At this year's Media Day, following Lin Yi's suggestion, the Knicks' core photoshoot featured Tyson Chandler, Lin Yi, Yao Ming, Klay, and Paul.
If Klay hadn't been holding him down, Paul probably would've found an excuse to skip the shoot altogether. They both looked like kids standing next to these giants, and Klay wasn't going to suffer alone.
As soon as Lin Yi walked in, cameras immediately locked onto him. His muscle definition was sharper than before, and the buzz cut gave him a noticeably mature presence.
During the Bahamas training camp, Lin Yi had even talked Yao Ming into buzzing his hair as well. By the time the season rolled around, nearly the entire Knicks roster had either buzz cuts or shaved heads. Lined up together, they looked less like a basketball team and more like a group that nobody wanted to mess with.
A few reporters were visibly cautious during interviews, choosing their words carefully, as if worried they might accidentally offend someone twice their size.
What annoyed Lin Yi, though, was something else entirely.
When it came time for questions, reporters seemed strangely hesitant around him. Instead of asking about the Knicks' goals for the season or his own ambitions, most of them fixated on his summer training—or his relationship with Olsen.
This was not how he imagined it going.
Weren't they supposed to ask about the championship?
As the interview session was winding down and still no one had brought it up, Lin Yi finally took matters into his own hands. He looked at an ESPN reporter nearby and said lightly,
"Hey, aren't you curious about the Knicks' goals for the new season?"
She blinked, clearly caught off guard, then smiled.
"Well… are you going to tell me?"
"Of course," Lin Yi replied without hesitation.
There was a brief pause.
Both of them waited.
Realizing what had happened, the reporter quickly adjusted and raised her recorder.
"Alright then—what are the Knicks' goals for the new season?"
Lin Yi nodded once, expression steady.
"The championship," he said. "That's the only goal."
The reporter paused for a beat, surprised by how direct it was. After making sure he wasn't joking, she followed up.
"But the Heat, Mavericks, and Spurs have all strengthened their rosters. A lot of people aren't very optimistic about the Knicks this year."
Lin Yi shrugged.
"People said the same thing back in 2010–11," he replied calmly. "We've never needed to be favorites. Stronger opponents just give us more motivation."
That answer rippled through the media crowd.
Lin Yi wasn't known for bold declarations, and the fact that he'd said it so plainly caught people off guard. Some reporters even exchanged looks, wondering if they'd just missed something important.
In reality, the skepticism around the Knicks had little to do with Lin Yi—and more to do with perception.
On paper, the roster didn't scream SUPERTEAM.
Tyson Chandler, who many believed should've won Defensive Player of the Year in 2011–12, had only made the All-Defensive First Team due to the league's balancing tendencies. Yet anyone who watched closely knew that Team USA's defense in the London Olympics owed a lot to him. Purely on the defensive end, he wasn't far off from the league's most celebrated big men.
More importantly, his attitude and professionalism were unquestioned.
Add Klay, Yao Ming, and Paul into the mix, and if everyone stayed healthy, the Knicks realistically had five or six All-Star–level players.
This wasn't Lin Yi talking big.
Still, after failing to repeat as champions last season—and without pulling off any headline-grabbing offseason moves—the prevailing opinion among analysts was that the Knicks had taken a step back.
Lin Yi heard the noise.
He just didn't agree with it.
In ESPN's preseason power rankings, the Knicks were slotted fourth—behind the Mavericks, the Spurs, and the Heat.
Lin Yi actually thought that was perfect.
It felt a lot like the 2010–11 season. Back then, the Knicks weren't the favorites either, and winning the title had dramatically elevated his standing around the league. If they could do it again this year, it was easy to imagine what would follow: regardless of stylistic debates, Lin Yi would become the undisputed face of the league in terms of reputation and influence.
More importantly, the Knicks still weren't viewed as a superteam.
That mattered.
In MVP voting, perception counted for more than people liked to admit. The reason certain stars had managed back-to-back MVPs in the past wasn't just numbers—it was narrative. Drafted core, organic growth, no obvious shortcut.
Right now, the Knicks fit that image.
In most people's eyes, New York was a clear two-star team: Lin Yi and Paul. Everything else was support, not star power.
Quietly putting up numbers while staying under the radar? That wasn't a bad deal at all.
The ESPN reporter circled back with another question.
"Do you plan to push for a third straight MVP?"
Lin Yi answered without hesitation.
"Of course, it's a special achievement, and I won't shy away from chasing it," he said. "But the team always comes first."
It was a textbook response.
Because he was very clear about one thing: the Knicks had only one path this season—winning the championship.
The future was becoming harder to predict. If they couldn't lay the groundwork for a dynasty now, history had already shown what could happen. Waiting until everything was perfect often meant waiting too long.
Lin Yi wasn't at his absolute peak yet. But if he waited until he was, the window might already be closing.
In his own words, a career—like a story—needed momentum. It had to be compelling from the start, not something people lost patience with halfway through.
Media Day comments spread quickly across the country.
Supporters felt energized. Skeptics shook their heads. And Lin Yi's critics quietly circled the calendar—because if the Knicks fell short, they'd finally have their opening.
On TNT, Charles Barkley offered a measured take.
"On paper, the strongest team is still Dallas," he said. "The Spurs just won a title and might add Kirilenko. Miami's addressed some of its weaknesses, too. The Knicks? They've got to take it one game at a time."
Shaq and Kenny Smith both stared at him.
Wasn't Barkley supposed to be the biggest Lin Yi supporter on television?
But Barkley hadn't flipped sides. He was just being honest. Around the league, teams had spent the summer upgrading aggressively. The Knicks had brought in Yao Ming and added a rookie—solid moves, but not headline-grabbers.
From a purely analytical standpoint, New York didn't add any clear advantage.
Of course, knowing Barkley, it was also possible he was intentionally downplaying them—hoping to reverse-jinx everyone else.
. . .
On the 2nd, the Knicks boarded a flight to China, where they would play preseason games against the Wizards and the Rockets.
The season was about to begin.
. . .
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