Howard barely made it ten minutes in the first half before foul trouble sent him to the bench.
Without him, the Magic were in shambles. By halftime, they were down 36–60, and the scoreboard felt harsher than the boos.
Howard sat stiffly, jaw clenched. In his mind, he wasn't the problem—his teammates were.
Even I can't save this group… what am I supposed to do with them?
But the locker room mood wasn't exactly in his favor either. His teammates were getting tired of his tantrums. From their perspective, two of Howard's fouls on Lin Yi earlier were completely pointless. He had lunged when he didn't need to, twice. At some point, a team can only sigh so many times.
The Magic had no answer for the Knicks, and the broadcast team knew viewers were poised to change the channel. To keep things lively in China, CCTV's Sun Zhengping decided to step in:
"Alright, friends, let's do a quick giveaway. We have two pairs of Lin Yi's 'Death' series sneakers for halftime. Zhang, I'll say 'start,' you say 'stop.' Ready?"
Zhang Heli nodded cheerfully. "Start!"
The two stared in silence.
Sun Zhengping finally said, "…Stop!"
"Congratulations to this viewer from Taiyuan! And the second pair… also Taiyuan. Looks like Hubei fans are pretty lucky today!" Sun said.
The second half tipped off just as the comments were still rolling in.
Lin Yi knew he'd probably be done after three quarters, so he went straight back to the task at hand: leveling up his Diamond Ankle Breaker badge. That meant one thing—charge into the paint with a stick of dynamite and no hesitation.
Howard, guarding Lin again, felt his pride ignite. If he didn't show some dominance, people would really start seeing him as a joke.
He spread those trademark elbows wide, clamping down like a crab set on claiming territory.
And credit where it's due—Howard earned his DPOY. Back in the day, he'd taken down LeBron's Cavaliers for a reason.
Lin Yi respected that. On the court, he tightened his dribble, pushing even lower. Barkley nearly jumped out of his chair.
"Look at Lin! A 7-footer guy dribbling that low? Guards in the league should be embarrassed," Barkley said.
Kenny Smith corrected him, "Charles, Lin's a wing this season."
"Yeah, yeah," Barkley waved him off. "At that height, you forget sometimes."
Howard tracked Lin Yi carefully, retreating half a step, showing him the left. The classic angle defenders give right-handed players.
Lin didn't think twice. If you're giving me the lane, I'm taking it.
He snapped the ball from right to left and accelerated past Howard's hip. The other Magic players didn't even rotate. In their defense, the team ran a one-four scheme, and if Turkoglu could move laterally any faster, he'd have been a superstar years ago.
Howard gathered himself, sliding over to build a wall. It was genuinely great positioning.
It would've worked—
If Lin Yi weren't waiting for that exact moment.
As Howard stepped in, Lin's low dribble swung the ball back from his left hand to his right. Howard shifted ever so slightly.
That was all Lin needed.
He sent the ball cleanly between Howard's legs and glided around him like water slipping past a rock.
A perfect nutmeg.
Graceful, effortless. The crowd gasped. Even Howard froze.
Lin Yi floated up and finished the layup with a smooth hang time that felt unreal.
Howard stood there, speechless.
"Ho-ho-ho! Dwight just got barbecued!" Kenny Smith shouted.
Barkley laughed over the replay, "Look at these angle changes—one, two, three, four—Dwight didn't stand a chance."
Howard made a silent vow:
After this game, he was buying a hundred Lin Yi's jerseys and burning every single one.
It was brutal. Howard genuinely felt like he'd become the punchline of someone else's joke. The cheers inside Madison Square Garden weren't praise to him—they sounded more like needles, poking straight through his pride.
To be fair, if Lin Yi managed to pull off that kind of explosive first step, there weren't many big men in the league who could stay in front of him. And even Lin Yi knew he couldn't hit that level on every possession.
But after weeks under Tony's guidance, pushing the pace of his handle and hitting the wall over and over, he finally broke through it tonight.
Howard never stood a chance. His mentality was all over the place, while Lin Yi stayed laser-focused from start to finish.
…
In the end, the Knicks blew out the Magic86–114. Howard once again became the victim of his own reputation—he played just 22 minutes and finished with 6 points and 7 rebounds. Lin Yi, meanwhile, shot 9-for-21 and still dropped 30 points, 12 rebounds, and 8 assists. Statistically, he buried Howard again.
And the worst part? Most of those buckets came right on Howard's head.
"Why is Howard still the Defensive Player of the Year? Lin should file a complaint!"
"If we're talking pure defense, I don't think Tyson Chandler is any worse!"
"Fraudulent voting! Absolute fraud!"
Thankfully, Howard wasn't the type to scroll through burner accounts reading comments. If he did, the happy beast definitely wouldn't stay happy.
"You just have better teammates than me!" Howard said after the game, trying to salvage a little dignity.
But even his attempt at being tough came out soft. Lin Yi clapped him on the shoulder. "Dwight, my free throws are better than yours too. Honestly, I'm more accurate with my eyes closed."
Howard: "…"
He was furious—actually furious. Howard walked off the court swearing to himself that he was done with Orlando after this season.
All he needed, he thought, was a better roster around him. Then he'd prove to everyone that he was still Superman—still the guy other teams were willing to trade for a king.
As for Lin Yi? After crushing the Magic, he woke up the next morning feeling fresh and immediately dragged Tony Allen into another one-on-one workout.
Some habits never change.
...
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