The Knicks, after lifting the trophy, flew back to New York overnight.
On the plane, O'Neal was already snoring loudly, clutching the championship trophy to his chest as if to say, "Touch it and you die."
Lin Yi couldn't sleep.
He was exhausted, sure — but his mind refused to rest.
The 2010–11 season had been everything he dreamed of — MVP, Finals MVP, and a title for New York. But as he stared out at the night sky from the plane window, one thought kept circling in his mind:
What comes next?
History had already changed. The Knicks were champions again. But if he wanted to build a dynasty, he knew the hard part was just beginning.
O'Neal was definitely retiring — that much was obvious. The big man's excitement was almost childlike, and Lin could tell this ring was his goodbye gift to the game.
Marbury and Pat Ewing Jnr had already made their decision too: they'd head to China next season, lockout or not, and dominate the CBA.
Then there were the contracts — expiring deals, renewal talks, draft plans.
The Knicks needed reshaping.
And the timing couldn't have been worse.
With the looming lockout, everything froze after July 1st. No contracts, no negotiations, no signings or trades. No team facilities, no training camps. Even team websites wouldn't be allowed to show players' faces.
It was chaos waiting to happen.
Lin exhaled, rubbing his eyes.
"One step at a time," he muttered to himself.
…
"Hey, Lin, you're awake too?"
Lin turned to see Gallinari strolling over, looking wide awake despite the long night.
"You're not sleeping either?" Lin asked with a faint smile. "I thought you'd be sleeping, ready to hit a nightclub when we land."
Gallinari's face fell.
"Really? After a championship, that's your image of me?"
Lin chuckled but noticed something off. Gallinari wasn't joking around like usual. His expression was serious — hesitant, even.
"What's up, Danilo?" Lin asked.
Gallinari hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath.
"Lin… I want to ask for a trade."
Lin blinked, caught off guard. "A trade? You're leaving?"
"Look, it's not about being unhappy here," Gallinari said quickly. "I love this team. I love New York. But my agent and I talked — and honestly, I don't think the Knicks are going to offer me a max contract. I've got to look out for… my career."
Lin leaned back, processing.
He knew Gallinari wasn't wrong. Under the current NBA rules, a player coming off a rookie deal could sign a contract worth up to 25% of the salary cap. Technically, the Knicks could offer that — but doing so would wreck their financial flexibility.
He still remembered his conversation with Javier Stanford about it.
"Lin," Stanford had said, "we could pay Danilo big money, sure. But if we do, we lose the room to add anyone else. We'd be locking ourselves in."
And now, after a championship run, Gallinari's mindset had clearly shifted.
He'd done his part. He'd helped New York win. But now, he wanted something more — to be the guy somewhere else.
It wasn't even about money anymore.
It was pride. Validation. The dream of becoming an All-Star on his own terms.
Lin understood that completely.
The timing, though, couldn't be worse. With the lockout uncertainty, agents across the league were scrambling to secure guarantees before everything froze. Gallinari had averaged 16 points and 6 rebounds that season, shooting over 41% from three — there'd be no shortage of offers.
He was the handsome, sharpshooting Italian face of a championship team. Teams would line up for that.
Lin sighed. He remembered how, in the original timeline, even with Gallinari's injuries, Denver still handed him a huge deal.
And now?
With a ring and a healthier body, he was worth even more.
There was no point in stopping him. Lin knew he could probably convince management to give Gallinari what he wanted — but that would turn the Knicks into a buddy-buddy club. And that was never how dynasties were built.
He'd seen it happen before — too much sentiment, not enough balance.
So Lin nodded slowly.
"I get it, Danilo. You've earned the right to make that choice."
Gallinari looked surprised. "You're… not angry?"
"No problem, Danilo. I respect your decision," Lin Yi said quietly. "But listen — don't rush it. You can still extend your deal with the Knicks first, right? My advice: sign the extension, then request a trade. Don't go chasing a blank check from whoever waves the most cash."
Gallinari frowned slightly. "Wouldn't that make it harder for the Knicks to match salaries if a trade actually happens?"
Lin chuckled, reaching over to pat him on the head. "You really do love this team, huh. Don't worry about that. Once Shaq retires, the cap space situation will sort itself out. We'll have more flexibility than people think."
Salary matching wasn't even the real problem.
If Lin was being honest with himself, he had thought about trying to convince Gallinari to stay one more year. But deep down, he knew how it would end. A player like Danilo — good looks, skill, confidence — was bound to want his own spotlight. It was inevitable.
The Knicks weren't refusing to pay him because he wasn't worth it — they were doing it because they had to think long-term.
Building a dynasty meant tough decisions.
And with Lin's own contract renewal looming, management had to be careful. Around the league, rumors were already swirling about The Lin Yi Clause— how every Knicks move seemed to orbit around keeping their MVP happy.
If New York wanted to build sustainably, all the key signings had to be done before Lin's rookie deal expired. Once his extension kicked in, the Knicks would be paying luxury tax every single year.
James Dolan wasn't short on money, but the NBA didn't reward reckless spending — not yet, at least, not until the salary cap made a big jump.
When Lin thought about the team's future — about the Tyson Chandler's extension and the moves they needed to make — parting ways with Gallinari started to look like the right move for both sides.
They could use his trade value to bring in new talent, and Gallinari would finally get the chance to lead somewhere else.
Still, Lin sighed. "Honestly, Danilo, I'm really going to miss having you around."
Gallinari smirked. "Oh? Don't worry, Lin. I've already made peace with it — and I've found a few Suga mamas to help me through the pain."
Before he could finish, Lin kicked him gently across the aisle. "Get lost, Romeo."
Gallinari burst out laughing, rubbing his leg. "Alright, alright, I'll shut up!"
He turned back toward his seat, still chuckling. But as he settled by the window, his smile faded. The faint reflection of the cabin lights danced in the glass as he whispered under his breath, "Goodbye, New York."
Across the aisle, Lin watched him for a moment and sighed.
He made a mental note: once they were back in the city, he'd take Danilo out for a proper dinner — one last meal as teammates.
...
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