Lin Yi had never been the type to hesitate. It wasn't because of any bulls**t astrological sign—it was simply who he was. If Thibodeau wanted to use Noah to grind him down, then Lin Yi didn't mind flipping the script and breaking Thibodeau's plan first.
Out of the timeout, the Knicks stuck with their 1-4 spread, letting Lin Yi go at Noah again. Noah's energy was admirable, but Lin Yi had been forged through too many battles to be bothered by persistence alone.
Tyson Chandler had learned that long ago. He still remembered their one-on-one duels: whenever Lin Yi failed to score, his next attempt came back twice as fierce. Chandler had once described him as a tireless beast—whether he was getting hit or doing the hitting, Lin Yi seemed to enjoy both sides of the fight.
Back at Davidson, he and Curry would go one-on-one for entire afternoons. In high-level sports, obsession isn't a flaw—it's fuel. Without that edge, would Jordan have clawed his way back from setback after setback? Would Kobe have kept firing after missing twenty shots in a row, then retired with a night full of 28 stubborn misses?
The more Noah clung to him tonight, the more alive Lin Yi felt. Larry Bird once bragged that he'd sometimes avoid taking shots that were too easy.
Lin Yi wasn't about to do something that silly.
Easy points? Take them.
Hard points? Take those too.
By the end of the first quarter, he already had 25. D'Antoni watched him from the sideline, breathing heavily, sweat dripping. The Bulls' defense had actually been solid, which only made Lin Yi's output feel even more punishing. The more measured version of D'Antoni didn't love seeing such a load on his star in a regular-season game.
But he didn't try to stop him either. D'Antoni knew the look—once Lin Yi hit that rhythm, pulling him back only made things worse. Better to support him and draw up cleaner, smarter actions around him.
Across the court, Thibodeau was starting to feel uneasy. Ever since Lin Yi casually walked up during the timeout and asked about the United Center scoring record, Thibodeau couldn't shake the feeling that the kid was actually going for it.
And with the way Lin Yi kept attacking? There was no way Thibodeau would believe this had nothing to do with the record. Lin Yi wasn't exactly famous for holding grudges back; he was famous for delivering them.
To make things worse, every time Lin Yi scored, he'd glance over and flash Thibodeau a polite little smile.
Thibodeau suddenly recalled an old story from the '80s-Jordan's rookie season. Bird was asking around the Bulls personnel, "What's the scoring record in this arena?"
The man did it for the fun of the game.
Bird and McHale combined for 35 points and 28 rebounds before sitting. Only then did the Bulls dare play Jordan again.
That memory made Thibodeau hesitate… but he still didn't want to discount Noah's defensive effort. And in his mind, there was no chance Lin Yi could keep this level up for more than half. Stubborn defender versus stubborn scorer—it always came down to who cracked first.
…
Five minutes into the second quarter, Lin Yi checked back in. To maximize spacing, D'Antoni surrounded him with Motiejunas, Battier, Klay, and Paul—four shooters ready to punish any help defense.
Meanwhile, the Bulls put out Noah, Gibson, Deng, Hamilton, and Rose. Hamilton, recently waived by the Pistons and picked up by Chicago, wasn't the star he used to be, but he still played hard and defended well. A reliable 2-and-D piece.
Thibodeau's plan was obvious: drag the Knicks into a long night and let fatigue do the work.
But…
"No way. Again?" Thibodeau muttered as he watched the Knicks line up in the same 1-4 spread. No new wrinkles. No adjustments. Just Lin Yi, one-on-one again.
And then—boom.
Lin Yi cut clean past Noah and detonated another dunk at the rim.
Bless the era of reinforced hoops—if Shaq hadn't forced the league to strengthen the rims years ago, Chicago might've been replacing hardware by now.
As Lin Yi landed, he shot Thibodeau another grin—almost like posting a live reaction JPG straight from the court.
Thibodeau could only stare back, speechless.
The broadcast camera captured the moment perfectly: Lin Yi, confident and smiling; Thibodeau, tight-lipped and deeply regretting every defensive decision he'd made that night.
...
By halftime, Lin Yi had already poured in 40 points.
During the break, a courtside reporter stopped him for a quick interview and went straight to the point, asking what exactly he'd said to Thibodeau during that first-quarter timeout.
"I just asked Coach Thibodeau what the scoring record is here," Lin Yi replied, calm as ever.
The response earned him a wave of boos from the United Center… but it didn't take long for the home crowd to realize the uncomfortable truth: with 40 at the half, breaking the arena record was absolutely on the table tonight.
Commentators across different broadcasts lit up the topic immediately.
Kenny Smith said, "I wonder if Larry Bird's watching this. There's a kid out there doing a pretty good impression of him."
O'Neal laughed, shaking his head. "Kenny, this isn't an impression. Lin's just genuinely ticked off by Joakim tonight."
Barkley shrugged. "Shaq, I don't think he's that petty. Not everyone needs to shove a guy after a dunk to prove a point… I just think he's sending a message to Thibodeau: if you really believe Noah can stop me, I'll prove he can't."
When the third quarter began, every Lin Yi touch was met with boos. Bulls fans clearly felt he was being a little too bold. Lin Yi answered them the cleanest way possible—bucket after bucket.
Noah, who had vowed to "teach him a lesson," never managed to deliver the punishment he promised. Instead, Lin Yi kept schooling him—on dunks, on blocks, on footwork, on everything.
Thibodeau, to be fair, wasn't entirely wrong. Late in the third quarter, Lin Yi's energy finally dipped, and his legs weren't as lively as they had been earlier.
But the Bulls had overlooked something important: the Knicks weren't a one-man show anymore. They were a two-engine team.
Paul seamlessly took over the offense, and having worked himself on the defense, he made Derrick Rose's night as unpleasant as possible. Chicago's entire system leaned heavily on Rose's ability to break down defenses, and once fatigue set in, their offense sputtered.
The Knicks took advantage, stringing together a strong run. With Lin Yi no longer forced into isolation, he and Paul connected on a few backdoor cuts and alley-oops, pushing the momentum further.
Near the end of the third quarter, Lin Yi stepped to the line for two free throws. He knocked down one, missed the second, and that single point was enough—he'd set a new scoring record at the United Center.
58 points.
As they walked back, Paul punched Lin Yi lightly on the knee. "Tell me you didn't miss that on purpose."
Lin Yi, exhausted and drenched in sweat, looked wronged. He was dead tired—missing a free throw at that point was practically expected.
He rested the entire fourth quarter, but it didn't matter. The Knicks cruised with a 91–70 lead heading into the final period, and Lin Yi's 58 stood unchallenged. After the final buzzer, his name was already dominating headlines across every major sports outlet.
...
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