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Chapter 356 - NBA Eastern Conference Semifinals

The night before the Knicks–Celtics showdown, the Heat finally squeezed past the Hawks 4–3, letting Miami fans breathe again.

Lin Yi, watching from New York, couldn't help thinking the Bulls might drag the Heat into another exhausting Game 7. That would suit the Knicks just fine.

Madison Square Garden – May 1, Eastern Conference Semifinals, Game 1

Before tip-off, Doc Rivers gathered his players.

"This is our window," he told them, voice low but firm. "Maybe our last shot at a title. You've seen the Knicks getting stronger, and the Bulls and Heat rising. Paul, Kevin, Rajon, Ray… tonight, we give it everything."

The veterans nodded, their mood suddenly heavier. Though a few of them exchanged wry looks—Doc had said something similar last year. And the year before.

As Rivers ran through the lineup, he mentioned Rondo before Ray Allen. Ray didn't flinch, just kept that calm smile. No sign of irritation, at least not outwardly.

..

The Knicks locker room felt looser. Lin Yi grinned at his teammates.

"Let's start our run," he said, almost like a challenge and a promise rolled together.

The Garden was buzzing. Fans wanted revenge for last season's exit. Up in the stands, Yao Ming and Yi Jianlian were easy to spot, there to back Lin Yi.

"Great to see the Chinese connection in the house," Yu Jia remarked on the national broadcast.

"Yao's presence always lifts the crowd," Coach Zhang added. "And Yi has improved a lot this year—he credits those summer workouts with Lin Yi for part of that."

.

Starting Fives

Knicks:

Tyson Chandler

Lin Yi

Danilo Gallinari

 Danny Green

Chauncey Billups.

Celtics:

 Garnett

 Jeff Green

Paul Pierce

 Ray Allen

Rajon Rondo.

Boston's veterans—Garnett, Pierce, Allen—cast expectant looks toward Jeff Green, their younger running mate. Jeff thumped his chest three times, like a gladiator bracing for combat.

Across the circle, he locked eyes with Lin Yi, as if declaring: I'm 6-9, 235. Power forward. Your wall tonight. Think you can move me?

Lin Yi's answer came at the opening tip.

He out-jumped Garnett cleanly, and Billups wasted no time starting the first Knicks possession.

Jeff Green set his feet, ready for a collision. He got it.

Lin Yi's first shoulder hit him like a sledgehammer. Jeff absorbed it, exhaled—only to feel the second bump, sudden and soft as a feint. The third came without warning, a sharp, twisting force that nearly spun him off balance.

Classic Shaq trick: constant pressure, then a sudden change of rhythm.

Swish!

Lin Yi finished with a quick spin and soft touch off the glass.

Madison Square Garden roared as he strode back on defense, O'Neal's trademark swagger in his step.

Shaq himself, watching on the bench, gave a mock glare.

"Man, that's my move," he muttered.

Knicks 2, Celtics 0.

The Knicks' plan was clear: attack Boston's interior until it cracked.

Outside shooters—Gallinari, Green, Billups—waited like loaded traps.

Next possession, they fed Lin Yi again.

This time, he barely broke a sweat. Jeff Green felt the air squeeze out of his chest. He remembered Lin Yi's college debut at Davidson; back then, the kid was promising but raw.

Now? Terrifying.

Garnett slid over a beat late. Without Kendrick Perkins to anchor the paint, the Celtics' defense suddenly looked thin.

Another easy bucket.

 Knicks up 0-4.

And the Garden smelled blood.

.

SBC Gallinari became another pressure point for the Knicks' attack. With Lin Yi setting a bruising screen, Gallinari and Billups sliced through Boston's defense and finished at the rim with ease.

The Celtics' offense, meanwhile, looked stuck in the mud. Gallinari was willing to foul before letting Pierce get comfortable. Ray Allen found Danny Green clinging to him like Velcro, and Billups gave Rondo a sly hand gesture, practically inviting him to try something.

Rondo just stared back, saying nothing.

Boston finally turned to Garnett to set the tone, but the veteran's legs weren't the same. Last year's Finals had already exposed the decline. He'd added weight to protect the paint, but that only slowed him further.

.

Midway through the first quarter, the Celtics called a timeout.

Out of the break, Jeff Green cut hard to the basket and caught a perfect pass, ready to hammer down a dunk and redeem himself.

But Lin Yi was already there—rising behind him for a clean, soaring block that echoed through the Garden.

Lin grabbed the ball and went coast-to-coast. Pierce tried to foul near midcourt but was a half-step late. The only Celtic who managed to retreat was Rondo, wisely veered aside.

Lin took off, spun 180 degrees in the air, and hammered a one-handed dunk that was pure Vince Carter tribute.

Madison Square Garden erupted in a chant of "MVP! MVP!"

Yao Ming and Yi Jianlian jumped to their feet, cheering.

On the sideline, Steph Curry mimed a choking gesture, as if the play had knocked the air out of him.

"A UFO just landed in New York," Mike Breen exclaimed on the broadcast. "The Celtics simply can't outrun time. Remember last season? Lin Yi wasn't this comfortable against them."

"It's not only Boston aging," Mark Jackson added. "Lin Yi's been dominant all year. Jeff Green can't stay in front of him. Will they switch Garnett onto Lin? But even KG looks gassed."

Doc Rivers had little choice but to use a dead ball to send in Jermaine O'Neal. Jeff Green trudged to the bench, eyes glazed. Rivers offered quick words of encouragement, but they barely registered.

O'Neal's relief was short-lived. The Knicks immediately countered with Lou Williams, stretching the floor and pulling the big man into uncomfortable space.

New York's scheme was merciless: constant movement, attacking every weak link. Garnett's chest heaved as he tried to cover ground. Pierce, drenched in sweat, earned another trip to the free-throw line, while Ray Allen shoved at Danny Green in frustration, desperate for breathing room.

By the end of the first quarter, the Knicks—rested and relentless—led by 18. At halftime, the margin ballooned to 30.

Some critics had predicted Lin Yi's numbers would dip under playoff pressure. Instead, his teammates guarded him so well that he barely needed to force shots.

Eight minutes into the third, Mike D'Antoni, committed to keeping legs fresh, finally pulled a still-eager Lin for Shane Battier.

When the final horn sounded, any doubts about the Knicks' intent vanished.

Final: Celtics 88, Knicks 129.

A 41-point statement to open the Eastern Conference semifinals.

...

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