To Griffin, Lin Yi wasn't just an opponent—he was the rival he could never quite outrun.
Back in the NCAA, Blake Griffin was a force of nature. Fans adored him, analysts praised him, and scouts circled him like sharks. He walked with the confidence of someone who knew he was the biggest name in the building.
In college, all he had to do was flex a bit, and waves of girls would scream his name.
"There's no one left who can challenge you here. Go to the NBA—you'll shake the whole country!" people told him.
And honestly, Griffin believed it.
But at some point, he started noticing a change. Whenever people talked about him, they always mentioned another name alongside his—a name he was tired of hearing.
Lin Yi.
He still remembers that night. He was ready to lead the Sooners to steamroll the Wildcats… when a skinny Chinese big man stepped in front of him. Lin Yi smiled in that relaxed, almost disarming way—but Blake paid him no mind.
That slim kid thinks he can guard me?
The scene snapped back to Madison Square Garden.
This was the Clippers' final game of the 2011–12 season, and the league had mischievously scheduled them against the Knicks.
Before tip-off, when Griffin noticed no one on his team wanted to pick up Lin Yi, he immediately volunteered.
Even last night, after a night out with non-NBA friends—who had teasingly asked him whether he or Lin Yi was better—Blake raised an eyebrow and replied with casual confidence, "Maybe some guys fear Lin, but not me. We train together all the time. Sometimes he gets the better of me, sometimes I get him back."
His confidence came from their summer one-on-one sessions. Against Lin Yi, Blake felt that aside from shooting, he wasn't outmatched.
Sure, Lin Yi had bulked up—quite a bit, actually—but so what?
So tonight, right after Lin Yi tipped the ball to the Knicks on the opening jump, Griffin sprinted at him with that eager, slightly reckless energy of his.
On commentary, Barkley noted, "Lin and Blake go way back. They were the top contenders for the number-one pick."
Kenny Smith added, "Blake's averaging over 20 and 10 this season, but in terms of leading a team, he's nowhere close to what Lin's doing."
Plenty of Clippers fans still wonder what their team would look like if their front office had made different decisions back then.
And for Griffin, that was exactly the kind of chatter he didn't want to hear.
Even after the iconic All-Star dunk contest battle in L.A., Griffin took heat. Many believed McGee deserved to face Lin Yi in the final instead of him.
To prove he wasn't inferior, Griffin had thrown himself into training. No shortcuts. No excuses.
Maybe you're impressive, he thought, but I'm not scared of you.
On the court, a fired-up Griffin spread his arms wide as Lin Yi caught a pass from McGrady.
The Knicks spaced into their classic 1-4 set.
Lin Yi felt it was time to remind this stubborn friend that the chase had flipped.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
He dribbled through his legs, shifting rhythm—then snapped into a heavy crossover to his left.
Under Lin Yi's constant changes in pace, Griffin felt a sudden, terrifying looseness in his ankles.
How… how is he moving like this?
The more Blake watched Lin Yi tonight, the more surreal it felt.
The dazzling footwork caught Griffin off balance, and Lin Yi's explosive first step sent him stumbling.
The moment Griffin's legs gave way, Lin Yi cut inside—looking every bit like the king of Madison Square Garden.
Klay Thompson shot up from the bench, towel already spinning.
Lin Yi took three long strides into the paint. DeAndre Jordan rushed over, arms outstretched, but by the time Jordan began falling back to the ground, Lin Yi was still climbing.
Reverse layup?
No.
Reverse dunk.
Slam.
The Garden erupted.
Lin Yi's first possession lit a fire under Madison Square Garden.
"MVP!"
"MVP!"
"MVP!"
Twenty thousand fans rose to their feet, the sound rolling through the arena like a wave. That dunk—later ranked among Lin Yi's top 50—left DeAndre Jordan staring blankly at the rim and Griffin pushing himself off the floor.
Paul and Tyson, both suited up on the sideline, clapped along with the crowd. Griffin, meanwhile, finally back on his feet, looked like a man questioning all his life choices at once.
He couldn't help thinking… it was always like this.
Every time he improved and felt ready to challenge Lin Yi, something happened. Some new move, new trick, new level—leaving Griffin the one getting put on a poster.
Lin Yi flashed that familiar half-smile, and Griffin caught sight of the 2010–11 championship banner swaying gently above the court.
There was no draft inside the arena, but that banner might as well have been waving just to spite him.
And for the first time tonight, Griffin felt the gap widening again.
One possession doesn't prove everything—sure, but as the game went on, he realized that the opening burst wasn't a fluke.
Lin Yi's first step was ridiculous tonight.
Griffin had planned to cap the season by throwing down a dunk or putback over Lin Yi—some kind of final statement.
Instead, he found himself becoming the backdrop again.
At one point, he even spotted Kendall in the crowd, giving him a disappointed look. But honestly, that wasn't the real issue.
The real issue was that deep down, Griffin knew Lin Yi wasn't wrong.
You're working hard, Lin Yi had once told him, but I'm working harder.
So what could he use to close the gap?
His short g, which people joked about?
Or that 30-percent three-point percentage?
…
Final score of the 2011–12 regular-season finale: Knicks 124, Clippers 90.
New York locked in their 60th win of the year.
Lin Yi checked out after three quarters.
In 30 minutes, he shot 12-for-20, went 3-for-6 from deep, a perfect 7-for-7 at the line, and finished with 34 points, 14 rebounds, and 10 assists.
Griffin put up 16 and 12—but it felt hollow.
When the buzzer sounded, he stood there with his hands on his hips, staring at the scoreboard. He wasn't ashamed to admit it—he was jealous.
Because for the Clippers, the season was over. For the Knicks, it was just beginning.
In commentary, Barkley practically jumped out of his seat.
"Big congrats to the Knicks—and to Lin Yi! Since Oscar Robertson, we've finally seen another player average a triple-double for an entire season!"
Kenny Smith added, "And don't forget the 33 triple-doubles he recorded—another mark we haven't seen matched since the Big O!"
The Garden roared again, and Griffin could only exhale, wondering how many more seasons he'd spend chasing a shadow named Lin Yi.
Basketball was cruel sometimes.
...
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