Madison Square Garden on the night of the 17th was a rolling sea of white. Every seat shimmered with the giveaway T-shirts—extra-large by design so that even the biggest New Yorkers could squeeze in comfortably. For plenty of female fans, they doubled as dresses with denim shorts, which gave the arena a casual summer-festival vibe.
Down near the floor, actress Elizabeth Olsen had opted for the dress look. The Garden's air-conditioning never quits, but even with the chill, her silhouette was impossible to miss when the cameras panned across the front row.
A few seats away, two familiar NBA faces—Stephen Curry and DeMarcus Cousins—were taking in the pre-game buzz. Their Warriors were already on vacation, but both had flown in the night before.
Cousins leaned back, arms crossed, surveying the crowd. "Man, if the Knicks pull this off, I'm calling Golden State first thing. Lin Yi's game is exactly what we need—I've got to learn that."
Curry handed him a bucket of popcorn. "You keep talking, I'll keep feeding you. Maybe you won't yell in my ear all night."
Cousins laughed, the sound swallowed by the Garden's rising hum.
Across the aisle, Eli Manning had shown up with a handful of Giants teammates. The camera found him instantly, earning a mix of cheers and good-natured boos. Giants fans still hadn't forgiven another rough football season, but the quarterback took it in stride, waving at the crowd. Somewhere in the stands, a fan yelled something about Tom Brady, and a ripple of laughter followed.
If Lin Yi had been an NFL junkie in his previous life, he would've coined the Brady Terminator nickname for Manning long ago. Few quarterbacks could derail Tom Brady like Eli.
For now, Manning was hoping the Knicks could settle a different score—taking out Boston, a favorite of Brady himself.
When the house lights finally dimmed, a hush fell. Then the floor itself lit up in dazzling projection: Forward Toward Dreams and Championships—the Knicks' playoff slogan rippling across the hardwood.
In the lower bowl, a small boy wearing a T-shirt so big it nearly reached his sneakers tugged at his father's arm. "Dad, see? That's the slogan I sent in!"
His father tousled his hair. "I know, champ. If Lin Yi wins tonight, I'm buying you a souvenir."
The boy's grin was pure electricity. "Today, it's all Lin Yi!"
..
Milwaukee, for their part, hadn't arrived expecting a miracle—except for Brandon Jennings.
The Bucks had already exceeded expectations simply by making the postseason, but Jennings had a different itch to scratch. Ever since Lin Yi had famously blocked him in a regular-season matchup, the young guard had felt a quiet shiver whenever they shared a court. A friend had advised him when he indirectly asked about his situation to confront the fear head-on. Jennings decided the cure was obvious: knock the Knicks out and flip the script.
"I'm telling you, we can win this," he said in the tunnel, fists clenched. "Dark-horse eighth seed—we're making it happen."
The roster wasn't lacking talent.
Andrew Bogut anchored the middle with his 2.6 blocks a night.
Ersan Ilyasova stretched defenses with his shooting.
Corey Maggette and John Salmons could both fill it up from mid-range.
Jennings believed they could surprise people—if he played fearlessly.
The Knicks countered with Tyson Chandler, Lin Yi, Danilo Gallinari, Danny Green, and veteran floor general Chauncey Billups. A solid, balanced starting five with playoff scars to match.
Jennings, freshly confident, gave Billups a hard stare during warm-ups. To him, the numbers spoke loudly: more points, more assists—if you ignored the efficiency gap.
And that was the rub. Jennings had fired up fifteen shots a game during the regular season but connected on just 39 percent, a cold 32.8 percent from deep. At the rim, he barely cracked fifty. His passing instincts were fine—sometimes brilliant—but his shot selection made every Bucks possession a gamble.
Coach Scott Skiles knew the numbers. As a player, Skiles once dished out 30 assists in a single game, but as a coach, his career winning percentage still hovered below fifty. Nights like this explained why: when your point guard treats every possession like a heat check, strategy only goes so far.
The Garden crowd didn't care about any of that. They just wanted a show. The white-out roared as the teams emerged, the hardwood slogan fading beneath their sneakers. Playoff basketball in New York was about to begin, and the noise promised to rattle even the steadiest hands.
...
With Lin Yi out-leaping Andrew Bogut on the opening tip, the Knicks' 2010-11 playoff campaign officially got underway at Madison Square Garden. The crowd roared like it knew this first-round matchup with the Bucks might be over before it even began.
From the jump, Lin set the tone. He went right at Ersan Ilyasova, scoring on him again and again until the Turkish forward looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. Every bucket felt like another pin prick to Ilyasova's pride—his frustration was practically visible, piling up like a video game counter: +1, +1, +1.
On the Milwaukee side, Brandon Jennings came in burning for payback. He tried to shake free with a quick layup—stuffed.
Pulled up for a jumper—clanked.
Then, in a moment that summed up his night, he lost the ball off his own foot while dribbling.
From the Knicks' bench, veteran guard Chauncey Billups raised an eyebrow.
"Could this guy be our undercover man?" he muttered, half-joking to a teammate.
Jennings and Lin were from the same 2009 draft class, and Billups had heard the two were friendly. "Wouldn't put it past Lin to have him on the payroll," he added conspiratorially.
It almost seemed plausible.
During a timeout, Jennings looked so deflated he barely met his coach's eyes. But Scott Skiles clapped him on the shoulder, voice firm and encouraging:
"Come on, Brandon. You're our leader—keep attacking."
If Lin had overheard that pep talk, he might have wondered if Skiles himself was secretly pulling for New York.
Back on the floor, nothing changed for Milwaukee. John Salmons couldn't shake Tony Allen's defense. Corey Maggette, once an athletic terror, looked a step slow. Bogut found himself battling Tyson Chandler in the paint and losing ground.
Jennings tried to summon his old swagger: I'm Brandon Jennings. I dropped 55 on Curry. Lin Yi? I'll be the one writing the upset headline tonight.
Instead—bang! —Lin met him at the rim and sent his shot into the seats, capping a nightmare first quarter. Jennings went 0-for-8, while the Knicks closed the period up 30–14.
By the second quarter, Lin nearly spat out his sports drink when he saw Jennings still on the floor.
"Are the Bucks serious? He's still out there?" he murmured, shaking his head.
Jennings, undeterred, locked into a personal duel with Lou Williams. Lou gave him no quarter, flashing quick handles and a quiet confidence that only irritated Jennings more. Every time Lou sank a jumper or slipped a pass, Jennings looked like he wanted to scream.
Marbury, watching from the sideline in a suit, simply folded his arms. He'd once been that lone-wolf scorer himself and now believed in keeping the game under control.
"Don't embarrass them too badly," he'd told the Knicks before tip-off. Jennings, of course, couldn't have guessed at that subtle mercy.
Even when the Knicks left him open, Jennings' shots refused to fall. Each miss drew a louder groan from the Milwaukee bench while the Garden crowd treated it like a jazz concert—chants, cheers, and a rhythm all its own.
By the final buzzer, New York had run the Bucks off the floor, 71–114, a staggering 43-point margin.
Jennings managed a modest fourth-quarter rally to reach 11 points on 4-for-21 shooting (1-of-8 from deep, 2-for-2 at the line), adding just two rebounds and three assists.
Lin Yi hardly broke a sweat. As he walked off, he noticed even the Knicks' defensive specialists shaking their heads, unsatisfied despite the rout.