Back then, the 72–10 season by the Chicago Bulls became something close to untouchable for a lot of fans.
Now the Knicks were right there, brushing up against it.
After the introductions at Madison Square Garden, Lin Yi stood beside Chris Paul and glanced at the crowd.
"You ever think about this?" Lin Yi said. "Years from now, kids who watched us… maybe they look at us the same way we looked at those guys."
Paul let out a slow breath.
"I grew up watching Michael Jordan," he said. "Didn't matter what people said about him. On the court, he was… different."
He shook his head slightly.
"Seventy-two wins. Back then, that didn't even feel real."
He paused, then looked around the arena.
"And now we're here."
There was something strange about it. The season hadn't been easy. They had taken losses, fought through tough games, and dealt with stretches that could have gone either way.
But zoom out, and it felt like they never really stopped moving forward.
Relentless. Controlled. Always in command.
That night, the Garden was on edge.
Every fan was standing. Every voice was loud.
Patrick Ewing had already said it earlier. This Knicks team, in his eyes, looked even more dominant than the Bulls teams he faced.
The lineups flashed on the big screen.
Knicks:
Tyson Chandler
Marcus Morris
Lin Yi
Danny Green
Chris Paul.
Pacers:
Tyler Hansbrough
David West
Paul George
Gerald Green
Darren Collison.
. .
"1, 2"
"SHOWTIME!"
"1, 2"
"SHOWTIME!"
"1, 2"
"SHOWTIME!"
On TNT, Charles Barkley leaned forward, voice steady for once.
"The Knicks are Lin Yi," he said.
Shaquille O'Neal and Kenny Smith both turned to him.
Barkley continued.
"Yeah, it's a five-man game. Yeah, they've got talent everywhere."
He nodded toward the screen.
"But you still end up saying it. The Knicks… that's Lin Yi."
No one argued.
Because it felt true.
. .
Courtside, Yao Ming and Tracy McGrady sat quietly.
They had their own run once. Twenty-two straight wins in Houston.
It never lasted the way they hoped.
Injuries always got in the way.
Now they were watching something different unfold.
. . .
The ball went up.
Lin Yi tipped it cleanly.
Paul brought it up the floor.
As he crossed half court, Paul silently thought.
Lin... you are already a legend.
For a player like Paul, that wasn't easy to say.
He had always led his own teams. Always carried his own weight.
But playing next to Lin Yi changed the equation.
At first, it bothered him a little. That feeling of leaning on someone else.
Now, he saw it differently.
So what if I am? Paul reminded himself. You still have to be good enough to keep up.
Plenty of players shared the floor with greatness. Not everyone could match it.
Paul set things in motion.
The timing was sharp.
Lin Yi caught the ball at the wing, with Paul George in front of him.
A couple of dribbles.
Low, quick, controlled.
George stayed in front, eyes locked in.
Then the ball shifted.
A sudden pull, a sharp cross.
For a split second, George lost the angle.
Shammgod
Lin Yi was already past him.
Help came late.
Tyler Hansbrough stepped up, bracing for contact.
He remembered this feeling. Years ago, college, big games, big moments.
Now it felt different.
Lin Yi didn't slow down.
Hansbrough wrapped him up, trying to stop the drive.
Didn't matter.
Lin Yi powered through, arm extending, body still moving forward.
The ball slammed through.
The whistle came right after.
The arena exploded.
"MVP! MVP! MVP!"
Hansbrough sat on the floor, staring up.
"…What is that?" he muttered.
Lin Yi barely reacted. He turned, gave a roar, then thumped his chest.
Paul jogged over, grinning.
They bumped fists.
Lin Yi smiled. "Keep them coming."
. .
Lin Yi stepped to the line. The arena quieted for a moment as the replay rolled on the big screen.
Watching it, Shaquille O'Neal let out a low breath. "Hakeem wasn't exaggerating. Put this kid in the '90s, and he's right there with the top centers. Easy."
A pause, then a smirk.
"Still be Big Four, though. Someone got to make way."
No explanation needed. Everyone knew how he felt about David Robinson.
.
Swish.
Lin Yi knocked it down.
3–0, Knicks.
Indiana came down on their first possession. Paul George tried to answer, pulling up over Lin Yi, but it came up short.
The rebound dropped into Lin Yi's hands. He turned, found Chris Paul, and the pace changed instantly.
Paul crossed over Darren Collison with a quick shift, eyes already scanning ahead. He didn't rush it, just read the floor like he always did.
Point guard basics. See everything, decide early.
You could always tell the difference. Ten assists didn't always mean control.
Paul spotted Lin Yi slipping behind the defense. One bounce, perfectly timed.
Lin Yi caught it in stride and finished clean at the rim.
Six seconds. That was all it took.
5–0.
"Those two really got serious chemistry," Charles Barkley said, shaking his head. "The Pacers can't give them space like that."
"That's suicide."
Somewhere else, David Stern sat back in his chair, watching it unfold.
In hindsight, maybe letting Paul land in New York wasn't his best decision.
How do you break this team up?
How could he unmake the monster he created?
Money wasn't the issue. For most owners, the luxury tax hurt. For James Dolan, spending was the point.
Stern exhaled and waved the thought off.
Two more years, then it's Adam's problem.
He allowed himself a small smile. If this was the league he handed over, no one could complain.
Back on the floor, Indiana tried again.
Collison and David West ran the pick and roll. West got his look at the elbow.
Clean shot.
Clang.
Marcus Morris put a body on his man, Lin Yi grabbed the board, and pushed it himself.
Paul came over, calling for it. Lin Yi handed it off, then cut straight down the middle.
Paul caught it and, without even setting his feet, tossed it high toward the rim.
Lin Yi was already there.
Hansbrough backpedaled, glanced up, and that was enough.
There was nothing to contest.
Slam.
Not even a minute gone. Seven straight from Lin Yi.
"He's not human tonight," Kenny Smith said, half-laughing. "He looks ready to reap souls."
Indiana had a plan coming in. Several, actually.
Most fail.
Young teams feel it quickly when things start slipping. You could see it in Indiana's body language. Shoulders dropping, rotations half a step late.
On paper, it was only seven points.
On the court, it felt like he could get fifty without trying.
Maybe more.
. . .
..
.
There was no tension left by the fourth quarter.
121–98. Knicks.
April 14, 2013.
Win number 72.
Lin Yi sat back in the locker room afterward, toweling off, a thought crossing his mind.
"Kobe retired on April 14 too, didn't he?"
Kobe Bryant.
He shook his head lightly. Funny how dates line up sometimes.
No time to dwell on it.
Back-to-back tomorrow.
Charlotte here in MSG.
Win that, and it's history.
With four games left, no one was doubting this team anymore.
. . .
"I think Scottie's right," Barkley said later on air. "The only real question now is whether they finish the job."
The playoffs were right there.
The Knicks had owned the regular season. No debate.
But that alone never meant much.
It always came down to the last stretch.
Could they carry this all the way through?
. . .
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