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Chapter 142: Magic vs Knicks 2
🕑 Added 2025-05-23 11:47:11 +0000 UTCIn the first quarter, Lin Yi played just six minutes out of the twelve before D’Antoni subbed him out.
The broadcast director couldn’t help himself—he zoomed in for a cheeky close-up of Patrick The Gorilla Ewing, who’d come back to New York as part of the Magic’s coaching crew. Once a Knicks legend, now he was mentoring Dwight Superman Howard... and at this moment, Ewing had his head buried in his hands like he’d just seen something tragic. Classic meme material.
Howard clocked nine minutes in the first quarter before Van Gundy pulled him. Coach Van had done his homework. He knew the key to beating New York was slowing down their second unit.
Howard’s first quarter?
2-for-5 from the field, 1-for-4 from the line. Five points, five boards, one assist, one block.
Not terrible, but not great either. He bricked his first two shots, then settled down a bit. Still, Ewing—watching from the bench—just sighed.
“He forgot everything?” he muttered under his breath.
Where’s that silky hook shot they worked on? Where’s the footwork?
The season’s been going for a while now, and Ewing still hadn’t seen much growth in Howard’s technical arsenal. It wasn’t even that Ewing was being too harsh—it’s just that comparisons hurt. Especially when Lin Yi, on the other side, looked so damn polished. So smooth. So… Knicks.
Ewing, loyal to the core, couldn’t help but feel a little proud. Another New York big making waves. Sure, Lin Yi wasn’t a traditional center—hell, people were still debating what he was—but who cared when he played like that?
But man... why wasn’t Howard getting it? The talent was there. The body, the bounce. Yet every time Ewing tried to pass on the old-school big man craft, it just didn’t stick.
Meanwhile, the scoreboard said Lin had also gone 2-for-5, with 5 points, 3 boards, 3 dimes, and a block in that first quarter. Basically neck and neck with Howard.
But let’s be real, playing cool just hits different.
...
Second quarter, new lineups.
The Knicks sent out Lin Yi, Harrington, Gallinari, Belinelli, and Lou Williams.
The Magic didn’t pull any punches: Howard, Matt Barnes, Michael Pietrus, JJ Redick, and the still-smooth Jason White Chocolate Williams.
"Van Gundy did his prep," Kenny Smith noted. "This second unit’s all about neutralizing the Knicks’ scoring punch."
"Yup," Barkley grunted. "Howard clogs the paint, the rest chase shooters. Let’s see if it works. Knicks down 21-19."
Knicks ball to start. Magic’s defense looked sharp, tough, and physical. Van Gundy threw Barnes at Lin Yi.
Not because Barnes could stop him, but just to wear him down. Keep him uncomfortable. Same trick Phil Jackson used to pull.
Barnes wasn’t there to win. Just to annoy.
Pietrus, aka Air France, was athletic as hell overseas—but in the NBA? More 3-and-D than anything else. He averaged around 8.7 points this season, mostly off corner threes. Good shooter, great defender.
Then you had JJ Redick, their bench sniper. Guy was shooting 40% from deep this year—not quite the college god he once was, but still dangerous.
And White Chocolate? Not so much flashy anymore. The old man had settled into a rhythm—steady three-point stroke, tight handle, solid playmaker. Less highlight reel, more glue guy.
That was the Magic’s identity now: chuck threes, let Dwight hold down the fort, and hit you in transition if you messed up.
...
Right out the gate—Lin Yi caught Barnes off balance, spun, leaned back, fadeaway jumper.
He made a heart shape symbol with his hands to Olsen before rushing back.
Cash!
MSG went nuts.
"Showtime is f**king smooth," someone in the crowd shouted.
Eli Manning stood up, clapping. Spike Lee broke into a sideline dance.
Elizabeth Olsen? Smitten.
But D’Antoni and the coaching staff? They weren’t smiling.
The old man knew the signs. If Lin Yi had to resort to tough, flashy shots, it meant the offense wasn’t flowing.
Magic’s defense had them in a chokehold. They were cutting off Lin’s passing lanes, shutting down his reads. Daring him to beat them solo.
And that? That played right into Van Gundy’s hands.
Lin’s fadeaway made it 21-all, but on the next Magic possession, they dumped it into Dwight.
Harrington? No nonsense. He just hacked Howard. Clear foul.
Next trip down, same thing. Magic inbounded, Dwight got it.
Whistle!
Belinelli fouled him.
Van Gundy’s smile turned upside down. “What the hell—?”
Howard looked confused, too. Two trips, two fouls?
Welcome to the Hack-a-Dwight plan. The Knicks were done playing nice. They were gonna send Howard to the line every damn time.
Magic inbounded again. Dwight caught it, spun, lined up a baby hook—nope! Lin Yi reached in, yanked him down gently.
Even helped him up afterward.
"Yup," Kenny Smith chuckled. "They’re going full hack-mode. Second quarter, no shame."
"Can you blame ‘em?" Barkley laughed. "Dwight can’t hit free throws to save his life. Some people even advised him to try the underhand free throw or granny shot, but the man’s got pride."
Back in last year’s Finals, someone actually suggested that. Change the form, start fresh.
But Superman? Nah. Too proud.
Pride can be expensive in this league.
...
Howard strolled up to the line, spinning the ball like he was trying to remember what came next. The Knicks fans at MSG were already losing it—some booing, most just laughing their heads off.
“Yo, look at that form,” Chandler muttered as he jogged over to grab his rebound spot. “Lin, is he trying to play Super Mario with a basketball?”
Lin Yi grinned. “Nah, man is 'bout to take off and save Lois."
“Makes sense,” Chandler nodded solemnly.
Howard glared.
Were they seriously doing a whole comedy skit behind him?
Dwight shook it off. He knew what they were doing. This was classic distraction, old-school psychological warfare. So, he did what any self-respecting big man would do—he started humming.
“Wait a sec,” Chandler blinked. “Is he humming that song my mom had on her old CD?”
Howard flinched. Direct hit. Right in the soul.
Dwight took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. Lin and Chandler had shut up when the Ref looked their way, just standing there all calm and innocent. But the damage was done.
No, Dwight. Lock in. They’re baiting you.
Answer with buckets. Focus... and shoot.
First free throw. Deep breath. He launched.
Solid motion. Weird angle. Decent arc.
Air ball. Didn’t even hit the rim.
The Garden lost it.
Even Elizabeth Olsen, who probably couldn’t tell a zone defense from a zoning permit, was cracking up courtside.
Howard’s face flushed. Not that you could tell with him. But inside? Pure tomato mode.
“I kinda feel bad for the man,” Kenny Smith sympathized.
“Joy for Knicks fans then,” Barkley added.
The crowd hushed just enough for attempt number two.
Howard squared up again.
Hoop: Come on, bro. Just put it in the center.
Another airball again.
