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Chapter 517 - Mavericks vs Knicks End

Because of the tempo Lin Yi set, the Mavericks didn't really have a traditional big man they could lean on this season.

Looking up at the scoreboard, the question was unavoidable: were they really going to let Lin Yi keep bulldozing his way through the paint?

Amar'e Stoudemire could only grit his teeth. There wasn't much else he could do.

Now in his fourth year, Lin Yi had been improving steadily, and this season the league was starting to feel it. His dominance was built, possession by possession.

Stoudemire hadn't suffered any major injuries, but there was no denying that his explosiveness had declined year by year. Faced with that reality, the Mavericks were forced to send early help. And once they did, Lin Yi's decision to attack from the middle of the floor began to pay off.

The Knicks' shooters, quiet for most of the half, finally found daylight.

Marcus Morris caught the ball on the wing and let it fly.

Swish

The three-pointer gave the Knicks their first lead of the night. On the sideline, Markieff Morris jumped up, waving a towel and shouting for his brother.

Before halftime, Klay Thompson added two more threes—one from well beyond the arc, nearly eight meters out.

Deep threes had clearly become a Knicks trademark.

By the break, the score read 60–56. The Mavericks looked flat in the latter part of the second quarter, and no one felt it more than Stoudemire. He was used to being the one finishing above the rim. Tonight, he was the one getting overwhelmed.

Lin Yi hadn't exactly jumped over him, but when Lin took off, extending one arm high into the air, the difference in length and power became impossible to ignore. Stoudemire could only contest and hope.

Madison Square Garden was buzzing. Lin Yi's Magic Johnson–style passing had always drawn applause, but fans were even louder for his Shaq-like physicality.

Humans are always drawn to the physicality of games. It was in the blood.

At halftime, the broadcast cut to the TNT commentary booth.

Charles Barkley glanced at Shaquille O'Neal with a grin. Shaq nodded and said, "You can see it clearly—Lin took over in the second half of that quarter. The Mavericks have to adjust, or this gets ugly."

Kenny Smith jumped in with a laugh. "Too bad they can't even think about Hack-a-Lin. For the past three years, he's been the best free-throw shooter in the league."

Shaq shot him a look. "Hey, I was giving him credit. Why you gotta bring free throws into this?"

"Let's just not talk about that," Shaq added. "Then we can all stay friends."

Lin Yi also spoke with the courtside host during halftime. Asked why he only turned aggressive late in the second quarter, he answered calmly, "It was a tactical choice. I've said it before—we don't rely on just one guy. We play team basketball."

The host followed up with a few routine questions, and Lin answered each one before heading into the locker room.

After the break, the teams returned for the second half. Rick Carlisle pulled Stoudemire aside and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder.

"Amar'e," he said, "stay with it. Tough moments don't last forever."

Stoudemire nodded, jaw tight. He wasn't about to back down or make excuses. But if Lin Yi kept running him over, what would happen to his reputation?

Early in the third quarter, fueled by that resolve, Stoudemire managed to hold his ground on a few possessions.

Post-ups take a toll, though, and Lin Yi wasn't going to force it every time. He adjusted, leaning into his fadeaway jumper instead. Smooth, balanced, automatic.

Shot after shot fell cleanly through the net.

Lin Yi's steady scoring disrupted the Mavericks' defensive rhythm, and as the defense slipped, the offense followed. The two were always connected.

Dirk Nowitzki was showing his age, and Kyrie Irving—still only in his second year—looked uneven. This Mavericks roster had strengths but also flaws. Offensive droughts like this weren't new.

Irving's playmaking had improved under Jason Kidd's guidance, but on the floor, the Mavericks still lacked a true stabilizing presence.

After the Knicks went on a 4–12 run, Carlisle brought Kidd back in, hoping to steady things and keep pace.

By the fourth quarter, seeing that Stoudemire was starting to get a feel for the matchup, Carlisle made a call.

No more hiding him.

Stoudemire would guard Lin Yi straight up.

As a result, Lin Yi shifted gears again—without warning.

Amar'e Stoudemire wanted to say something. Anything.

But the words never came.

Lin Yi didn't give him time anyway.

Watching Lin Yi move—light on his feet, almost guard-like—was torture. Stoudemire could feel it in his knees. The message was clear: Lin Yi was entering his prime, and guarding him wasn't just difficult; it was exhausting in the most literal sense.

The Mavericks never found a way back into the game.

107–119.

When the buzzer sounded, Rick Carlisle exhaled and shook his head.

Lin Yi finished the night 14-for-21 from the field, 3-of-5 from deep, and a perfect 6-for-6 at the line. He closed with 37 points, 12 rebounds, 5 assists, and 3 blocks.

Not all points are created equal.

By constantly switching how he attacked—power, finesse, post-ups, face-ups—Lin Yi shattered the Mavericks' defensive rhythm in the second half.

And for the first time in a while, he felt it afterward.

Really felt it.

His legs were heavy. His shoulders ached. Everything hurt.

So this was what it felt like when scoring wasn't easy anymore.

Lin Yi looked up at the arena lights and let out a slow breath.

As more and more teams started drawing up game plans against the Knicks, one thing was obvious: this season was going to be equal parts punishment and satisfaction.

Still, after the win, Lin Yi felt more gratitude than anything else. All those hours in the gym over the summer—shoring up weaknesses, refining counters—had mattered. If he hadn't done that work, this kind of targeted defense would've been brutal.

. . .

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