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Chapter 232: NBA Eastern Conference Semifinals 2
🕑 Added 2025-07-13 15:44:43 +0000 UTCOn May 4, at TD Garden, the Celtics’ home crowd roared, creating the kind of hostile atmosphere only Boston can. Game 2 of the Eastern Conference semifinals tipped off between the Knicks and Celtics.
“The Knicks dropped Game 1,” Kenny Smith noted on the broadcast. “What do you think their adjustment needs to be tonight, Charles?”
Barkley grunted, shaking his head. “First and foremost, defense. Their defense in Game 1 was nowhere near what you’d expect from a team playing this deep in the postseason. And honestly? If Lin Yi can’t settle in and lead this group, they’re not going far.”
Kenny smirked. “Speaking of Lin, he told reporters before tip that he planned to take more shots tonight. Thoughts?”
Barkley chuckled dryly. “That’s just Lin sending a message, not something you take literally. People called him passive in Game 1. They forgot—this kid’s a member of the 180 club. He can score.”
The starting lineups flashed on screen:
Celtics:
Kendrick Perkins
Kevin Garnett
Paul Pierce
Ray Allen
Rajon Rondo
Knicks:
Lin Yi
David Lee
Danilo Gallinari
Wilson Chandler
Toney Douglas.
Just like in Game 1, Lin Yi won the opening tip with ease, but the Boston faithful showered him with boos. The Knicks went right into their first set, and waiting for Lin at the top of the key was Garnett.
Lin wasn’t fazed. He respected Garnett’s presence, but the veteran’s foot speed wasn’t what it used to be. The challenge was Boston’s defensive scheme — a seamless blend of man and zone that Rivers had tailored specifically for Lin and the Knicks.
Lin called for a pick-and-roll, but not to create a mismatch. His goal was to attack the seams the instant they formed.
David Lee came up to screen. As Lin exploded off the pick, he sliced between Garnett and Perkins with surprising agility. Pierce rotated over to help.
Lin could’ve passed.
But he didn’t.
This was his team. This was his moment.
He leaned into Pierce, absorbed the contact, and flipped the ball in with his left hand.
Bucket.
The Celtics' bench stayed calm. Rivers even looked pleased — this was exactly the kind of tough, contested shot they wanted to force Lin into.
“As long as he’s not getting easy looks, we’ll live,” Rivers muttered.
On the floor, Lin exhaled. “Feels like they’re guarding me like I’m LeBron…” he muttered to himself.
The truth was, the Celtics weren’t just trying to stop Lin. They wanted to grind down everyone around him, to suffocate the Knicks’ rhythm. Lin’s own poor Game 1 had been about nerves. His teammates’ struggles? That was Boston’s defense.
Tonight, Lin was determined to change that.
“That’s what I wanted to see more in Game 1,” Barkley said approvingly. “Strong take, no hesitation. He’s setting the tone.”
On the next possession, Boston came down. Rondo walked the ball up, scanning the floor—only to realize Douglas was sagging way off him, daring him to shoot.
Rondo frowned.
The Knicks weren’t just tougher tonight — they’d come armed with adjustments of their own. Game 2 was shaping up to be a real battle.
...
After the opening skirmish, the Knicks players settled down. Even Rondo, who’d just been swatted at the rim, stayed composed and fed the ball to Pierce for an isolation.
Doc Rivers kept things simple. His philosophy was clear: minimize turnovers and let his veterans go to work. Pierce’s back-down game was still one of Boston’s most reliable half-court weapons.
Pierce leaned into Gallinari, using his strength to shove SBC nearly under the basket. But just as Pierce spun for a layup, Gallinari fouled him hard.
When Pierce walked to the line, chants of “M-V-P!” rained down from the Garden faithful.
Once upon a time, there had been arguments about who the true leader of Boston’s Big Three was. But after his Finals heroics and championship, Celtics fans never doubted. When it mattered most, they trusted Pierce.
As for Garnett, his best years were behind him. The Big Ticket still brought toughness, screens, and midrange jumpers, but the explosiveness was long gone.
Pierce sank both free throws. Tied at 2–2.
The Knicks’ next possession began with Lin Yi orchestrating from the top. He lulled Garnett with a crossover, then pulled up confidently from the elbow.
Swish.
No more awkward bricks tonight.
4–2, Knicks.
On Boston’s next trip, Rondo and Garnett ran a pick-and-roll. Lin chose not to switch, letting Rondo get into the paint — only for Douglas to chase him down from behind and swat his shot out of bounds.
It wasn’t clean, but it prevented an and-one. Playoff basketball doesn’t reward finesse on defense — just results.
Rondo split his free throws. 4–3.
At that moment, Lin caught D’Antoni’s eye from the court and held up two fingers.
D’Antoni nodded. He turned and waved to the bench. Milicic was already warming up.
With just under five minutes gone in the quarter, the Knicks called a timeout. The score was a grind: 9–8.
Both sides were locked in defensively.
On the bench, Lin leaned over to D’Antoni. “Coach, we’ve got four good looks coming next set. Trust me.”
The coach clapped him on the back. “It’s yours to run.”
Then D’Antoni placed his hands firmly on the shoulders of Milicic and Ewing Jr. The two big men looked like soldiers about to be sent into battle.
When play resumed, the arena buzzed with confusion.
Lin Yi… stayed seated?
“What are they doing?” Kenny Smith blurted on the broadcast.
Even Barkley looked stunned. “It’s the playoffs, and they’re already resting him?”
That was exactly the plan.
After Game 1, D’Antoni and Lin had agreed: the Celtics’ bench was vulnerable when Lin was off the floor. So Lin came out early — but burned hot while he was in — to conserve energy and keep pressure on Boston’s rotations later.
But that wasn’t the only surprise D’Antoni had cooked up.
On Boston’s next possession, as Rondo casually brought the ball up, Ewing Jr., newly subbed in, stepped up and hugged him. Hard.
Rondo froze, wide-eyed.
From the sideline, Rivers threw up his hands. “You’re kidding me — hug-a-Rondo? Already?”
Lin and D’Antoni exchanged knowing smirks.
“Not a Shaq attack, Doc. Just… a little hugging,” Lin murmured.
Rondo’s free-throw percentage in the postseason hovered around 50%. Too good an opportunity to pass up.
And if Rivers benched Rondo? Fine — the Knicks would pivot and start fouling Perkins instead, another notoriously poor free-throw shooter.
The Knicks’ intent was simple: disrupt Boston’s rhythm, chew the clock, and steal rest for Lin Yi.
Break the game into fragments. Make the Celtics grind.
Drag. And. Consume.
That was the Knicks’ mission tonight.
...
In the first quarter, Lin Yi got a quick breather, resting for just five minutes.
The Celtics couldn’t capitalize on his absence. The Knicks were quick to pounce whenever Rondo or Perkins had the ball and the momentum shifted.
Rondo was fine—reliable enough from the line to make at least one of two.
But Perkins? Not so much.
Sure, on paper, his playoff free-throw percentage over the past two seasons looked decent—around 65%. Not bad for a big man. But Lin Yi knew better. That number was a bit misleading. Perkins didn’t get to the line much. If you hacked him as much as someone like Dwight Howard, the truth would come out.
And tonight, it did.
Two free throws. Two bricks.
Doc Rivers stood on the sideline, helpless. Doc was the king of halftime speeches, a master motivator. His locker room talks could bring a grown man to tears and fire up a team of veterans like this Celtics squad.
But you can’t speech your way into making a free throw.
Worse still, Rivers was starting to second-guess things. Lin had come out of the gates aggressively, but then sat after just four minutes. It didn’t make sense to Doc.
“What are they doing?” he muttered, scratching his head.
It was like pulling a sexy lady's bikini down only to find there’s no show.
And the Knicks’ unpredictability made it worse. The more they messed with his rhythm, the less Rivers felt comfortable making adjustments. Despite holding the lead, something didn’t sit right. This team—this strange, chaotic Knicks team—wasn’t playing by the rules. If he had his way, he’d avoid them completely in next year’s playoffs.
With two minutes left in the first quarter and the score at 19–24, Lin Yi checked back in.
Milicic and Pat had done their jobs. They fouled hard, stalled the Celtics’ rhythm, and gave no room for comfort. No pressure on them—they knew exactly what they were supposed to do.
“Lin’s back now,” said Kenny Smith on the TNT broadcast. “Charles, the Knicks can’t just rely on hack tactics. Boston’s defense has been solid tonight. The Knicks hit a real scoring drought.”
“Let’s see how they attack now that Lin’s in,” Barkley replied.
New York’s offense wasn’t complicated tonight. It was Lin Yi—one-on-one.
Garnett wasn’t the same player from five years ago. And Lin? He knew it. The plan was simple—grind them down. Attack the legs, the lungs, the pride. And there was no Grandpa Protection Society to step in for Boston’s Big Three.
Before the game, Lin told reporters he would take more shots.
Boston’s defense made it look like they were focusing on Lin, but in reality, their goal was to shut everyone else down.
But Lin wasn’t just floating on the perimeter tonight like he did in Game 1. He’d learned his lesson. Now, he opened the second act with a strong drive, testing Boston’s defensive setup.
You had to admit—it was impressive. Their rotations were tight. No camping in the paint either; there’s a three-second rule. So they couldn’t just plant a big body in the lane and wait.
The Celtics’ help defense worked through smart rotations. But that meant constant lateral movement—and that kind of hustle wears on older legs. Lin wasn’t looking to embarrass them with slick moves. He was looking to drain their stamina.
It was a battle of attrition.
Lin Yi vs. the Big Three.
One against three. That was the Knicks’ game plan tonight.
Lin was back on the floor, toying with Garnett near the arc. KG was intense, focused, and physical. But Lin stayed just out of reach.
Then—boom.
A sudden burst inside. Boston’s defense scrambled. The help was coming. Pierce slid in to cut off the drive, ready to absorb contact.
But Lin didn’t slow down.
A slick head fake with the right hand sold the inside drive. Instead, he curved back out with a behind-the-back dribble, lost Pierce on the switch, stepped out, and drained a clean mid-range jumper.
Swish.
The Garden erupted.
The Knicks' bench was on their feet.
21–24.
Kenny Smith covered his face in disbelief. “Oh my God… is he a center?”
“Man… even some small forwards don’t handle the ball this smoothly,” Barkley muttered, half in awe, half in disbelief. “I swear, I keep waxing lyrical about this kid. The NBA has a gem.”
Even though Boston’s veterans wouldn’t openly admit it, they all felt it. A ripple of unease.
This kid… wasn’t normal.
If he were a guard, fine. Nothing to write home about.
But he was a big man. A 7’0” big man.
On the next possession, Rondo and Garnett ran a pick-and-roll. Rondo, who’d been shaky all night, bricked his first two open jumpers earlier, decided to pass to Garnett.
Brick.
KG clenched his fists after missing his jumper, but stayed locked in. Tonight was a fight.
David Lee hauled down the rebound on the miss and quickly got the ball to Lin.
Lin Yi didn’t waste time. He pushed the ball up, long strides eating up the court. Garnett tried to stay in front, narrowing his eyes, reading his moves. Lin didn’t flinch—he drove right at him, fearless.
Unforgiving.
Lin crashed into the paint, leaning his shoulder into Garnett. KG wound up to swat him, but before the block came, Lin sold the contact perfectly, raising his arms as they brushed.
Whistle.
Garnett landed, turned to the ref in disbelief, and barked.
The ref wasn’t having it. Foul on Garnett.
Lin grinned through the boos of the home crowd and calmly knocked down both free throws.
23–24.
The Knicks were closing the gap.
“Lin’s locked in tonight,” Kenny Smith said from the broadcast table.
Barkley flipped through his stat sheet, eyes widening. “Seven shots already in the first quarter… Wait. Didn’t he say before the game he was gonna take 50 tonight? Don’t tell me he’s serious.”
On Boston’s next possession, they came up empty again. Lin backed down on Garnett at the other end, and KG wanted to body up and battle.
“Come on!” Garnett growled under his breath. “Let’s go!”
Lin cracked a faint smile.
“Nah,” he murmured.
He stepped back, faked the drive, then pulled up for three.
Clang.
The quarter ended with Boston still up 24–23.
When the second quarter began, Lin shared the floor with Harrington, Gallinari, Belinelli, and Lou Williams.
Doc Rivers shuffled his rotation, subbing Perkins for Rasheed Wallace and replacing Ray Allen with rookie Tony Allen, keeping Pierce, Rondo, and Garnett in.
KG glanced toward the bench. He wanted to sit—Lin had been running him ragged already—but Rivers’ fiery speech rang in his ears: “Kevin, you’re our soul. One of the leaders. They can’t beat us if you’re out there.”
So KG pounded his chest, hyping himself up, and stayed in.
Lin just smirked.
First Boston possession, Rondo barely crossed halfcourt before Lin slapped both hands, shouting, “Defense!”
The Knicks’ energy spiked like they’d been shot out of a cannon.
Garnett blinked. Damn. This kid… is vicious.
Next play, KG tried posting up. He still had plenty of strength left, and the two of them wrestled in the paint. KG backed Lin down, spun left, and dropped in a hook.
Lin let out a low whistle. “Man… no wonder they call you the Big Ticket. Ice cold.”
Garnett wiped his brow and shot back, “You’re not bad yourself, rook.”
Somehow, it felt like a moment of mutual respect.
The Knicks came back with Lin again. Kenny counted out loud on the air, “That’s his ninth iso of the night…”
Lin stepped back this time. Garnett lagged just a beat behind. Lin let it fly.
Clang.
Luckily, Harrington beat Wallace to the board and put it back in.
25–26. Knicks down just one.
On the sidelines, Doc could see the Knicks’ game plan.
Give Lin the ball. Let him cook.
But what Doc didn’t fully grasp was the why.
Behind him, Knicks Second Assistant Phil Weber was tracking numbers on his laptop—distance covered.
Pierce, Garnett, Ray Allen… their mileage was piling up. Way above normal. And now even Pierce was starting to jog instead of sprint back on defense.
Those minimal rotations Boston relied on? They came at a cost.
Lin didn’t have to score every trip down. Just keep grinding.
When Rivers burned his second timeout of the quarter, Lin already had 18 shots under his belt, hitting just eleven.
But he was fresh. And Boston’s legs?
Not so much.
The Celtics still led 43–40 when Garnett came off the floor, breathing hard.
One glance from Doc said it all.
Finally, he understood
