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Chapter 162: Spurs vs Knicks
🕑 Added 2025-06-02 15:07:55 +0000 UTC“Oof… the Spurs’ starting lineup tonight is kinda wild,” Zhang Lixin muttered as he looked over the names.
Yu Jia leaned in, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, Popovich is not pulling any punches. The man has got guts.”
Spurs starting five:
Tim Duncan
Jason Richardson
Roger Mason
George Hill
Tony Parker
Knicks:
Lin Yi
David Lee
Gallinari
Chandler
Toney Douglas.
D’Antoni glanced at the Spurs’ lineup from the sideline, clearly noticing something off. Popo had pushed Mason into the starting unit and bumped Richardson all the way to power forward. That was… bold, to say the least.
This wasn’t some random dude either—Roger Mason was a legit shooter. Back in '08–’09, he knocked down threes at over 42%. Popovich didn’t just pick him out of a hat.
Nah—he had a plan.
After diving into the Knicks’ game tape, Coach Pop spotted a pattern: Lin Yi was most vulnerable against small-ball lineups that played fast and stayed wide.
So tonight? The Spurs were going small and speedy. No safety net.
“They’re worried about Lin Yi,” Zhang Lixin said. “That’s why they’re pulling this stunt.”
Yu Jia nodded. “Yeah, Popovich is throwing in someone unexpected. Let’s see if the Knicks bite.”
...
Tip-off.
Both teams were lined up and ready to go. Tim Duncan walked up to center court to face Lin Yi for the jump.
Well, face might be generous.
As soon as the ref tossed the ball, Duncan didn’t even try. Just glanced up, half-heartedly raised an arm, then strolled back to his side like, This ain’t worth my knees.
“…Huh?” Lin Yi blinked, surprised as he jogged into Spurs territory after laying off the ball.
He figured Mason would start, but maybe Richardson would guard him?
Wrong.
Guess who was standing in front of him?
Tim Duncan.
No gimmicks. No fake zones. No smoke and mirrors.
Just the Stone Buddha himself.
D’Antoni on the sideline, shot a quick glance at Popovich.
Back in the day when he coached the Suns, D’Antoni never could crack the Spurs' rotations.
The Knicks crowd roared. This wasn’t just some throwaway game. If Lin had dunked on a bunch of second-stringers before, tonight was different.
Tonight, he was up against the guy.
The NBA’s finest power forward in this era. The Big Fundamental. Some say the greatest to ever play that spot.
Sure, Duncan was 33 now, but don’t let that fool you.
Lin Yi wasn’t buying the old vet label.
Please—this guy still had like nth seasons ahead of him. He was gonna keep handing out basketball lessons deep into his thirties. Old? Stop it.
The Knicks knew what time it was, too. Toney Douglas passed Lin the ball, then peaced out of the way real quick.
No one wanted that smoke.
Was Coach Pop scared?
Please.
If he could take on LeBron, why would he blink at a rookie?
Popovich had zero intention of anything fancy on defense. No double teams. No traps.
Duncan’s guarding you straight up.
You sub out?
Duncan subs out, too.
Big vs. Big.
Star vs. Star.
That was the whole game plan.
Keep it simple. Match the Knicks’ pace. Shrink the floor. Let Lin Yi cook if he wants—but cut off everyone else. Make it a solo show.
Even if Lin drops 40, but the rest of the team’s silent, the Knicks ain’t winning.
Who else is gonna save them? David Lee? Gallo? Harrington? Lou Williams? Belinelli?
Nah.
The Old Man was all in. He had Duncan. He had Parker. And if things got wild?
There was always Ginobili waiting to check in.
There’s a classic joke among NBA fans:
The three biggest lies in the league?
The Spurs are old, the Mavericks are weak, and the Rockets are strong.
And honestly? As long as Duncan’s still lacing up, the Spurs are never to be counted out. No matter what year it is, if they’ve got Timmy, they’re in the title conversation.
Sure, they got hit with injuries in ‘09, but don’t get it twisted—that storm’s passed. This current Spurs team? Healthy, hungry, and dangerous.
Back in MSG, the crowd was electric. But amidst all the noise, Lin Yi was locked in, already piecing together the Spurs’ game plan.
He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah... Starting next season, we gotta start thinking about breaking this team apart.”
One Danny Green wasn’t enough to shake the future Spurs. But Kawhi? That was a different story. Lin Yi made a quiet vow: Do whatever it takes to keep them from landing Leonard.
But that was tomorrow’s problem. Right now, he had another one—Tim Duncan.
Duncan wasn’t just standing there. He was waiting. Watching.
Lin Yi shifted to his left at a 45-degree angle. Duncan didn’t even blink.
Thump. Thump. Thump. The ball bounced in Lin’s hands. Still, nothing from Duncan.
He faked a jab step, swung the ball with an exaggerated motion that made even the sideline flinch.
Still, Duncan didn’t bite.
Man, Popovich thought from the bench, watching Lin’s footwork, what if this kid were on the Spurs?
Finally, Lin drove hard left. That’s when Duncan moved. Just a single, calculated step. That’s all he needed. He wasn’t trying to stick to Lin like glue. He just wanted to slow him down, make him work.
Make him think.
There was no suffocating pressure like what you’d get from LeBron. But somehow, it felt like Duncan was still in control.
Lin spun around him and laid it in—easy two. But even as the ball dropped through the net, Lin couldn’t shake the weird feeling that… Duncan let that happen.
As if he were saying: Take your two. It’s not about this play. It’s about the war.
Popovich nodded on the sidelines. He didn’t need Duncan to shut Lin down. That wasn’t realistic. Lin Yi wasn’t some normal rookie. In fact, in his eyes, even rookie Shaq didn’t control a game the way Lin Yi could. Lin was more of a Magic Johnson-type player.
So what was the Spurs' plan?
It clicked for Lin on the next possession.
The Spurs had the ball. Parker brought it up—not running a pick-and-roll with Duncan, but with Jason Richardson.
Weird.
And who was on Duncan now?
David Lee.
Not Lin.
Lin squinted. This setup... this was familiar. Too familiar. It was the same kind of off-ball trick the national team used to run to hide Harden on defense back in the day.
Then Parker came around the screen—and suddenly, boom, he was face-to-face with Lin Yi.
Ah... so that’s how it is.
“Trying to wear me out, huh?” Lin muttered under his breath, “Smart play.”
On the sidelines, Popovich had that sly, little smile on his face—the one that said checkmate even before the move landed.
He wasn’t just testing Lin’s offense. He wanted both ends.
Offense? Okay, let’s see you go at Duncan every possession.
Defense? Here, chase Parker around screens for 40 minutes.
The Spurs’ game plan was as clear as it was brutal:
Eat. Sleep. Defend Lin Yi. Repeat.
But to his surprise, Lin Yi wasn’t backing down. He stuck with Parker through the fakes, the spins, the feints.
“Damn, this kid’s got wheels,” Popovich mumbled.
Parker tried to shake him, using every hesitation and misdirection in the book, but Lin refused to bite.
He’s not even trying to score, Lin thought. Popo probably told him—burn me out, don’t worry about points.
Well, that was fine.
Payback was part of the game.
Nobody escapes the grind forever.
But if they thought Lin Yi would fold?
Then they didn’t know him.
