real duel.
The Knicks rolled out their final squad: Lin Yi, David Lee, Gallinari, Chandler, and Lou Williams.
The Spurs answered with their killer lineup: Duncan, Blair, Ginóbili, Parker, and Quentin Richardson.
The Big Three were back on the floor together.
Pop's final gambit.
At this point in the game, especially in the fourth, most of the tactical stuff fades away. You can draw plays, sure. But really, it's about trust. Trust in your stars. Trust in your matchups.
The Knicks had caught their breath. Lin Yi was back in rhythm. So, of course, they went to him.
Interestingly, Pop didn't put Duncan on Lin.
Timmy had already soaked up a ton of minutes, and Pop wasn't about to risk an injury in a regular-season slugfest.
So it was Blair who got the assignment.
Blair, who'd been watching Lin from the bench, had already noticed—this kid was faster than the game tape suggested.
He crouched low, kept his hands up, clearly told: Don't let him drive. If he wants to shoot, let him shoot.
Sometimes, that's the right call.
Sometimes, it's not.
Lin took one look at Blair's positioning, hit a quick hesitation dribble, and saw the space he needed.
One step. Rise. Smooth kick. Hang. Release.
Splash.
79–89. Knicks by ten.
Kenny nearly jumped out of his chair in the commentary booth. "Beautiful! That jumper—textbook stuff from Lin Yi!"
Barkley nodded. "Blair just doesn't have the length to contest it properly. They're worried about him driving, but Lin's release? The wrist, the elevation, the arc… not many guys in the league can pull that off."
MSG exploded. The crowd was on their feet.
"M-V-P! M-V-P!"
They chanted, louder and louder, echoing through the rafters.
Lin Yi didn't say anything.
He just jogged back, eyes locked in, face calm.
At this stage of the game, it's all about one thing—
Who seizes the moment first?
The Spurs came back down the court, looking sharp. Parker initiated, Ginóbili and Duncan set the double screen, and then—boom—the Demon Blade got loose.
Manu twisted Chandler up with those funky Euro steps. Back in the day, he used to blow past defenders with speed. Now? It was all rhythm and misdirection. Like an old-school magician with a new deck of tricks.
Lin Yi rotated over to help, but couldn't stop him in time. Manu laid it in clean.
81–89. Spurs shaved two off.
Lin jogged back, shaking his head and thinking, Man… does Manu have a DLC or something? Is there a patch update for that ankle-breaker move? 'Cause it's stupid effective.
The game kept rolling, back and forth. The Knicks and Spurs were grinding now, possession by possession. Lou Williams came up big with a couple buckets off Lin's feeds, but both teams had tightened the screws. No one wanted to make a mistake.
Cuts stopped. Ball movement slowed. Everyone was locked in.
Popovich wasn't happy. His brow furrowed. He hated the Knicks' rhythm tonight—and the worst part? Even after they cranked up the defense, Lin and Lou were still scoring.
With four minutes left, Pop called a timeout.
"Tim, how you feelin'?" he asked Duncan quietly.
"Good enough," Tim answered. No drama, just business.
Pop nodded. "Alright. You're on Lin the rest of the way."
Blair had the effort, but his wingspan just wasn't cutting it. Pop also subbed in the veteran McDyess for more interior coverage. "If they go inside," he told the squad, "jump the screen early. Don't get caught chasing."
But Pop didn't like what he saw next.
The Knicks swapped David Lee out… and brought in Al Harrington.
Uh-oh.
Sure enough, they went pick-and-pop, but it wasn't Lin and Lee rolling to the rim—it was Lin and Harrington spacing out.
One clean screen, and the Spurs' bigs lagged.
Boom—Harrington pulls up. Bang.
Three.
MSG exploded.
Next possession, same setup.
Another wide-open three.
Splash.
Now it was 88-98, Knicks by 10, just over two minutes left.
Pop didn't need a stat sheet. He knew it already.
This one's done.
Unless Manu could suddenly pull off a McGrady-style miracle—35 seconds, 13 points—that kind of fantasy ending… yeah, that wasn't happening tonight.
Final score: Spurs 94, Knicks 104
When the buzzer sounded, the entire Garden got on their feet.
Standing ovation.
Not just because they won, but because of who they beat.
This wasn't just a random W. The Knicks had been shaky lately, and the media were already spinning the narrative: "The fairytale is fizzling."
Well, tonight?
They shut a whole lot of people up.
"The Knicks really earned this one," Kenny Smith commented in the booth. "The Spurs made them sweat for every bucket. And Lin Yi? New career high."
Charles was already scrolling through the stats. "Thirty-seven minutes… 29 shots… hit 14 of 'em. Two of five from deep, seven of eight at the line. Total? 37 points. Twelve rebounds, four blocks, two assists. And get this, seven offensive rebounds tonight for a player rarely in the paint."
"The guy's everywhere tonight."
"Only two Knicks hit double figures: Lin and Lou Will. Lou had 35 of his own—12-of-27 shooting, three triples, perfect from the line, three boards, three assists."
"Lin and Lou combine for 72 points."
Over on the Spurs side: Duncan had 20-3-4 with three blocks, Manu had 22 with five dimes, and Parker chipped in 19.
But it wasn't enough.
After the game, Pop walked over and gave D'Antoni a quick handshake. No hard feelings.
D'Antoni, for once, looked completely relaxed, like he'd just knocked a piano off his back.
...
The postgame presser
Pop didn't hold back on the praise.
"Kid's a baller," he said about Lin. "He's got that fight in him. I don't know what his ceiling is. But I know one thing—it's high. You look at him right now. He's a rookie. But honestly, compared to Bron's rookie year? Lin's not that far off."
Of course, Pop had a reason for hyping him up.
He wanted his team to hear it. To know: You didn't lose because you were bad tonight. You lost 'cause they were better.
The NBA's a long grind. Every night, somebody's popping off.
Tonight? It was the Knicks.
And Lin Yi?
He wasn't just popping off—he was taking over.
...
"Lin, JRS Voice wants you for an interview," Javier Stanford grinned, clapping him on the back.
"Cool," Lin said, still catching his breath.
This one took everything out of him.
Those old Spurs guys? Still a problem. And they'd be grinding like this for years.
But Lin smiled to himself.
Because tonight?
He won.
...
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