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Chapter 143: Magic vs Knicks 3
🕑 Added 2025-05-24 15:03:13 +0000 UTCThe Knicks players couldn’t hold back anymore—they burst into laughter as they lined up for the sideline inbound.
Tony Douglas caught the ball, pushed it past halfcourt, and called Lin Yi over for a pick-and-roll. On defense, White Chocolate Jason Williams tried to wiggle around the screen—veteran instincts and all—but unfortunately, this chocolate wasn't exactly smooth. He ran straight into Lin Yi’s brick-wall screen, and Douglas zipped right into the paint.
Douglas was fired up. After waiting forever to be free of Larry Hughes and Chris Duhon, he finally thought his chance had come, only to find out Lou Williams was ahead of him in the pecking order, too.
But now? Now he was the starting point guard, and he was ready to make it count.
He charged into the lane with one thing on his mind: I'm gonna finish this!
Except... SMACK!
Dwight Howard, still salty from all the trolling, met him at the rim with a monster rejection. The ball slapped the floor like a rock skipping off water.
Superman let out a roar like he’d just saved the universe from a crisis. But MSG wasn't impressed.
Boo!
Big deal. So what if you blocked a layup?
Our guy Lin Yi didn’t even flinch. Didn’t clap. Didn’t react. He wasn’t impressed.
Tony Douglas looked a bit dejected as he picked himself up, but Lin Yi gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. "Nah, it was the right move. Just unlucky you ran into Howard in his feelings."
Anyway—game on.
The Knicks inbounded from the baseline with barely any time left on the shot clock. Lin Yi, who’d been dancing with Matt Barnes behind the ball, took the inbound, gave one hard dribble right—and then hit him with a crossover so wide you’d think it came with GPS coordinates.
BOOM, BOOM, BOOM—WHOOSH!
"MV-P! MV-P! MV-P!" The chant exploded from the stands.
Howard looked like someone had just stolen his lunch. His expression said it all: What the hell did I do to deserve this?
It wasn’t even a crazy move—just a smooth and-1 layup. But still... Howard couldn’t help but think, Hmph, what's the big deal? I’ve had like, what, fifty and ones in my career already?
Just as he was brooding under the rim, Lin Yi turned to him with the kind of smirk that should be illegal.
“I can teach you, you know,” Lin said, all innocent-like. “Free throws really aren’t that hard.”
Howard felt that. Right in the chest.
Then Lin stepped up to the line. A camera zoomed in for the close-up, and just before he shot, he closed his eyes.
Swear to God.
Because, as the great MJ once said: If you’re gonna act like a badass, you better go all the way.
Swish!
Straight in.
Back when he was still the little guy, Lin used to practice this exact shot with Steph Curry. Hundreds of reps a day. No kidding.
He opened his eyes, shrugged at Howard, and said, “See? Eyes closed. Still easier than your form.”
Howard was speechless.
He seriously considered wearing noise-cancelling headphones for the rest of the season.
MSG was electric. That chubby Knicks fan in his brand-new Lin Yi jersey was going wild with euphoria.
Barkley snorted. “Lin’s just plain evil. Dwight might need therapy after this game.”
Kenny Smith added, “Man, Lin’s not just twisting the knife—he’s marinating it in salt first.”
The crowd was still buzzing when the Knicks brought back the hack tactic. And once again, Howard had to head to the line.
“Don’t stress, Dwight,” Lin said, walking by with his best angel face. “Free throws are super easy, I promise.”
Howard didn’t say a word. He just stared ahead like a man who’d seen things.
When I get back to Orlando, he thought, I’m buying ten Lin Yi jerseys... and setting them all on fire.
He took a deep breath and stepped to the line.
But all he could think about now was Lin shooting with his eyes closed.
Free throws are easy... I can do that too...
Yeah. No.
He bricked the first one.
The second?
Clang!
Howard stood there, staring at the rim.
Simple, huh?
Screw simple.
That made four straight misses.
Back-to-back trips with zero points. Brutal.
Lin Yi grabbed the rebound like it was nothing, pushed the pace, and hit Lou Williams with a quick outlet. Lou darted into the paint, smooth as always—but this time, something was off.
Maybe Howard was still thinking about free throws. Whatever the reason, his defense slipped.
Lou took full advantage and pulled off a slick reverse layup.
Swish!
21-26. Knicks by five.
Madison Square Garden exploded again.
Magic coach Stan Van Gundy wasn’t having it. He jumped up like he’d sat on a tack and called a timeout, practically clenching his clipboard to death in frustration.
What could he say? There’s no playbook for getting hacked to death.
Go over to the Knicks' bench and ask Mike D’Antoni to be nice?
Please.
This was the NBA. Not a summer camp.
Fair play? Fair play is just another word for not being smart enough to exploit weaknesses.
Howard can’t hit free throws. That’s not the Knicks’ fault.
Honestly, everyone in the building knew the truth: Howard was a beast. Without Yao Ming or Shaq around, there wasn’t anyone left who could go toe-to-toe with him in the paint.
Offense, defense—he was dominating.
But Lin Yi had done his homework. And Chinese fans? They'd been calling it for years.
Howard had the smile, the muscles, the dunks—but deep down, that swagger was a cover.
Cover for what?
For nerves.
For doubt.
Shaq smiled too, but he didn’t choke in the Finals. He grinned straight into the camera, then dropped 40 and 20 on your favorite center.
Shaq didn’t run from pressure—he ate it.
When the chips were down, Shaq didn’t flinch. He flexed. He bullied. He won.
That’s the difference.
Howard had the talent. But he wasn’t that guy. Not yet.
And tonight?
The Knicks weren’t overpowering the Magic with brute strength or perfect execution.
They were just playing smarter.
They found the crack in the armor and hammered at it with kryptonite.
So while analysts were still trying to figure out how New York could possibly break through Orlando’s suffocating defense...
The Magic were already breaking themselves.
Because in the end, they handed the keys to a man who wasn’t ready to drive.
