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Chapter 319: Sixers vs Knicks 2
🕑 Added 2025-08-26 17:03:24 +0000 UTC76ers coach Doug Collins finally decided it was time to go all in.
If his team kept playing cautiously, they’d get worn down by the Knicks’ grind-it-out style. He’d seen it before — New York’s formula wasn’t complicated: hang their hat on defense, keep the offense steady, and then wait for the right moment to hit hard. Teams that couldn’t keep pace eventually got swallowed whole.
Collins knew the first crack had to come against the Knicks’ interior — The Tyson-Yi Connection. Break them down inside, and the rest might follow.
“Push the tempo. Attack the gaps. Don’t hesitate — force the issue,” Collins barked, handing the responsibility to Andre Iguodala and Jrue Holiday.
It made sense. Holiday had picked up plenty from Allen Iverson during his brief return to Philly the year before, learning the finer details of attacking off the dribble. Iguodala, when he entered the league, had enough slashing ability to keep defenses honest. Together, they could be Collins’ twin battering rams.
By mid-second quarter, both coaches had rolled their starters back in. The scoreboard read 39-48, Knicks in front by nine.
The Sixers wasted no time testing the plan. Iguodala drove aggressively, forcing Chandler into a foul and heading to the line. He split the free throws, trimming it to eight.
Lin Yi tried to respond but misfired on a jumper, giving Philadelphia a chance to run. Elton Brand grabbed the rebound, quickly passing to Holiday, and the young guard wasted no time crossing half court.
Holiday’s move on Billups was slick — a sharp crossover that had shades of Iverson written all over it. Madison Square Garden buzzed for a second, half in admiration, half in dread.
Instead of driving toward Chandler, Holiday steered himself toward Lin Yi’s side of the paint. A brave choice, considering Lin led the league in blocks that season.
On the surface, Lin didn’t look the part. Broad shoulders, wiry limbs, and that deceptive frame gave opponents the false sense that he was easier to handle than he really was. That illusion had burned more than a few guards who thought they could take him one-on-one.
Holiday, who’d studied Lin’s game, knew better. He’d seen how Lin often baited attackers by shuffling in place, waiting to explode at the right time. It was a trick reminiscent of Marcus Camby, the former Defensive Player of the Year. Knicks fans had been saying all year that Lin’s rim protection wasn’t just numbers — it was game-changing.
But in the heat of the moment, Holiday’s instinct took over. He went up strong.
Lin’s response was immediate. One second, he was grounded, the next he was skying high, swatting Holiday’s layup attempt straight down as if spiking a volleyball.
The Garden erupted. The sound rolled through the arena like thunder.
Chandler was the first to meet Lin Yi, slapping his palm with a grin. “That’s what I’m talking about!”
From the Knicks’ bench, Shaquille O’Neal — who had been surprisingly vocal in his praise for Lin recently- was windmilling a white towel, pumping up the crowd further.
Collins, meanwhile, frowned on the Sixers' sideline. His tactic had looked good in theory, but was now backfiring. With only Jodie Meeks providing reliable outside shooting, the floor spacing collapsed, funneling everything straight toward Lin Yi and Chandler’s waiting arms.
Holiday, rattled, trudged back on defense. His confidence had taken a hit. What started as a promising crossover ended as another highlight in Lin Yi’s growing reel.
“Man… is this what they mean by a basketball nightmare?” he muttered under his breath.
Iguodala tried to steady things, but even he was beginning to feel the squeeze. Every time he carved out space, a bigger shadow loomed. Wolves in front, tigers behind — it felt endless.
Lin Yi, for his part, looked untouchable. His timing was uncanny, his anticipation razor sharp. At moments like this, it felt as if the rim belonged only to him.
And under the Garden lights, as the crowd roared and the Knicks’ momentum grew, it almost looked like Lin Yi was carrying a kind of aura — as if telling every would-be challenger: You can try to climb, but the mountain only gets higher.
..
Coach Doug wasn’t ready to wave the white flag. At the start of the third, he threw Evan Turner back into the mix, hoping the young guard could change the momentum. Turner certainly looked the part on paper — tall, fluid, versatile. But anyone watching tonight could see how far the comparisons really stretched.
“Lin Yi is consuming those shots like Philly cheesesteaks. Could challenge Joey if he wanted,” joked Chuck, watching Lin erase shot after shot.
Kenny bellowed beside him, shaking his head. “Philly has no choice here. They can’t escape that interior wall. No matter who attacks, they’re running into either Chandler or Lin.”
By halftime, Lin Yi was enjoying himself in a way he hadn’t in weeks. Six blocks already — and counting. The 76ers’ relentless drives had given him a steady diet of swats. Still, it wasn’t all easy. Their aggressiveness had also piled up fouls; Chandler already had three before the break.
The scoreboard read 44-58 in favor of New York, but Collins thought he saw a sliver of light. He hated three-point shooting with a passion, so at halftime he doubled down on the same instructions:
“Keep attacking! Keep driving! As long as we keep hammering them inside, eventually it’ll crack. Sooner or later, their bigs will foul out. That’s when we strike.” He ruffled his thinning hair, pacing in front of his players.
The players nodded, but the vibe in the locker room wasn’t conviction — it was desperation.
Anyway, the lead’s gone, Collins thought to himself. So, what’s there to be afraid of?
..
Third quarter. Madison Square Garden was buzzing, fans sensing something special in the air.
Turner, eager to prove his worth, dribbled between his legs, got Gallinari off balance, and drove into the lane. For a split second, it looked promising.
Then came the wall.
“Is the whole 76ers team just lining up to get blocked by me tonight?” Lin Yi muttered under his breath as he extended his long arms.
Smack.
Another dream swatted.
Holiday tried next, leaning into Lin Yi’s chest, hoping to bait a whistle. Nothing came. He flung the ball wildly as the crowd roared, and Lin sent it right back down.
Holiday’s frustration was visible — shoulders slumped, muttering under his breath. He looked less like a point guard leading an offense and more like a man stuck in a nightmare loop.
Meanwhile, Knicks fans were having the time of their lives. Every rejection felt like another course in a never-ending steak buffet. Chants of wanting more blocks were becoming louder and louder.
“Another one!”
“Another one!”
“Another one!”
“Another one!”
Sure, Lin picked up two more fouls in the third. But with Philly serving up block opportunities like appetizers, why would he shy away? Even if he fouled out, he was determined to leave his mark — literally.
..
With just over a minute left in the third, Lou Williams leaned over on the bench, tapping Lance Stephenson on the shoulder.
“Lance… you’re right. Something big’s happening tonight.”
Stephenson blinked, still lost in the energy of the Garden. “I told you so.”
Lou pointed at the stat monitor. “Yeah, yeah. Just one more. One more block. That’s all he needs.”
The Knicks bench was already on its feet. Fans rose in waves, realizing they were on the verge of witnessing history. The Garden didn’t just hum now — it shook.
On the floor, Turner once again took it upon himself. With the stubbornness of a bull on energy drinks, he beat Gallinari cleanly, soaring into the lane, legs coiled, ready for the exclamation dunk.
What Turner didn’t realize was that Gallinari had stepped aside deliberately. It wasn’t laziness — it was calculation. Everyone in the building knew who was really waiting inside.
Lin Yi had been crouching, poised, like a predator timing his strike. As Turner lifted off, Lin launched, meeting him at the summit.
Bang!
The ball ricocheted away violently. The Garden exploded, thousands of voices rising in unison.
“History!” Kenny’s voice cracked through the broadcast.
“Let’s congratulate Lin Yi,” Charles added, almost giddy. “That’s his second career quadruple-double!”
Kenny followed up quickly: “And this is unprecedented — since the NBA began recording full stats, nobody has ever achieved two quadruple-doubles. Tonight, Lin Yi stands alone.”
Turner crouched on the floor, staring at his hands. The dream that once looked so simple — glide, score, shine — had been shattered mid-air.
Above him, Lin Yi didn’t celebrate wildly. He simply raised a fist to the crowd, a quiet nod to the Garden faithful. The roar that answered was deafening.
