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Chapter 97: Pre-season 2 Game (Hawks vs Knicks)
🕑 Added 2025-05-01 14:25:08 +0000 UTCThe Hawks still had bite.
With 5:37 left in the first quarter, the Knicks called their first timeout.
The scoreboard said 15–12. Just a three-point gap, but Atlanta had the edge.
Then came the substitution.
Coach D’Antoni pulled Lin Yi.
And the Garden booed.
Loudly.
One of the kids in the front row—one of those little superfans who’d seen Lin in that scrimmage—stood up and yelled, “Put Lin back in! We wanna see Lin!”
D’Antoni’s forehead twitched.
God help me, he thought. It’s not even the regular season, and this kid’s got some pull..
Still, he didn’t give in to the crowd. Lin wasn’t benched for rest. D’Antoni wanted to test something—how Lin would do leading the second unit. That kind of flexibility mattered. Lin hadn’t scored yet, but he already had 3 rebounds and 4 assists in the first. Not flashy on the box score, but quietly impactful.
And Lin? He was fine with it.
Horford was a solid big—skilled, physical, and smart. Lin knew trying to dominate him too early would just tank his efficiency. He wasn’t here to force bad shots just to chase stats.
Besides, assists count too, don’t they?
Lin’s fancy passes and slick footwork already had the crowd gasping. Honestly, even if a flashy guard pulled off those kinds of moves, fans would eat it up. So for a seven-foot-three center to do it?
Yeah, that was theater.
When Lin checked out, Horford visibly relaxed. Finally, no more getting dragged into those annoying-as-hell pick-and-rolls every possession.
Horford could defend. That wasn’t the issue. But being forced to chase a unicorn of big man around the perimeter every trip? That was exhausting.
Without Lin, the Knicks leaned on their threes. Gallinari hit a couple from deep, but the Hawks took control. Their core looked sharp, like a legit playoff team. When the quarter ended, Atlanta was up 31–22.
Then the second quarter started.
The crowd roared again as Lin checked back in.
This time, he was running with the bench squad—Jared Jeffries at the four, Wilson Chandler at the three, Larry Hughes at the two, and rookie Tony Douglas at the one.
The Hawks rolled out their bench, too: Zaza Pachulia at center, Joe Smith at power forward, Morris Evans on the wing, Jamal Crawford at the two, and Jeff Teague—another rookie—running point.
Teague dapped up Lin before the inbound.
“Yo, ‘09 class chat gonna hear this after I beat you,” he grinned.
Lin smirked back. “Don’t let me cook you too bad.”
Seeing that lineup, Lin’s eyes lit up.
Joe Smith? Aging vet, smart but slow. Zaza? Floor-bound big, tough guy, but glacial laterally. Lin just had to keep him from getting stomped on.
Only problem? This Knicks bench backcourt was rough. Hughes couldn’t shoot anymore, and Douglas, while steady, didn’t have much off the dribble.
Lin leaned over and patted Chandler’s shoulder. “You get a window, just cut. I’ll find you. If not, I got the board.”
Chandler grinned and nodded. He’d been on the receiving end of plenty of Lin’s dimes in practice.
The Hawks opened with the ball. Crawford danced a bit, shook Douglas with a smooth behind-the-back move, but the jumper rimmed out.
Lin grabbed the board.
He scanned the court. Chandler wasn’t open. So Lin kept it.
Douglas sprinted up, not even calling for the ball. He trusted Lin to handle it.
Zaza backed off, hovering near the arc. He knew Lin could shoot it, but also knew if he pressed too hard, he’d get burned.
He chose wrong.
Lin shifted left, then hit Zaza with a wicked crossover—one of those Hardaway-type ones, big range, tight control, full body motion.
Zaza’s balance betrayed him. His knees buckled.
Down he went.
The Garden lost it.
Lin surged forward, lowered his shoulder, and took two long strides from just inside the free-throw line.
Up he went.
In the air, Lin had all the time in the world. Nobody came to contest. They expected a pass. Rookie mistake.
Instead, Lin cocked it back—windmill dunk. Thunderous.
The rim rattled like it was pissed off. Lin held it for a second before dropping down, letting the rim absorb the shock. Pure power.
Sometimes, blood and guts didn’t need a scowl.
Sometimes, a dunk said it all.
“Oh my God, CRUEL!” Barkley howled. “Zaza just got put on a poster by another center! You don’t see that every day.”
Kenny Smith winced. “Pachulia bit on the wrong move. That crossover was nasty.”
Back in China, fans on the forums were losing their minds.
“Is this real life?”
“Seven-foot-three and handles like a guard? No way!”
“That crossover... Lin, just made me w-”
Meanwhile, Knicks fans in the Garden were practically foaming at the mouth. That offseason trade with the Clippers? Masterstroke.
In the executive seats, Isaiah Thomas sank lower in his chair.
Every good Lin play made him look worse.
Donnie Walsh didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to.
Next to him, Hawks General Manager Rick Sund glanced over at Horford, who immediately looked away. No way he was going back in now—not yet.
Coach Woodson waved him off. Preseason, he reminded him. Not worth chasing one play.
Back on the court, Crawford made a slick move, breaking Douglas off the dribble. He whipped a clever bounce pass to Zaza under the rim.
Zaza went up for a little floater—wanted those two points back.
Too bad Lin had other plans.
He’d been chilling on defense to save his legs. But this?
This was a gift.
Lin read the pass, turned, and launched.
His vertical wasn’t just impressive—it was unreal.
One giant stride, perfect timing, wingspan like a plane—he reached out and snatched the shot clean.
No fingertip block.
A grab.
The arena gasped.
Before anyone could process it, Lin was already dribbling down the court. One-man fast break. He drew the defense and dished to Chandler, who tossed it off the glass.
Lin soared in.
BOOM.
Off-the-backboard slam. Double-handed. Arena went nuclear.
Chandler and Douglas were already running back to bump Lin’s chest, laughing.
Lin pounded his chest once, growling.
LIN!
LIN!
LIN!
The crowd chanted.
Barkley nearly fell out of his chair. “Ohhhh, that’s violent! That’s nasty! That's diabolical. Poor Zaza’s gonna have nightmares!”
Kenny shook his head. “Shame this isn’t a regular season game. That’s Top 5 material, easy.”
“Preseason or not, that’s a highlight,” Barkley said. “Stamp it.”
On the floor, the Knicks surrounded Lin in celebration.
What Lin didn’t notice… was the way Zaza Pachulia was staring at him from under the basket.
He’d been crossed, dunked on, blocked into oblivion, and turned into a poster twice.
He clenched his fists.
Something dark brewed behind those eyes.
And the seed of revenge was quietly, bitterly planted.
Comments
Matt
Zaza about to pull a land on the foot and miss the season play…but get either mobbed by MSG or KO’d by one of the Knicks
