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Chapter 140: Centers Of Attention
🕑 Added 2025-05-22 15:16:48 +0000 UTCBack in New York, the Knicks had a well-earned day off.
On the 28th, Lin Yi was already up at four in the morning, hitting the gym while the rest of the city was still asleep. After a solid workout and refueling, he sat down to rewatch some game tapes—specifically of the Magic this season.
The Magic had been a powerhouse from 2008 to 2011. In both the '08-'09 and 09-'10 seasons, they were legit title contenders. They fell short in the ‘10 playoffs after pushing the Celtics hard in the Eastern Conference Finals. But Boston’s grizzled gang just had too much experience and grit.
Even though Lin Yi had joked to the media about wanting Dwight Howard to guard him, he wasn’t taking that matchup lightly.
Trash talk was for the cameras. Privately? Lin was all business.
Respect your opponent mentally. Beat them tactically.
And Howard, at his peak, was no joke. The guy was LeBron in a center’s body: explosive, crazy bounce, fast for his size, and could cover so much ground on defense, it was unreal. He could hedge on pick-and-rolls like a guard and still recover in time for weak-side blocks.
But the downside of that style? Once that athleticism started slipping, the cracks would show—slower reactions, late rotations, and he’d end up being more of a liability than an asset on both ends.
Lin knew he couldn’t bully Dwight like Yao once did. He wasn’t that heavy. And this Magic team? Dangerous. Elite defense, and their offense ran off a barrage of threes. Their floor spacing naturally countered the Knicks’ game plan.
“I hope we don’t draw the Magic or the Celtics in the first round,” Lin muttered after wrapping up film study. “I’d rather play LeBron’s Cavs.”
Just as he was thinking that, his phone buzzed.
It was Yi Jianlian. The Nets didn’t have a game today, so he figured he’d come over to train with Lin.
By now, Yi was jacked. His upper body was ripped, the result of months of hard gym work. Lin remembered this version of Yi—strong, built, but still struggling to finish around the rim. It wasn’t a strength issue. Even Durant was wiry, and he finished just fine. Finishing inside was more about feel, timing, and core control.
Out on Lin’s outdoor court, the two got to work. It didn’t take long for Lin to spot a few issues in Yi’s game.
First, he hesitated too much when attacking. His fakes were robotic—telegraphed.
Second, he was too obsessed with textbook form. He’d go through the whole shooting motion before actually letting it fly.
Third, his layups lacked touch. The wrist action was too stiff.
“Chair,” Lin said, calling him by his nickname, “why are you so hell-bent on finishing the whole motion before shooting? You’re slowing yourself down. That textbook form? Throw it out. Look at Dirk—his shots are all about wrist action. Quick and high.”
Lin knew changing someone’s shooting mechanics took time, but shot selection and rhythm? That he could help with right now.
“If the Nets run pick-and-rolls with you and Devin Harris, and Lopez is on the floor, pop out to the three-point line. Space it. If Lopez sits, roll decisively. Even if Harris ignores you, crash the boards hard—you’ll get your chances.”
“If someone’s pressing up on you, here’s a little trick: your right-hand dribble’s decent, right? Pull left with the right hand, then snap it back. That’ll freeze shorter defenders. If they’re slow, go right at ‘em.”
“And stop dumping passes back to Lopez or Harris. Lopez just posts up endlessly—no assists there. Harris? He loves dribbling around and taking his shot. Same deal. Instead, swing it to the wings—those dudes catch and shoot. That’s your assist goldmine. Set them up, box out, grab boards. Stat sheet stuffing.”
“On defense, don’t waste your energy chasing every rotation. Be selective. It’s not about shutting everyone down—it’s about playing smart. Make it tough. Even if they hit a tough shot, that’s still a win for you. Watch Garnett during his Celtics years—he knew how to defend without burning out.”
Lin had more advice than a coaching staff. “Look, you’re always getting hurt after a stretch of good games, right? That’s because you overextend. You don’t need to be everywhere. And don’t bang inside unnecessarily. Stay healthy, pick your spots.”
He genuinely admired Lin Yi. The way Lin analyzed games, broke down tactics—it was another level. Not just as a player, but like a coach, scout, and strategist rolled into one.
“You know so much about the league,” Yi said, shaking his head. “Honestly, you’re more insightful than our assistant coaches.”
Lin laughed. “You’re not the first to say that. I play a lot of 2K when I’m bored. That game has more realistic tactics than half the teams in the league.”
“Your Nets are tanking, bro. Stop thinking about wins. Think about your stats. Next year’s your contract year, right? That’s what matters.”
“Josh Boone’s physical, but he’s clumsy. Anderson can shoot, but plays defense like a marshmallow. Humphries? Smart guy, but not much upside. You’ve got the tools. Just play smart. Even if you don’t stay with the Nets, you’ll get a decent deal next season.”
Yi nodded, thoughtful.
In the afternoon, Lin Yi and Yi Jianlian went at it one-on-one for a bit.
To Yi Jianlian, Lin was like a walking offensive cheat code—he had a move for every situation. Meanwhile, Yi’s own arsenal felt… well, a bit too vanilla.
"Bro, don’t stress too much about being flashy," Lin said, wiping sweat from his brow. "Just focus on catch-and-shoot for now. Maybe add a quick one-dribble pull-up. In the NBA, it’s all about having your own go-to. And hey, if you’re under the rim? Dunk that thing. Don’t overthink it—your finishing percentage will thank you."
Yi nodded, but he’d already made up his mind: he wasn’t listening to his team's advice anymore. They were pushing him too fast, trying to turn him into something he wasn’t. It was doing more harm than good.
...
Meanwhile, the Orlando Magic had just landed in New York and were already hitting the gym for their pre-game prep.
Howard was working on that awkward-looking jumper of his. Over the years, he’d been coached by legends—Ewing, Olajuwon—but nothing seemed to stick. The footwork, the finesse, the polish… it just wasn’t in his bag.
Olajuwon's dream shake? When Howard tried it, it looked more like a nightmare.
Ewing’s classic turnaround jumper? Howard somehow turned it into a disaster.
To be honest, the guy was built like a tank up top but had chicken legs down low. Great upper-body strength, but no stability in the post.
Lin Yi was the opposite—lean up top, but strong and grounded through the legs. Stable, controlled.
Ewing was trying to help Howard with his face-up game again today, but halfway through the session, he couldn’t stop muttering, “What the hell is going on?”
Still, Howard was a happy-go-lucky type. Even the tiniest improvement would have him grinning for hours.
Not today, though.
Today, he wasn’t smiling.
Because tomorrow, they were playing the Knicks.
And lately, the buzz had been brutal: Lin Yi was better suited to start as the Eastern Conference All-Star center. Why? Because he could pass, shoot, block, run the floor—everything except out-rebound Howard.
After last year’s Finals, people thought the league was entering the Howard Era. But that take didn’t age well. Especially after Game 2, when the Magic blew a lead and Howard missed crucial free throws with that goofy grin on his face.
Ever since then, the narrative had shifted: maybe Howard didn’t take winning seriously enough.
So yeah, if there was one guy Dwight didn’t want to lose to this season, it was Lin Yi.
To make things worse, Ewing kept praising Lin. “That kid’s footwork is unreal,” he’d say. “Great touch around the rim.”
Howard couldn’t stand it. "Footwork this, skyhook that…" He didn’t see the hype. Lin was more of a face-up scorer anyway—he only posted up every now and then.
And the skyhook? Howard snorted to himself. Cute move. Doesn’t even use it that much.
What really got under his skin was the way the media described Lin—ruthless, tough, bloody-minded. Meanwhile, they called Dwight soft just because he smiled too much.
Voting for the All-Star Game hadn’t even started, but Howard was sweating. He knew the Chinese fanbase was huge. And now Lin was blowing up in the States too?
Why the hell can’t this dude just switch to power forward? Howard groaned internally. Why’s he gotta steal my spot?
Everyone on the Magic already knew how much Howard cared. So before the game, they made a pact—get him his numbers. Feed the big man.
Howard was ready to make a statement. He wanted the headlines to read: Dwight Howard, the best center in the East.
Van Gundy even adjusted the game plan to protect him. Rashard Lewis would take Lin Yi, and if Lin tried to post up, then—and only then—would Howard step in.
...
Lin didn’t think he was better than Howard—not yet, anyway.
He knew how dominant Superman could be.
Lin just had more to think about than stats and matchups. He wasn’t here to beat Howard—he was here to become someone even the greats couldn’t ignore.
