Chris Webber couldn't help himself during the postgame show.
"You know," he joked, "some guys don't even last as long as Lin did getting that triple-double. That's ridiculous."
Anyway, back to basketball.
Against the Lakers, Lin Yi posted 22 points, 21 rebounds, and 18 assists, just two assists shy of a 20+ triple-double.
After the game, he turned to Chris Paul and half-jokingly said, "Chris, you're basically our Kobe out there."
"Loving someone so much you can't stop teasing them?" Paul muttered. "Give me a break. That's just trolling with extra steps."
Kobe, who bricked his way to 24 missed shots that night, refused to do any postgame interviews.
He wasn't angry at Lin Yi's performance. He was just fed up. This Lakers team gave him zero hope.
If they somehow made it out of the Western Conference this season, Kobe figured it would take a miracle.
Before the season began, many people were optimistic about the Kobe–Nash partnership — two MVPs joining forces. But the reality? Nash's defensive struggles were a gaping hole, and even the league's best defender couldn't cover for him.
After the game, when Nash chatted with Mike D'Antoni, the coach teased him, "Steve, you really should've joined Lin this summer. Look at this ring — championship-grade craftsmanship."
Nash just gave him a wry smile.
D'Antoni, once known for his easygoing nature, now carried himself differently. The hesitation was gone, replaced by a quiet confidence.
Winning an NBA championship — is it really that hard?
Sometimes it's not, as Mengke Bateer and Sun Yue could tell you.
But then there's Malone, Stockton, Iverson, Nash, Carter… guys who chased it all their lives and never caught it.
For Nash, tonight's loss just added another bitter layer.
He joined the Lakers hoping to chase one last dream — to finally wear a ring before calling it a career.
But fate wasn't kind. Between a roster that made no sense and the Buss family's brewing power struggle, the Lakers were sinking into a mess that would last for years.
After the game, Lin Yi, who now held the NBA record for the fastest triple-double, found himself surrounded by reporters again.
He felt a twinge of guilt. In another timeline, this was supposed to be Jeremy Lin's season — Linsanity was meant to light up the league. There was even supposed to be a documentary about it.
But now? Forget documentaries. Lin Yi's rise had completely overshadowed it.
The 86-point game was still fresh in people's minds, and now this first-quarter triple-double was redefining what fans thought was possible.
Jeremy Lin's story didn't create the same frenzy this time, but Lin Yi didn't see that as a bad thing.
He even remembered that Jeremy's real-life documentary drew plenty of criticism — people thought he should've focused more on basketball instead of marketing himself, especially since he wasn't even an All-Star then.
Back then, the Chinese basketball market was starving for a new idol.
But now? Fans were spoiled. Lin Yi had them eating five-star meals every night — we're talking about caviars, lobsters, and scallops.
Even with Yao Ming nearing retirement, his legacy continues to resonate deeply with fans. And Yi Jianlian's solid play in Washington gave them something else to cheer about, so the spotlight on Jeremy Lin dimmed naturally.
On February 11th, after crushing the Lakers at home, the Knicks flew straight to the frozen north — Minnesota.
The Knicks won again, 118–107, proving that while the city was cold, it still couldn't freeze out this red-hot Knicks team.
After that, the team finally earned two well-deserved days of rest.
...
On February 13th, the day before Valentine's, Klay Thompson rolled his ankle during practice.
Typical of the soon-to-be "Splash Brothers," his injury was in the exact same spot as Curry's.
Still, Klay wasn't fragile—he was actually one of the more durable guys on the team. The real problem was that he'd been pushing himself too hard lately.
It wasn't hard to see why. The Knicks had Lin Yi, the ultimate workaholic, who treated every training session like a life-or-death battle. Klay didn't want to fall behind, so he upped his own workload to match.
In a way, Lin Yi's model student persona indirectly contributed to this injury.
During the long grind of an NBA season, most players know better than to overtrain. The goal is to maintain your form—work on timing, execution, and chemistry with teammates. But Lin Yi? He was the exception to every rule.
Klay, still a rookie, had taken Lin's routine as gospel. He pushed himself past his limits… and his ankle paid the price.
It was that kind of year. Every team in the shortened season was battling some kind of injury bug. The Knicks, who had been lucky so far, finally joined the group chat. Though, to be fair, the rest of the league probably wanted to kick them right back out.
Compared to other teams falling apart physically, the Knicks were still the picture of health.
Fortunately, Klay's injury wasn't serious. The team doctor said it was a mild sprain—about a week's rest and he'd be fine. He even added that Klay could play through it if Coach D'Antoni needed him.
When D'Antoni heard that, he nearly blew a gasket.
"What do you mean, play through it?" he said. "You think I'm that kind of coach? Send him home to rest. A week, two weeks—whatever it takes. Just get him healthy."
So Klay was sent home immediately.
Later that day, Lin Yi stopped by to check in. He knew this injury didn't exist in his memory of how things should have gone, and he didn't want to see Klay turn into another injury-prone star down the road.
"Klay," Lin said, "you've got to control your workload. Look at Chris—his training volume is scientific. He knows when to push and when to pull back."
Most rookies didn't. Markieff Morris, for instance, had already hit the rookie wall—his numbers were dropping fast. It was normal.
Rookies tend to go full throttle at the start of the season, then crash when fatigue and scouting reports catch up. That's the rookie wall in a nutshell.
Klay scratched his head. "But Lin… how come you train so hard and never seem tired?"
Lin looked up dramatically, searching for an excuse.
"That's an illusion," he said, keeping a straight face. "I only do it for the cameras. If I can rest, I'll rest."
Klay blinked. He wasn't buying it. Still, he decided not to argue. Lin was a freak—talented, driven, and ridiculously disciplined. Try to match him, and you'd break before he did.
The sprain would sideline Klay for three to five games. It bothered him; he was in the middle of two battles—one for Rookie of the Year against Kyrie Irving, and another for Sixth Man of the Year against James Harden.
"I'll be smarter about it next time," Klay promised. "No more overdoing it during the season."
Lin grinned and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder before giving him a big-ol-bear hug. "Good. Learn from it. Longevity wins in the end."
"I...ca-n't...brea-the," Klay whispered before Lin put him down.
Lin hung around for a while before leaving.
He was relieved—Klay wasn't the type to ignore advice. But Lin didn't know that Barkley's usual bad-luck commentary was still hovering in the air, waiting to strike.
...
On Valentine's Day, the Knicks traveled to Toronto.
Midway through the second quarter, during a fast break, Billups suddenly went down clutching his leg.
Lin Yi froze on the bench. The moment he saw the pain on Billups' face, he knew—it was that injury. In his previous life, Billups had suffered a devastating tear around this time. It was the injury that ended his career.
Even after rehab, Billups was never the same.
This season, Lin had brought Chris Paul in partly to reduce Billups' workload, but the brutal, compact schedule was catching up with everyone. No amount of rotation could fully protect players from fatigue.
The Knicks won 105–97, but there was no celebration afterward. The locker room was silent.
The MRI confirmed Lin's fear—Billups had a torn Achilles and would be out for the season.
Fans flooded the Knicks' website with messages of support. Former teammates sent encouragement on Twitter.
It was the first time Lin Yi had seen one of his teammates ruled out for the year.
He had always been the healthy one—the guy whose presence seemed to keep the team afloat. But even that luck couldn't hold forever.
When the Knicks returned to New York, Lin took a few teammates to visit Billups in the hospital.
Surprisingly, the veteran was in good spirits. He was already cracking jokes and cheering the team on before his surgery. The visit hit everyone hard—if Billups could stay positive through this, none of them had an excuse to sulk.
...
On February 15th, the Knicks hosted the Kings at Madison Square Garden for the second game of a back-to-back.
The last time the two teams met, New York had embarrassed Sacramento by 69 points—a loss that sent the Kings into a tailspin. They hadn't won since.
With Billups out, D'Antoni planned to bring McGrady back into the rotation, though T-Mac didn't play that night.
Even on tired legs, the Knicks cruised.
Rookie Tristan Thompson, however, looked completely lost. He glanced around the roaring Garden, watching the energy, the lights, the fans chanting Lin Yi's name—and couldn't help but feel bitter.
In his head, this was supposed to be his world.
Having tasted life in New York during his brief time he played against the Knicks, going back to Sacramento felt like exile. To him, it was better to warm the Knicks' bench than to start for the Kings.
By the final buzzer, the scoreboard read 88–127.
Another blowout.
After the game, Barkley sighed on TNT, "The Knicks have been through some rough luck lately, but somehow, their core guys are still standing. It's a tough stretch ahead, but if they keep this mindset, they'll be fine. They've got to keep fighting."
Talk about jinxing.
...
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