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Chapter 328: 15 Wins In A Row
🕑 Added 2025-08-31 12:39:22 +0000 UTCBlake Griffin was a man chasing a dream.
After Lin Yi had dragged a last-place Knicks team all the way to third in the Eastern Conference the season before, Griffin felt that his own rookie year couldn’t just be about big numbers on the stat sheet—he needed wins to go with them.
The Clippers’ front office believed the same. After all, they had already traded their 2011 first-round pick to the Knicks. Every extra win for Los Angeles meant the Knicks’ draft pick would slide lower, hurting New York’s chances. That was the hope, anyway.
But reality had been brutal.
Why can’t I win? Griffin asked himself again and again.
The numbers were there, averaging 24 points a night. Solid rookie stats by any standard. Many Clippers fans even argued that, purely from a statistical perspective, Griffin wasn’t that far behind Lin Yi’s sensational debut campaign.
And yet… the losses piled up. The gap between impact and influence was starting to show.
On one particularly rough night, after the Clippers were demolished by over thirty points, Griffin swallowed his pride and called Lin Yi for advice. He needed answers.
What he got instead was a sentence that stuck with him.
“Blake,” Lin said calmly, “some people don’t become leaders just because they’re great. They’re great because they’re leaders.”
Griffin stared at his phone afterward in silence. Those words stung more than the loss.
That evening, in his apartment, Griffin sat on the couch, rubbing the head of his morose Shiba-Inu. The silly dog had tried to challenge the neighbor’s Alaskan husky just days earlier and had been soundly outclassed. Griffin groaned and scratched his hair. “You really think you’re built for that fight, huh? You and me pretty much the same.”
..
The Clippers were enduring another nightmare: an 85-120 thumping. The Knicks played with relentless energy, feeding off the crowd, refusing to let up even with the game long decided.
For Lin Yi, though, the highlight of the night was seeing Danny Green’s steady growth. The guy was becoming a genuine weapon.
Green only played 14 minutes, but he knocked down all five of his three-pointers, finishing with 15 points on perfect shooting.
By comparison, Griffin’s 20 points and 10 rebounds looked hollow. In games like this, leadership weighed more than box score lines—and tonight made the difference clear for everyone watching.
As the final buzzer sounded, Lin Yi walked over to Griffin, who already looked beaten down by the loss.
“Blake,” Lin said warmly, “the All-Star weekend’s coming up in L.A. How’s the dunk contest prep going?”
Griffin let out a breath, forcing a grin. “Not bad. I’ve been working on some stuff. I think I’ve got a few perfect-score dunks in me.”
When it came to dunks, Griffin wasn’t exaggerating. It was his territory, his edge over Lin, he believed.
“Really? I’m curious to see what you’ve cooked up.” Lin tilted his head with a smirk. “But Blake… just to be clear—you’re dunking, right? Not just trying to smash the rim into dust?”
Griffin chuckled, his face turning red. “Relax, man. They’re dunks. Actual dunks. I promise.”
“Good,” Lin said, patting him on the shoulder. “Because with JaVale McGee entering too, second place is already locked up.”
Griffin stared blankly for a second. “…You’re impossible.”
..
As Griffin was about to leave the Garden, shoulders slumped, fate decided to throw him a distraction.
A tall blonde girl from the courtside seats stepped toward him, flashing a bright smile.
“Hi, I’m Kendall Jenner,” she said, holding out a pen and playfully tilting her head. “Could I get your autograph? I really love the way you play.”
Griffin froze for a moment—then noticed the smile, the confidence. She was young, but already striking.
Blushing, he nodded and signed. With her jacket left in the car, Kendall handed him her skirt to scribble on, which only made his ears burn brighter.
“Thanks!” she beamed, sliding him a small card. “Here’s my number. Call me sometime.” She gave him a quick wink before walking away.
Griffin blinked. He shook his head. She seemed like a minor and didn’t want trouble in his rookie season.
What he didn’t know, of course, was the weight that name—Jenner—would someday carry.
And had Lin Yi seen the exchange, he would’ve shaken his head. Fate had a strange sense of humor.
Kendall, meanwhile, walked away with a sly smile. “My sisters are all chasing shadows. But if I can build a bridge through Griffin, maybe I’ll finally catch Lin Yi’s attention…”
She pouted slightly. She had been to the Garden before, always hoping Lin might notice her, but he never so much as glanced her way.
Principles, after all, defined Lin Yi. And as the league’s most disciplined defender, he had no interest in lowering his guard. Let others fall into the traps—they weren’t his concern.
...
Marbury’s debut couldn’t have gone much better. He looked comfortable on the floor, kept the offense steady, and even found a rhythm with the second unit. The media, so often unforgiving in the past, had already softened their tone. Headlines that once tore him down now cautiously praised his composure.
For Marbury, though, it wasn’t about winning over columnists. He knew this return to New York wouldn’t last forever. Every minute in a Knicks jersey felt borrowed, and because of that, he cherished each possession, each huddle, and each cheer that filtered down from Madison Square Garden.
Inside the locker room, things grew warmer by the day. Teammates who had once greeted him with polite nods now joked with him, slapped him on the shoulder, and shared stories. Marbury, in turn, was fascinated by the culture that had developed in this Knicks team. Unlike the pressure-cooker environments he had endured before, this group carried a strange mix of relaxation and intensity.
They joked, they laughed, but when the whistle blew, they went to war. It puzzled him at first, but slowly, he began to understand: this joy was part of their edge.
The good mood carried into February 11th, when the Knicks traveled across the river to face the New Jersey Nets.
The Nets were counting down the days until their move to Brooklyn, but for now, they remained in Newark—and the gap between them and their Manhattan rivals was wider than ever. Since Lin Yi’s arrival, the Knicks had surged into the spotlight, while the Nets seemed to fade further into irrelevance.
On the court, Kris Humphries threw himself into the task of defending Lin Yi. He leaned on him, bumped him, and chased him all night. Humphries’ energy was admirable, but the Knicks’ depth proved overwhelming.
Gallinari found his shooting touch, draining 5 of 8 threes on his way to 24 points and 6 rebounds. Danny Green, playing like a man possessed, knocked down all four of his three-point attempts—his second straight perfect night from deep. Wilson Chandler added flair with fast-break dunks, racking up 13 points.
And then there was Louis Williams. On this night, Lou looked unstoppable, hitting 10 of 13 from the field, including 4 of 5 from beyond the arc, finishing with 28 points. Every time the Nets thought they’d closed a gap, Williams splashed another jumper in their faces.
Even Marbury chipped in with quiet steadiness—5 points, 6 assists in just 16 minutes. It wasn’t flashy, but it was exactly what the Knicks needed. A stabilizing hand, a reminder that basketball didn’t always have to be a storm.
By the end of the night, the Knicks had handled the Nets comfortably, stretching their winning streak to 15 games. In doing so, they joined rare company—becoming only the fourth team in NBA history to notch two separate 15-game streaks in the same season.
New York was buzzing. Social media was filled with talk of destiny, of banners, of Madison Square Garden finally hosting a contender again. For Lin Yi, the hype was flattering, but he knew it for what it was: a wave. And waves always crash.
That’s the truth about the NBA. Fans fall in love with the underdog, but once that team climbs too high, it becomes everyone’s target. Dynasties, he reminded himself, are not built on affection—they’re built on surviving the hostility of the entire league.
Still, there was no denying the momentum.
Another perk of playing the Nets away? No plane ride. The Knicks could sleep in their own beds, enjoy two rare off-days, and prepare for what truly mattered next.
Because looming on the schedule was a clash that meant more than most: the Miami Heat.
The Heat, despite their superstar trio, were wobbling again. They had brought in veteran center Erick Dampier—once touted as the best big man in the West—but the results had been anything but inspiring. In seven games as a starter, the Heat had lost five.
For the Knicks, the opportunity was obvious. Beat Miami again, and sweep the season series. Do that, and the psychological edge heading into the playoffs would be massive.
The talk in the locker room was lighthearted, but the message was clear. Every player understood what was at stake. Miami wasn’t just another game.
Their eyes were already fixed on South Beach.
The Knicks were ready.
And their aim was locked squarely on the Heat.
