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Chapter 335: 2011 All Star Weekend End
🕑 Added 2025-09-05 20:41:54 +0000 UTCThis year’s All-Star Game shattered records, and for once, David Stern could sit back with a smile and think, Yes, I backed the right horse in Lin Yi.
Still, a nagging thought lingered in the commissioner’s mind: If this year’s dunk contest was that good… what about next year? Or the one after? How do we follow something that might never be topped?
He chuckled to himself, shaking off the worry. Retirement was right around the corner anyway. Let the next man deal with it. Tonight, all the praise belonged to him—David, lately in an uncharacteristically good mood, Stern.
Lin Yi, meanwhile, had learned his lesson from last year. Instead of staying up answering calls and texts after the dunk contest, he switched his phone off, slept like a rock, and woke up at ten in the morning refreshed and grinning.
The Eastern Conference All-Stars were under the guidance of Mike D’Antoni. At lunch, Lin Yi and his coach-turned-mentor sat side by side, going over little details of the game ahead. For D’Antoni, it was almost like talking shop with family—every question Lin asked, he answered with warmth and patience.
The All-Star Game, as Lin knew, wasn’t life or death. Last year, he’d taken MVP, but that was just the cherry on top of the weekend. To him, tonight was about enjoying the stage. If there was anyone who’d treat it like the Finals, though, it would be Kobe. The Zen Master Phil Jackson was already rubbing his temples in Los Angeles, knowing full well he couldn’t rein Kobe in like last year.
On paper, the East looked stacked, but once you peeled away the names, the truth was clear: four Celtics were just along for the ride. Outside of Lin, the East didn’t have steady shooters in the starting five. By contrast, the West boasted a stronger and more balanced unit, and most analysts were picking them to win for good reason.
Afternoon training had its lighter moments. Everyone made time to chat with Lin—well, everyone except Ray Allen, who still felt awkward after their little talk on day one. Lin brushed it off, though. Fragile egos don’t survive long in the NBA. His easygoing attitude only added to his rising popularity.
Across the headlines, yesterday’s dunk contest was already being called historic. Clips of Lin’s free-throw line dunk were looping endlessly online. Even LeBron, loosening up during practice, tried a few friendly dunk-offs with him. Fans sighed, knowing James would not likely enter the contest. A shame—his power versus Lin’s creativity would have lit up the world.
…
Before tip-off, D’Antoni ran through the plan one last time. James raised his eyebrows; he had expected Lin to be gunning for another All-Star MVP, chasing some sort of weekend grand slam. Instead, D’Antoni had set up James as the focal point of the starters’ attack.
The strategy was simple: after the opening stretch, Wade, Rose, and Lin would rest. James would take over, pushing the pace with transition plays.
Wade had no complaints—his minutes weren’t being cut, and Lin was the type to accept rotations without fuss. Rose, playing in his first All-Star Game, looked a bit disappointed, but D’Antoni reassured him: he’d get plenty of time on the floor.
Later, Lin draped an arm over Rose’s shoulder. “Derrick, you’re lightning out there. Most of their reserves are vets—you’ll burn them. Trust me.”
That talk loosened the tension. Rose wasn’t just playing an exhibition; he was measuring. Chicago had been on the wrong end of New York’s toughness too many times, and Rose wanted to know exactly where the gap lay.
Watching James laser in his focus, vowing to deliver, Shaquille O’Neal narrowed his eyes. Years of experience told him there was more going on here. This might be the Big Diesel’s last All-Star ride, but he still had his instincts. He wasn’t about to take it too seriously, though—his job tonight was to entertain. He knew that when crunch time came, D’Antoni wouldn’t hesitate to park him on the bench.
Shaq turned to Lin with a grin. “Hey, big fella, you’re not trying to steal MVP again, are you?”
Lin shot him a wink. “Shaq, you know me. First, we win the game. The rest… that’ll sort itself out.”
In truth, Lin wasn’t worried about his minutes. The West had veterans on the bench who weren’t about to push the tempo. Sure, Kobe was in full predator mode, Durant was itching to prove himself, and Melo and LeBron had their little rivalry simmering. But the bench? That’s where Lin planned to do his work. With Rose’s speed and Wade’s slashing, he could feast on pick-and-rolls all night long. Why burn himself out in the opening quarters when the real fun would come later?
…
By evening, the Staples Center was buzzing. No, it wasn’t as massive as last year’s football stadium spectacle, but this was Los Angeles—a holy ground of basketball. Celebrities poured in, from Hollywood’s finest to Chinese stars flying in just to witness the spectacle.
The introductions were deafening. Kobe, riding the Lakers’ resurgence, soaked up a roar that shook the rafters.
..
On Chinese television, Yu Jia smiled. “Teacher Su, what’s your take on tonight’s matchup? We’ve got Yao Ming and Shaq jumping center.”
Su Junyang adjusted his glasses, his voice heavy with nostalgia. “This one’s special. For many of these veterans, it could be their final All-Star stage. Every possession carries a bit of farewell.”
..
Yao and Shaq met at midcourt. Lin Yi knew what it meant: their last duel on a stage like this.
When O’Neal stepped out for introductions, second only to Kobe in volume.
The tip-off went Yao’s way. Shaq’s vertical wasn’t what it used to be, and Yao’s reach was impossible to beat. The West wasted no time. Kobe ran a pick-and-roll with Yao and zipped the ball back for a quick bucket.
The East answered with Rose bringing it up and LeBron taking the reins. O’Neal set a pick at the top and rolled, catching James’s pass for a rare three-point attempt. The crowd gasped—but the shot clanged out.
Durant snatched the rebound and flew coast-to-coast, slamming it with one hand, his face a mask of intensity. Clearly, he had something to prove.
After five minutes, Lin and Rose checked out together—still scoreless. Chinese fans watching back home grumbled loudly. They hadn’t tuned in to see their star sitting on the bench.
Lin, however, was calm as ever. He sat back, shared a laugh with Rose, and watched the game unfold. He knew his moment would come.
With Shaquille O’Neal back on the All-Star stage, you knew the entertainment factor was guaranteed. Even in the opening quarter, when Kobe slashed to the rim, O’Neal actually stepped up and tried to defend him. Of course, Kobe being Kobe, he pulled off a slick pull-up jumper, drew the foul, and finished with a stylish three-point play.
Kobe grinned, soaking in the applause. O’Neal, never one to miss a chance at showmanship, barked across the lane as Kobe prepared to shoot the free throw:
“Hey, Kobe! Didn’t you say you’re closest to MJ? Do it with your eyes closed, then!”
Kobe shook his head at first, smiling at the big fella’s antics. The crowd thought he’d ignore it. But then, with a little dramatic pause, he inhaled, shut his eyes, and let the ball fly.
Swish!
The Staples Center erupted. This was Kobe’s house, and for a night like this, he was untouchable.
The fun didn’t stop there. Both O’Neal and Yao Ming took turns showing off a one-man dribbling display, much to the crowd’s delight. Lin Yi, watching from the bench, finally understood why fans seemed more attached to him than to Durant. When Yao started dribbling, not a single Eastern defender bothered challenging him—they just stepped back and let him cook. But when O’Neal wound up for a clumsy one-on-one, Durant instinctively reached in, trying to play it straight.
Shaq spun awkwardly, looking half a step away from a travel, but somehow dropped in the shot. The referee let it go. Staples booed Durant mercilessly, not for bad defense, but for daring to ruin the show.
Kobe wandered over, patted Durant’s shoulder in support, but the Slim Reaper looked genuinely aggrieved. He couldn’t quite grasp it—why did the crowd cheer O’Neal for defending Kobe, but boo him for defending Shaq?
The first quarter ended with a surprise: despite the West’s star-studded lineup and hot start, the East led 47–42. The reason was simple—LeBron James orchestrated the East like a conductor with a baton, while the West looked like a band of soloists. Everyone wanted Kobe to win MVP, but Anthony had his own ambitions, Durant wanted to make his mark as a first-time starter, and of course, Chris Paul wasn’t going to stand around without touching the ball. After all, there’s still only one basketball.
.
When the second quarter tipped off, the East rolled out Lin Yi, Garnett, Pierce, Wade, and Rose.
The West countered with Duncan, Nowitzki, Griffin, Ginóbili, and Deron Williams.
Dwight Howard, who’d subbed in for O’Neal after just six minutes, sat glumly on the bench. Superman was itching to show his strength, but Eastern coach Mike D’Antoni clearly had other ideas. The fans were here for Lin Yi, not Dwight, and Lin had only logged five minutes in the first period.
..
“Lin Yi is finally back,” Yu Jia noted from the broadcast booth. “Looks like D’Antoni’s managing his minutes carefully.”
Coach Su Junyang nodded. “That’s smart. The All-Star Game is just for fun—you don’t want to risk fatigue. The Knicks are chasing their best record in franchise history. D’Antoni’s got bigger priorities than this exhibition.”
..
The fresh Eastern lineup paid dividends immediately. On their first possession, Lin Yi set a bruising screen, freeing Rose to slice through the lane like a blade of wind. With one explosive leap, the Windy City Rose double-clutched and hammered home a dunk that had fans on their feet.
Lin’s screening wasn’t just solid—it was versatile. Unlike Chicago’s bigs, who were limited to mid-range pop-outs, Lin could stretch to the three-point line, forcing defenders to commit. Once Rose had that bit of daylight, the West didn’t stand a chance.
Popovich, coaching the West, squinted from the sideline. He wasn’t too concerned with tactics in a glorified exhibition, but he hadn’t expected D’Antoni to be this crafty with rotations. The Spurs’ boss half-joked by closing his eyes, Zen-master style: I see nothing. I hear nothing. I know nothing.
Meanwhile, Griffin was eager to prove he could shoot from range. Instead, he clanked one, and Lin Yi cleaned up the rebound with a grin. Without hesitation, Lin cocked back and launched a quarterback-style heave. Rose sprinted downcourt like a wide receiver, caught it in stride, and delivered a windmill slam that nearly tore the rim off.
“It feels like they’ve been teammates for years,” Kenny Smith chuckled on commentary. “That connection is special.”
“Lin was born for the All-Star stage,” Barkley added. “Just watching him pass the ball is worth the price of admission.”
Rose was buzzing now. On the next trip down, he returned the favor, dishing out of Duncan’s help defense. Lin stepped into a three at the top of the arc and buried it.
Barkley leaned in again. “Don’t forget—Lin nearly stole the three-point contest last night. If Curry hadn’t been on fire, he’d have walked away with it. The kid’s got range.”
On social media, fans were going wild, christening the duo Death Rose—a combination too fast, too deadly, too stylish to stop.
Five minutes passed in a blur, but in that short span, Lin Yi and Rose piled on 23 points between them. It was absurd. All-Star defenses are notoriously soft, but still—this was domination. Without a specific tactical counter, there was no stopping them.
Popovich called a timeout, the scoreboard glaring 70–54 in the East’s favor. The pre-game favorites were suddenly 16 points down. Out of the break, the West reinserted Kobe, Durant, and Anthony. The East answered with James and Howard.
Howard’s frustration deepened. He ran the floor hard, demanded the ball inside, but his teammates barely looked his way. James, Wade, and Rose all wanted to slash to the rim. Lin Yi, meanwhile, floated outside the arc, spacing perfectly, and every time he slipped free, his teammates rewarded him with the pass.
It was simple math—someone had to stand inside to keep the defense honest. And with Lin Yi cutting, screening, and shooting like a Swiss Army knife, he was the easy choice for touches.
Howard was left to chase rebounds that never came, sulking as the game moved past him.
On the other side, Kobe flipped the switch. Scoring, facilitating, dazzling the crowd—he became the West’s lone beacon. By halftime, the scoreboard read 88–74 to the East. Lin Yi had racked up 20 points in the second quarter alone, plus four assists and four rebounds.
Only then did the crowd realize something remarkable: Lin Yi’s line matched Kobe’s. Both had 20 at the half, but Lin’s came smoother, easier, almost effortless.
Durant’s stat line told the story: 11 points on 4-of-10 shooting. And in Los Angeles, the crowd wasn’t interested. They only had eyes for Kobe.
Lin Yi leaned back on the bench for a moment, watching the sheer level of skill on display. For the first time that night, he genuinely felt a wave of admiration for the players around him.
After halftime, the tempo shifted. The Western Conference came out swinging, their counterattack led by Durant and Anthony. Both players began to find their rhythm, scoring in bunches and closing the gap with their shot-making. But the East had their own monsters—James and Wade responded with relentless drives to the basket, keeping the scoreboard steady.
Lin Yi couldn’t help but smile. So this is what it’s like to have teammates like these?
He had known LeBron and Wade were special, but seeing them operate up close, helping the team was something else entirely.
Still, his mind wandered back to New York. The Knicks’ roster wasn’t like this. They didn’t have multiple superstars to lean on when things got tight. And that reality always pulled Lin Yi back to the same conclusion: when the game truly hit a life-or-death stretch, he would have to be the one to carry them. Not out of arrogance, but because the Knicks were built that way.
The NBA was proving to be tougher as teams were ganging up on him. Height, speed, skill, strength—it was all on another level. But he was not given up, not even by a long shot.
.
By the end of three quarters, Staples Center was buzzing. The scoreboard read 118–109, the West clawing back into the contest.
The fourth quarter was where reputations were made. Lin Yi tightened his shoelaces. This is where it counts. If I want the MVP, it starts now.
D’Antoni signaled his lineup: Lin Yi, James, Wade, Rose, and Joe Johnson. A balanced five, with Lin Yi floating as the key piece to space the floor.
Across the court, Popovich countered with Duncan, Durant, Anthony, Kobe, and Chris Paul.
Yao and O’Neal, the aging giants, had done their entertaining in the earlier quarters. Now, it was time for the closer’s minutes.
The opening possession belonged to the West. Durant pulled up from mid-range over a tight contest—nothing but net. 118–111. Durant was heating up, already with 24 points, second only to Kobe’s tally.
On the other hand, James drove hard, drew a double-team, and kicked the ball out. Lin Yi caught it, but before the rotation closed on him, he snapped a bounce pass inside to Wade. The Flash needed no second invitation—he rose, detonating a one-handed slam that had the crowd roaring.
From the sidelines, O’Neal chuckled to himself. Is Lin Yi… stealing James’ assists?
The big man couldn’t help but notice the stat line developing before his eyes.
The West answered through Anthony, who drilled a three over Joe Johnson and raised an eyebrow toward James. Melo and LeBron had always been friendly rivals, and now they were turning Staples Center into their own personal stage. James grinned, gesturing for the ball on the next trip down. He shoved his way past Anthony, drew contact, and banked in a finish.
122–114, East still on top.
Lin Yi, meanwhile, continued to play connector. He wasn’t dominating possessions, but his fingerprints were everywhere—screening, grabbing boards, making the extra pass. His stat sheet kept ticking upward: rebounds climbing into double digits, scoring efficiently when the ball swung his way.
And that efficiency wasn’t lost on his teammates. After a while, even LeBron seemed to realize Lin hadn’t scored in a stretch. So he fed him twice in quick succession. Both times, Lin Yi sank open threes with ease.
By the closing minutes, it was clear. The West, despite Kobe’s 37 and Durant’s 34, simply couldn’t reel the East back in. The final buzzer rang: 151–141. The Eastern Conference had their win.
James was the first to go down the line, high-fiving everyone. His stat line—26 points, 8 rebounds, 11 assists—looked like MVP material. And for a moment, he thought he had it.
Then Stern walked to the microphone.
“Congratulations to Lin Yi, the 2012 All-Star Game MVP!”
The announcement hit like a thunderclap.
James’ smile froze. Around him, teammates clapped for Lin Yi, but he couldn’t ignore the stat sheet Stern had just read aloud.
36 points. 15 rebounds. 8 assists. 75% shooting.
Lin Yi had played it perfectly—scoring when the game was loose, then cleaning the glass and facilitating once the defense tightened. It was clever. Efficient. And, most importantly, it translated into numbers that voters couldn’t ignore.
On the sidelines, O’Neal was still shaking his head, half laughing. The guy barely looked like he was sweating out there. Everyone else was fighting for the spotlight, and somehow Lin Yi waltzed off with the MVP. That’s brains as much as brawn.
Even Lin Yi himself smiled sheepishly as he held the trophy. He hadn’t come in expecting to steal the night—but sometimes, in basketball, numbers tell the story even better than highlights.
