Nine straight games with 40 or more.
When Lin Yi reached that mark, fans online immediately got creative.
"So this is what happens when you're about to be a dad," one post read. "Man's stacking highlights now, so he has stories ready for the baby."
On TNT, Kenny Smith tried to cut through the usual chaos between Charles Barkley and Shaquille O'Neal.
"Hold on," Kenny said, raising his voice. "You two arguing again? The Knicks just won their twenty-fifth straight."
That part almost got lost in the noise.
After the New Year's Eve win over the Timberwolves, New York stood at 47 and 1. The conversation was no longer about whether they could chase the 72- 10 mark set by the Chicago Bulls. People were debating how far past it they might go.
At the Target Center, the scoreboard read 127 to 99. Minnesota walked off quietly. The only comfort for Wolves fans was that if Lin kept scoring 40 every night, at least their team would not be singled out as the one that stopped him.
After the game, Lin was surrounded. Over the nine-game stretch, he averaged 43.3 points on 55 percent shooting, 46.5 percent from three, and 98.5 percent at the line. He was not just scoring. He was doing it EFFICIENTLY.
When he first hit seven straight 40-point games, Karl Malone hinted that certain players around the league were chasing numbers. Even critics struggled to connect that to Lin.
"Stat-padding?" a fan wrote. "He's doing this in under 36 minutes most nights."
Another added, "If that's padding, then everyone should try it."
There were the usual extreme takes online.
"My Lin runs the league."
"He's right there with Jordan and Kobe."
"He dropped 86 once, remember that."
The 86-point game had become the trump card in every debate.
Privately, some around the league understood that Lin did push for numbers when the opportunity was there. But he was not hanging around in garbage time or manipulating fouls to inflate totals. The production came within the flow of real games. That mattered.
"If you can score in this league, why would you hold back?" one analyst said. "That's not a crime."
The praise from former greats carried more weight.
Hakeem Olajuwon said, "It is usually easier for big men to score inside, but high-volume scoring favors perimeter players. He changed my view a little. I would have loved to guard him in my prime. It would have been fun."
Patrick Ewing added, "His footwork in the post keeps improving. It feels like he absorbs things overnight. People said he lacked dominance. Now, when he decides to impose himself, the game shifts."
Then there was David Robinson.
"Some of the shots he takes do not make sense to me, to be honest with you," Robinson said with a laugh. "If he had come along earlier, I might have played a few more years just to see how that matchup would go."
Back on TNT, O'Neal shook his head.
"I already lost that bet to Chuck," he said, forcing a grin. "Now this kid's out here dropping forty every night. Makes me want to lace them up again."
It was said in jest, but the backing from four Hall of Fame centers pushed Lin's status higher. The almost in the almost best player in the modern era was starting to disappear.
Not everyone agreed.
Supporters of LeBron James pushed back online.
"LeBron could do nine straight, too. Ten if he wanted."
A reply came fast. "Then why doesn't he?"
"Because he cares about winning, not numbers."
The debate spiraled like it always did.
Then LeBron himself spoke.
"He's been incredible," LeBron said. "The efficiency stands out. He scores, but the team still flows. That balance is something I respect."
Some of his louder fans did not like the tone. They wanted a rivalry, not admiration.
What they did not see was the strategy behind it. LeBron understood timing. The Knicks were riding a 25-game streak and owning the headlines. Meanwhile, the Miami Heat were building something of their own.
By the second half of the 2012- 13 season, the Cosmic Heat had settled in. The Big Three were comfortable. The role players fit. The wins were stacking up quietly.
Let New York take the spotlight for now.
The playoffs would decide the rest.
For LeBron, only one thing mattered.
AN NBA TITLE.
. . .
While the buzz around the nine straight 40-point games was still building, Lin Yi kept his routine unchanged. He boarded the team flight and headed back to New York like it was any other road trip.
The Knicks had three days off before facing the Oklahoma City Thunder. After that, the league would shift its focus to the NBA All-Star Game in Houston.
At the league office, David Stern had every reason to be pleased. Lin's scoring streak had pushed ratings and headlines at the perfect time.
The commissioner had quietly worried that this year's All-Star weekend might lack a central storyline, especially after the debate surrounding Stephen Curry being voted into the starting lineup.
Some veterans grumbled. A few fan bases were annoyed. Stern, however, saw a bigger picture.
He was not just riding the Lin Yi wave, but he was equally encouraged by Curry's rise. The Golden State Warriors were playing an exciting brand of basketball, and Curry's style drew in younger fans.
With plans underway for the franchise's long-term future in the Bay Area, Stern understood the commercial upside. A dynamic guard who could shoot from anywhere was good for business.
Privately, he even thought about the storylines. Lin Yi and Curry had been partners-in-crime in college. Their battles had already grown into a near legend among fans. If Steph ever met Lin on the Finals stage, that would sell itself.
Still, Stern was careful. Promotion was necessary, but forcing a narrative was risky.
There was another issue on his mind. Lin's nine straight 40-point games had supercharged the MVP conversation. Too much, perhaps. Many around the league were already saying the race was over.
That was not ideal.
Stern preferred suspense. He preferred debate. If the award felt decided in January, it hurt engagement.
So in quiet moments, he found himself hoping the Miami Heat would surge and that LeBron James would raise his level again. LeBron's brand still mattered deeply to the league. Stern knew better than anyone how much had been invested over the years to position him as the face of a generation.
At the same time, somewhere in Oklahoma City, Kevin Durant was locked in on his own mission. If he had known the commissioner was mentally juggling Lin and LeBron, he might have said, "So I'm just background noise now?"
Durant had been circling, waiting for a statement game.
Stern let out a sharp sneeze.
Ah-choo.
He reached for a tissue and shook his head with a small smile.
"Maybe I am getting old," he muttered. "Might be time to start thinking about the next chapter."
The league, however, was very strong. And it was getting louder by the day.
. . .
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