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Chapter 626 - No Lin Yi

There was still some time before Lin Yi returned to the team.

The New York Knicks finished the preseason with 4 wins and 3 losses ahead of the new season. Lin Yi's absence was noticeable, but the defending champions treated the games more like controlled experiments than real contests.

One night, a starter rested, the next night another rotation piece sat out. D'Antoni rotated lineups heavily, almost as if he was running his own version of Don Nelson's system, only with more restraint.

In the New York derby against the Brooklyn Nets, the Knicks launched 51 three-pointers in a single game. It looked less like a preseason matchup and more like a shooting drill stretched into forty-eight minutes.

The Nets were left chasing possession after possession, unable to match the volume or rhythm. By the end, even their bench looked drained from the constant sprinting.

Around the league, the Knicks still opened the season as the top-ranked team in most projections.

Right behind them, the Dallas Mavericks surged into second place. They went undefeated in the preseason, but what stood out was not just the record. The balance was different now. The offense and defense actually aligned.

Irving's role on this Mavericks roster felt more controlled, closer to a system where he could decide tempo rather than force everything alone. When possessions stalled, the creation duties no longer belonged only to Dirk Nowitzki. The burden shifted more evenly, especially in late shot clock situations.

Lin Yi considered them the clearest threat heading into the season.

Not because one player could change everything, but because the structure around that player finally made sense.

DeAndre Jordan gave them vertical pressure and paint protection.

Gerald Wallace stabilized the perimeter defense with physical pressure and smart rotations. The roster no longer bent under pressure the way previous versions had.

What surprised Lin Yi most was DeAndre Jordan's free-throw improvement.

In the preseason, he reached nearly 70 percent from the line. It was not a small jump. It pointed to repetition and coaching details that had often been ignored in earlier years.

It also reinforced a simple truth around the league. Some flaws were not permanent. Some just stayed uncorrected for too long.

The Los Angeles Lakers had already entered the Scott era. After Dwight Howard left for Houston, Jim Buss pushed a direction built around volume scoring and individual output.

The expectation was clear. Kobe Bryant would carry more of the offense, chase scoring milestones, and keep the team relevant through sheer production.

Inside the organization, the contradiction was obvious. When Kobe looked to pass, he was told to score more. When he tried to force scoring, he was told to involve others. The instructions never stayed consistent.

Kobe responded in the only way that made sense to him. He pushed toward full control of the offense and chased statistical impact across multiple categories, even if it meant stretching his usual role.

. . .

By late October, teams had already shifted into regular-season preparation.

On October 31st, the Miami Heat were set to open their season at Madison Square Garden against the Knicks. The matchup felt familiar. Media outlets framed it as another chapter in the same rivalry cycle that had defined recent years.

Lin Yi missed the opening game, but the narrative around it did not change. Knicks versus Heat still drew attention, still carried tension, and still dominated discussion.

Before the main game, Lin Yi watched the Chicago Bulls face the Boston Celtics on television. The Celtics had officially entered the Stevens era, adjusting to a new system that prioritized structure and decision-making over improvisation.

Chicago controlled the game in a way that never looked rushed. Derrick Rose had returned after more than a year away.

He played 24 minutes, finished with 16 points and 5 assists, and showed flashes of his old acceleration, but with noticeable restraint in his pacing.

The coaching staff limited his workload early. Thibodeau kept him on a strict restriction, not pushing beyond 28 minutes in the first stretch of the season. The focus was rhythm, not endurance.

Lin Yi viewed Chicago as a real opponent again this season. Not just because of talent, but because of structure and discipline. Under Thibodeau, they would always be difficult to break down. The only certainty was that preparation would decide everything long before tipoff.

. . .

After the Bulls and Celtics wrapped up their season opener, all attention shifted to the main event of the night.

The latest chapter of the Knicks-Heat rivalry tipped off right on schedule at Madison Square Garden.

D'Antoni rolled out a starting lineup of Tyson Chandler, Markieff Morris, Chandler Parsons, Klay Thompson, and Chris Paul.

Across from them, Miami countered with Chris Bosh, Udonis Haslem, LeBron James, Dwyane Wade, and Mario Chalmers.

After feeding little Olivia, Olsen settled onto the couch beside Lin Yi and glanced at the television.

"Lin, do you think the Knicks can win tonight?"

Lin Yi gently squeezed Olivia's soft cheek before smiling.

"Hard to say. But even without me, this team isn't weak."

Not weak?

That was putting it mildly.

The Knicks' starting lineup featured three players capable of making an All-Defensive Team. Coming off the bench were two young big men with future Defensive Player of the Year potential, although both were still developing.

If Miami came into the game thinking the Knicks would be easy prey without Lin Yi, they were setting themselves up for a rude awakening.

And for some reason, every Knicks player seemed to be in perfect rhythm tonight.

The reason was simple.

That guy who always dominated the ball wasn't playing.

The basketball finally belonged to everyone.

Chris Paul orchestrated the offense masterfully in the first quarter. The ball moved crisply from side to side, players cut with purpose, and scoring opportunities came from every corner of the floor.

By the end of the opening period, New York had built an 11-point lead.

The television commentators were momentarily at a loss.

The storyline they had prepared all week revolved around Lin Yi's absence.

Now what?

They couldn't spend the entire second quarter talking about Lin Yi's newborn daughter.

So they collectively began cheering for Miami's comeback chances.

Someone had to make this game competitive.

Paul, meanwhile, looked completely rejuvenated.

After recording 7 points and 6 assists in the first quarter alone, he felt as though he had finally arrived at the highest point of his career.

For a brief moment, he even had the urge to stand at center court and declare himself the King of New York.

On the Knicks bench, the atmosphere was equally cheerful.

One player casually suggested,

"You know, maybe we should ask Coach to let Lin rest a few more games."

The entire bench immediately nodded.

"Not a bad idea."

"Definitely worth considering."

"Very reasonable proposal." Klay Thompson joked.

Watching from home, Lin Yi did not need to hear the conversation to know exactly what those traitors were discussing.

Seriously.

Was it really that big of a deal that he occasionally forgot the pass button existed?

Lin Yi narrowed his eyes.

Fine.

When he returned, he was going to spend a few games doing whatever he wanted.

Passing could wait.

These guys clearly needed a reminder.

They had already forgotten what it felt like when every possession belonged to him.

It was time to restore some respect.

As basketball fans everywhere marveled at how dominant the Knicks looked even without their superstar, another story was beginning to unfold inside Madison Square Garden.

The Heat were not the kind of team that simply accepted defeat.

And they still had LeBron James.

With Miami's offense sputtering and the game threatening to slip away, James stepped forward.

Attack after attack, he charged toward the basket with relentless force.

Like a commander sounding the horn before battle, LeBron ignited Miami's counterattack and dragged the Heat back into the fight.

. . .

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