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Chapter 202: All Star Weekend End
🕑 Added 2025-06-28 16:04:36 +0000 UTCDoes the Slam Dunk Contest matter?
Well… it depends on who you ask.
In general, maybe not. But the one held in Dallas during this All-Star Weekend? That one mattered—a lot.
Because Lin Yi made history.
He became the first Asian player to win the Slam Dunk Contest, and his four electrifying dunks didn’t just win over the judges—they blew the roof off the arena. Years from now, people will still talk about this night. Lin Yi carved his name into dunk contest lore, and some might even say he’s become a living monument in the event’s history.
...
In the media room, Wu Xiaolei leaned back in her chair and rubbed her temples. Her fingers had been flying across the keyboard for the last hour. The editorial office was in a frenzy—deadlines were approaching fast. The 2010s might be the last golden decade for traditional print media, but Sports Weekly wasn’t going down quietly. They were going all-in, printing a special edition just to cover Lin Yi’s dunk contest victory.
Wu hadn’t been back to China in a while, so she wasn’t sure what the reaction was like there. But here in the U.S., Lin Yi’s popularity was exploding right before her eyes.
Some claimed he had a whole PR team behind him, carefully crafting his image.
Wu Xiaolei scoffed at that.
She’d known Lin Yi for some time.
“This isn’t manufactured,” she muttered. “It’s inevitable.”
From his college days in the NCAA, Lin Yi had stood out. Not just for his stats, but for his style—unique, eye-catching, unpredictable.
When he landed in New York, Knicks fans embraced him instantly. And it didn’t take long before he built his loyal following, powered by one jaw-dropping performance after another.
And now? After this dunk contest?
His popularity was hitting a whole new level.
As she skimmed through the sea of interviews she’d done in the past year, Wu Xiaolei couldn’t help but smile. Covering Lin Yi had taken her from a freelancer to the chief reporter for Sports Weekly. You could say she’d grown alongside him.
In basketball, talent alone doesn’t always carry you. Popularity counts too.
And right now? Lin Yi had both.
Insane, Wu thought, scrolling through sports websites. It seemed like every headline had his name in it.
Nike’s website? Crashing under the traffic.
Everyone was asking when Lin Yi’s Death Series sneakers would drop. How much? What sizes? Where to buy?
Even his logo was trending. It had this sharp, martial arts vibe that fans were eating up.
And the dunk contest highlights? They’d blown up on YouTube overnight.
David Stern was watching it all closely. The NBA Commissioner realized something—he hadn’t even pulled out all the marketing tricks yet, and already Lin Yi was turning basketball into the hottest topic in the country.
This year’s Dallas All-Star Weekend had gone from big to bigger.
Of course, not everyone was on the hype train. Lin Yi’s critics claimed fans were setting the bar too high. They warned that if he ever stumbled, the fall would be brutal.
But even they had to admit: the kid had something special.
Stern, wise as ever, kept the league’s marketing machine in check. Let the moment breathe, he figured. No need to overplay it.
...
That night in Dallas?
Absolute chaos.
After the dunk contest, Lin Yi barely had time to breathe before Curry and Harden dragged him out to celebrate.
There was no escaping it.
“This isn’t Cleveland, man. You’re not hiding tonight,” Curry laughed.
So Lin Yi gave in—one night out with the boys.
Besides, even athletes need to cut loose now and then.
Eventually, Lin Yi and Curry made it back to the hotel early. Curry was getting married next year, so he wasn’t about to risk getting caught in some nightclub mess. Lin Yi had the All-Star Game the next day anyway.
Back in his room, Lin Yi opened the system screen and raised a brow.
“Flashiness value?” he asked aloud.
[Flashiness Value: Enhances the host's natural charisma and flair when playing basketball.]
“Oh, interesting."
"This must have affected his dunk moves since everyone went ballistic."
Wonder if it indirectly caused Taylor to kiss his cheeks, Lin thought.
...
February 14th. Valentine’s Day.
Cowboys Stadium—home of the NFL’s Dallas Cowboys—was ready.
The roof opened. Two helicopters with camera crews hovered in position for aerial shots.
As the largest screen in the world lit up, nearly 100,000 fans cheered in unison.
This was the moment everyone was waiting for:
The 2010 NBA All-Star Game. East vs. West.
Above the arena, the scoreboard—an enormous dual-screen setup—was running at full power.
“This game’s gonna be historic,” Mavericks owner Mark Cuban said, and for once, he wasn’t exaggerating.
The Super Bowl the week before had delivered big.
This was the NBA's turn to light up Dallas.
Especially after Lin Yi’s dunk contest shook the league to its core, that alone had broken overseas ratings records.
David Stern sat back and smiled.
He had built this league with his own hands—and now, he was watching a new star rise.
...
And then came the introductions.
The stadium dimmed. Spotlights whirled. Usher's live performance lit up the crowd.
As the final note hit, the Eastern Conference All-Stars began their entrance.
First came the bench players: Rondo, Rose, Pierce, Howard, Bosh, Wallace, David Lee…
The crowd clapped politely.
But the real show was about to begin.
The starters rose dramatically from the center stage on elevators.
“From Miami… Dwyane Wade!”
The cheers erupted.
Even Rondo and Rose looked on with envy. That’s what stardom felt like.
Next came Joe Johnson. Solid applause.
Then Garnett. The man walked out, beating his chest like a warrior. Even his teammates stared. That kind of swagger? Impeccable.
And then—
“He’s your new Dunk Champion! The Reaper from the East! The King of New York. Mr. Showtime!”
“LIIIIIIN—YIIIIIIII!!!”
The second his name echoed through the stadium, the place exploded.
Fans, led by a die-hard girl in the front row, started chanting:
“LIN YI!, LIN YI!, LIN YI!”
Rondo blinked. Rose raised an eyebrow. Even Wade was caught off guard.
Howard: “...well, damn.”
And when LeBron made his entrance next?
He smiled widely, waved to the crowd, soaking it in…
But something felt off.
“Wait,” he muttered, “Are they… still chanting Lin Yi’s name?”
LeBron shook his head while smiling.
Cuban sat courtside, slack-jawed. “What the hell?! This is our arena!”
He glanced at the crowd.
“They’re supposed to save that for Dirk!”
The truth?
Dallas fans were still riding the high from last night’s dunk contest. Lin Yi had owned that stage. In their hearts, this wasn’t an All-Star Game…
This was his show.
The pregame choreography for the East? Completely forgotten. Everyone was too busy chanting.
LeBron looked over at Lin Yi.
“Man,” he grinned, “you’ve got some fanbase.”
But deep down?
He was already preparing. Lin Yi might be a rookie now…
But in time, he’d be the rival to beat.
...
[Hours before the game]
Lin Yi hadn’t slept well at all.
But thanks to his internal body clock—which had zero respect for human exhaustion—he still woke up at 4 a.m. sharp.
The result?
He drifted in and out of sleep until morning, never quite rested, never fully awake.
The morning was reserved for Western All-Star practice, with the Eastern Conference scheduled in the afternoon. Lin Yi figured he’d close his eyes and at least try to get a nap in before heading to the gym.
That plan flatlined by 10 a.m., the moment his phone buzzed.
Taylor Swift.
She wouldn’t be able to catch the All-Star Game—her concert in New York was the next day, and she had to catch a flight that afternoon. But before leaving Dallas, she wanted one last thing:
A shopping trip. With him.
Lin Yi tried to wriggle out of it.
“I’ve got practice later,” he said, hoping that was enough.
Taylor didn’t miss a beat. “Nice try. I checked. Your session’s not till the afternoon.”
Lin Yi: “...”
Right on cue, Curry poked his head into the room like an agent of chaos. “What are you waiting for? Go! Or are you planning to be single till retirement?”
Lin gave him a look. The deadpan kind. If Taylor Swift is my road to romance, I’ll take the scenic route through eternal bachelorhood.
But Taylor wasn’t done.
“Pleaaase,” she said, stretching the word like saltwater taffy. “Just a quick stroll. Friend to friend.”
Lin exhaled. That sigh of a man who knew he’d already lost.
“Alright, alright.”
Curry grinned and mimed a jumper. “Bucket.”
Lin Yi rolled his eyes, grabbed a hoodie, and resigned himself to the field trip.
A couple hours later, Lin was walking through a high-end Dallas mall with Taylor Swift on his arm.
And then, like a plot twist from a sitcom, they ran into Scarlett Johansson.
“Lin!” she said, beaming. “You’ve got a game later, right? And... hey, Taylor.”
She glanced at them. Then smirked.
“So, is this a date?”
Before Lin could even open his mouth, Taylor was already sliding her arm through his.
“Just shopping,” she said, with an innocent smile. “As friends.”
Scarlett raised a brow. “Room for one more?”
Cut to a few minutes later: Lin Yi, two beautiful women, one on each arm, strolling through the mall like he’d walked into a tabloid headline.
Thanks to his height, he kept seeing things he definitely didn’t mean to see.
He wasn’t trying to look. Gravity and perspective were just doing their jobs.
By the time the trip ended, Lin was thoroughly fried—mentally, emotionally, and whatever part of the soul handles social activities.
Sure, the company was stunning. But he hadn’t rested, hadn’t napped, and now it was time for practice.
...
[Present Time]
Cowboys Stadium, Arlington, Texas
Scarlett Johansson was in the stands, cheering.
The All-Star Game was about to begin.
Eastern starters:
Lin Yi
Kevin Garnett
LeBron James
Dwayne Wade
Joe Johnson
Western starters:
Amar'e Stoudemire
Tim Duncan
Dirk Nowitzki
Carmelo Anthony
Steve Nash
Before the game started, LeBron had checked in on him.
“You good? You look like you didn’t sleep.”
Wade chimed in with a grin. “Young man, you gotta learn to pace yourself.”
Lin Yi waved his hands in denial: “It is not what you think.”
Wade and LeBron replied with a smile.
This was standard fare in the Knicks’ locker room. These NBA guys all had slick mouths—and even slicker dating lives.
...
The players lined up for tip-off.
Lin Yi was jumping for the East.
When Duncan and Nowitzki saw Lin step forward, they both quietly took a step back.
Stoudemire moved up.
Stone Buddha and Dirty shared a knowing glance—“You got this.”
Stoudemire’s athleticism wasn’t quite what it used to be after his first major injury, and was running on fumes. Lin Yi still won the tip-off with ease.
Opening possession.
Wade passed it to Lin Yi.
Stoudemire wasn’t playing tight defense. But then Wade started jogging toward Lin Yi like he was setting a screen.
Nash: “???”
Wade wasn’t even trying to hide it.
Lin raised a brow. “D-Wade, put that damn pick-and-roll back in your pocket!”
He said it so loudly that even Barkley cracked up.
“Man, Lin’s got jokes!” Barkley said, laughing.
Kenny Smith cracked up too.
Lin and Wade had planned the whole thing. Originally, LeBron was supposed to do it, but Lin figured there was no way the King would agree to being his screener.
Wade? Wade thought it was hilarious.
Entertainment first. That’s what All-Star Weekend was about.
Right after the fake pick, Lin rose for a quick jumper—swish. First bucket of the game.
The crowd was loving it.
On the other end, the West let Duncan take the first shot. He casually pulled up from three.
Swish*.*
Then Duncan beat his chest like Garnett.
Fans went wild.
Lin Yi blinked. “...These guys are having fun.”
Eastern ball again. The crowd wanted more Lin Yi.
He looked Stoudemire in the eye.
“Amar’e, I’m calling it now—I’m scoring this right in your face.”
Stoudemire: “...”
Channeling Larry Bird, Lin hit another jumper.
Barkley chuckled. “This is the least serious All-Star Game I’ve ever seen.”
All-Star Games had once been fiercely competitive, but in recent years, players usually coasted until the fourth. No one wanted to get hurt. Defense was mostly symbolic.
Lin Yi wasn’t chasing MVP. He just wanted to have fun.
Later in the first, he was subbed out for David Lee.
Lee promptly took a deep three from a ridiculous angle—an idea that he got from a conversation with Lin earlier.
“David,” Lin had said during practice, “can you dunk harder than LeBron or look smoother than Kobe?”
David had awkwardly shaken his head.
“Can you do crossovers like AI?”
Another head shake.
“Then you better find something weird that works.”
David took that to heart and threw up a long three—straight in.
The arena roared with cheers.
When Lin Yi returned in the second quarter, he brought out the big guns. He bounced the ball off the backboard, leapt, grabbed it mid-air, and windmilled it down after swinging it behind his back.
BOOM.
Fans were loving it..
Too bad next year’s All-Star Game was in L.A.—Dallas wouldn’t get a sequel.
In the third quarter, the game turned into a freestyle showcase. No-look passes, elbow dimes, trick shots. Lin Yi and Nash had a whole passing clinic. LeBron and Wade ran their signature lobs.
“They’ve got scary chemistry,” Kenny Smith said.
Barkley nodded. “Off the court and on it—those two are trouble.”
If Lin had been listening, he would’ve added, “Just wait ‘til next season—you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
But jokes aside… things were heating up.
At the end of the third, the score was tied: 117–117.
No more laughs.
The fun was over. It was time to play for real.
LeBron, Wade, and Lin Yi locked in.
On the Western bench, Coach George Karl picked up his clipboard.
Time for a final act.
...
If the fourth quarter of the All-Star Game is close, fans know the stars are finally taking it seriously.
And tonight? This one's headed straight for the wire.
During the break before the fourth, Eastern head coach Stan Van Gundy glanced at Lin Yi, then at Dwight Howard. What a dilemma.
Dwight had barely played. All the attention so far? Stolen by Lin Yi, LeBron, and Wade.
Van Gundy sometimes wanted to tell him: Relax, man. It's an All-Star Game, not the Finals. The Magic front office was probably hoping Dwight barely played—extra rest, fewer risks.
But Dwight… was Dwight. He wanted to prove something—even here. Before flying out to Dallas, the first thing he did when learning Van Gundy was the East's coach? Invite him out to dinner.
A sweet gesture—but Stan knew what it meant.
He wanted more minutes.
And to be fair, Van Gundy trusted Howard. Especially on defense. He was still one of the best rim protectors in the league.
But pulling Lin Yi out? That'd get him roasted alive by fans.
So after hesitating, he leaned over to Lin Yi and asked, "Can you play the four?"
The moment the question left his mouth, he regretted it.
"Coach," Lin, seeing through his ploy, replied, straight-faced. "I can play all five positions."
Van Gundy sighed. Kid, do you have to flex like that?
Still, he went with it. The fourth quarter lineup: Howard, Lin Yi, LeBron, Wade, and Derrick Rose.
Garnett had been chilling for a while, sipping Gatorade and giving Rondo some bench therapy. KG wasn’t pressed. He had bigger things on his mind—like the championship.
The West rolled out Stoudemire, Nowitzki, Durant, Carmelo, and Billups.
Coach George Karl wasn’t gambling—he trusted Billups at crunch time. Solid D, a reliable jumper, and great chemistry with Melo.
Durant had played heavy minutes already. Most of the Western forwards were older and coasting. But at home in Dallas, Dirk had to play.
...
The fourth started with an energy shift. Defense turned up. Fast breaks stopped. Players dug in.
And early on, the West had the edge.
Their spacing was better. Four guys could shoot. Melo thrived in the mid-range, and he and Billups ran smooth pick-and-rolls.
Watching from the floor, Lin Yi couldn’t help but think: The league might forget Billups, but this guy’s still a killer.
If the Knicks wanted to chase a title in the future, someone with a playstyle like Billups could be the key.
The East wasn’t clicking. Howard clogged the paint. Lin and LeBron tried to improvise. Lin floated to the perimeter to space out, but with Rose, Wade, and LeBron all needing the ball, things got messy.
"Stan’s being a bit stubborn, huh?" Barkley quipped.
"If the East keeps running into each other like this, it’s a wrap," Kenny Smith added.
Van Gundy knew it, too. The fans' murmurs weren’t subtle. Howard’s screens weren’t sharp, and he kept diving blindly into the lane.
Six minutes into the fourth, Van Gundy made the call.
Howard out. David Lee in.
Rose out. Joe Johnson in.
Wade moved to point guard.
Van Gundy sighed. Fine. I’m putting in Lin Yi’s teammate. If this doesn’t work, blame the basketball gods.
But fate had a different plan.
Joe Johnson spaced the floor.
David Lee opened the paint.
Lin Yi got to set screens again. Wade found seams. Even LeBron looked more relaxed, cutting and curling off Lin’s picks.
Suddenly, the East was humming.
Three minutes to go: West leads 135–133.
George Karl called a timeout. Dirk sat. Deron Williams came in. They went double-guard, pushing Anthony to power forward.
LeBron hesitated. He and his agent had initially crossed New York off the list—Lin Yi's star was just too bright.
But now? LeBron was thinking: Maybe there's something here.
Back in Cleveland, he wasn’t sure about the Cavs’ direction. Big Z was aging. Shaq was... not that fit.
He couldn’t run that triangle like Kobe, who could iso from anywhere. He wasn’t Wade, who paired perfectly with a mobile big.
LeBron needed something else.
And Lin Yi? He might just be that something.
Van Gundy didn't care about any of that. The new lineup was working. If Dwight was upset, he could buy him marshmallows back in Orlando.
Timeout over. As the teams prepped to sub back in, David Lee leaned over.
"Lin, if we win this, you might get MVP."
Lin blinked. "What?"
He hadn't been chasing anything. He’d passed more than he shot.
But… 18 points, 14 rebounds, 16 assists.
Triple-double.
LeBron had 24 points. Wade had 20. But Lin led in everything else.
Fate’s funny like that.
...
The last three minutes.
Lin didn’t think about the MVP. He just played.
LeBron and Wade drew all the heat. Lin found the cracks.
Six straight points.
East up, 139–135.
Scarlett Johansson jumped to her feet in the stands. Durant answered with two threes.
West retook the lead: 141–139.
Thirty-seven seconds left.
Anthony iso’d and missed. Lin grabbed the rebound.
Timeout, East.
Cowboys Stadium buzzed like a hive. Who would take the last shot?
Answer: LeBron James.
Lin Yi might’ve had the numbers, but LeBron was still the King.
Van Gundy nodded. “Go get it.”
The broadcast zoomed in on LeBron’s face.
The crowd held its breath.
Inbound to James. High left. Durant guarding. Long arms, tight stance. James hesitated.
Then Lin Yi floated over. High pick.
LeBron exploded off it, got inside the arc—but Anthony rotated over, cutting him off.
LeBron was airborne... but off balance.
He could shoot. Maybe.
But something—trust, and instinct—made him swing the ball out.
To Lin Yi.
Wide open. Top of the arc. Two steps behind the line.
Two seconds left.
Barkley said. “Stan Van Gundy is a genius!”
Van Gundy on the sideline was all professional, going with the flow.
Lin Yi caught, planted, rose.
He let it fly. Wrist snap. Arc perfect.
Then turned around before it even dropped.
Swish!
The Cowboy Stadium erupted.
BOOM!
“Lin just killed the West!” Barkley shouted.
Even David Stern froze. The commissioner blinked, squinting at the stats sheet in disbelief.
Was this real?
Was this the script?
Nope.
Lin Yi’s miracle three had just sealed the deal.
On the court, LeBron tackled him in celebration. Wade joined the pile-on. The Eastern bench rushed in, all joy and chaos.
It might’ve been an exhibition, but a buzzer-beater was still a buzzer-beater.
And James? He stood back a little after the celebration, soaking it in.
This is what Jordan felt like in ‘97, he thought. Except… I passed the ball.
That’s the beauty of an assist. If the shot misses, people say, Why didn’t LeBron take it himself?
But if it goes in?
Look at that unselfishness. Such poise. What a leader.
Meanwhile, the Western All-Stars looked like they’d been punched in the gut.
Durant, in particular, just stood there. Stunned.
He’d done everything right. And still... that shot went in.
This whole night?
It felt scripted for Lin Yi.
He’d won the dunk contest with three ridiculous slams.
Dominated the game as a rookie.
Now? Most likely All-Star MVP trophy.
As a rookie.
Joining the ranks of Magic Johnson and, yes, Wilt Chamberlain.
Even the last shot—turnaround, high-arcing three from Steph Curry range—was so cinematic.
Kobe, watching from the sidelines, shook his head slowly. The media swarmed him postgame.
“Kid’s cold,” he said. “He’s got that Mamba instinct. That last shot? No flinch. That’s real.”
...
In the stadium, fans still hadn’t settled down.
From goofy fun to full-blown thriller, the game had flipped hard. And Lin’s game-winner? That was the exclamation point.
Even Chinese fans watching from across the globe were buzzing. On CCTV, the commentators were briefly speechless.
Then Yang Yi chimed in:
“ Lin Yi might really take MVP.”
And suddenly, millions of fans sat a little straighter.
LeBron had 24 points. Wade had 20.
But Lin had the full package: 27 points, 15 boards, 16 assists.
When Stern finally stepped onto center court and announced the All-Star MVP, the Cowboys Stadium roared.
“MVP...!”
“MVP...!”
“MVP...!”
Another home crowd mutiny. No one cared. The moment belonged to Lin.
He stepped up to accept the trophy, stunned.
Lin blinked under the spotlight, then looked up.
The sky over Dallas was still dark.
Is this what fate looks like?
The host passed him the mic. “Lin, anything you want to say?”
Lin rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, honestly, I don’t think I even played that well—”
Ahem. Stern cleared his throat behind him. A warning.
Right. Don’t downplay it. This is marketing.
Lin straightened up. “But, this is the game I dreamed of. We played at a high level. I think I was pretty perfect tonight. Trained last night for this moment. Plus, it is also nice to have great teammates who helped me achieve something only two people in this sport have done.”
He shot Stern a look. Is that good enough?
Stern gave a subtle nod.
The host looked shocked. “You trained... last night?”
LeBron turned to him with raised eyebrows. Kobe gave an approving nod.
He just grinned and held up the trophy.
...
Postgame, Curry wandered over. “Can I hold it?”
Lin shrugged. “Sure.” He tossed the MVP trophy into Steph’s hands like it was a Gatorade bottle.
Curry stared at it, awe in his eyes. “Man...”
“Congrats, Lin!” Scarlett Johansson’s voice rang out as she jogged over. Her throat was raspy, cheering too hard. Her chest was still heaving a little.
Lin leaned down and gave her a quick hug, smiling sheepishly. He’d seen Harden eyeing Shakira during halftime—he knew what that kind of attention looked like.
Across the court, Durant slumped, reflective.
“I should’ve trained again last night,” he muttered.
Westbrook clapped him on the back. “Kev, it’s one game. You’ll get yours. Mr. Bryant was right—opportunity finds the prepared.”
Durant nodded slowly. “Thanks, Russ. Next time, we’re ready.”
Westbrook smiled. “We’ll win it all. Not one title... not two, not three...”
Durant laughed. “Okay, let’s not jinx it.”
The two bumped fists. “Forever, bro,” Durant said.
“Forever,” Westbrook echoed.
...
On the other end, LeBron glanced at Wade.
“D-Wade...”
Wade met his eyes, smirking. “Next year. Miami.”
LeBron smiled. “We’ll talk.”
Back in the tunnel, Curry reluctantly handed the trophy back to Lin Yi.
“My God, man. This is the All-Star Game MVP.”
Lin took it casually. “Stephen, it’s not a championship.”
That line stuck with Curry. This guy... he’s different.
Too bad New York and Orlando were so far apart.
...
That night?
Pure chaos.
Lin Yi’s MVP win trended on every platform. Chinese social media exploded. Even a big celebrity scandal got buried under the headlines.
Weibo crashed under the traffic.
Lin?
He couldn’t sleep again.
Valentine’s Day.
He tried calling up his rookie crew.
Curry: “Ayesha.”
Harden: “I’ve got a club thing.”
Flynn: “Date with my girl.”
DeRozan: “Heading out with James.”
Lin Yi: “...I hate Valentine’s Day.”
...
February 15. Lin flew back to New York with David Lee, Gallinari, and Coach Dan.
“Welcome back, MVP,” D’Antoni grinned.
All-Star Weekend was over.
And in the eyes of Knicks fans?
Now, the real war begins.
Thirty-two games left.
Comments
GRANDMAESTA_30
He was feeling it but didn't want to rush to date Olsen and then this happened.
Ju
Why isn't he with Lizzie ?
