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Chapter 405: Knicks vs Lakers
🕑 Added 2025-10-17 13:50:07 +0000 UTCDecember 29th, Staples Center, Los Angeles.
The second stop of the Knicks’ Western road trip felt more like a fan convention than a game. As the league’s most famous Kobe fan,” Lin Yi got a full-on welcome from Bryant—by getting his head nearly taken off during warm-ups.
Lin Yi suddenly missed Shaq a little. Back when O’Neal was around, would Kobe have dared to act so smug?
It’s said that BodyArmour, the sports drink both Lin Yi and Kobe had invested in, was starting to sell well. Before tip-off, neither of them seemed worried about how Gatorade might feel. While chatting, both casually held up their BodyArmour bottles just enough for the camera to catch.
Lin Yi grinned, “We should get Curry, Blake, and some of the others to endorse this stuff.”
Kobe raised an eyebrow. “Endorsements, huh? You know we don’t exactly have Coca-Cola’s budget yet.”
Lin chuckled. “Then we offer shares instead. They’ll thank us later.”
He knew most of the young stars from the 2009 draft class were still living paycheck to paycheck. Getting them in early would be cheap—and down the line, players like Harden would bring real visibility. Better to let Harden’s money grow with BodyArmour than have him invest it in Houston nightlife.
Kobe raised a brow, clearly amused by Lin’s scheming. He jumped up to rub Lin Yi’s head, but got smacked.
“Man, I don’t need your bald mojo,” Lin muttered, walking off toward the bench.
When Lin heard the Lakers’ starting lineup, he turned to D’Antoni, eyebrows raised.
“They’re starting Bynum? Is Phil okay?”
For years, Phil Jackson had been leading the Anti-Lin League—always sending quicker wings to slow Lin down. This lineup made no sense.
“Don’t tell me Andrew’s actually Phil’s long-lost son,” Lin whispered.
Considering how patient Phil had been with Bynum over the years, many Lakers fans had wondered the same thing.
Klay was starting again tonight. Lin Yi was treating Kobe as a final boss for Klay’s growth—an experience mission. Injuries or not, Kobe’s shooting form still sounded like music to Lin’s ears.
Klay’s father, Mychal Thompson, was courtside tonight too—a proud Lakers legend himself. Watching his son take on Kobe, Mychal couldn’t hide his smile.
Every time he saw someone he knew, he’d point toward the court and say, “See that No. 11 on the Knicks? That’s my boy!”
Klay, on the other hand, wanted to crawl under the bench.
That’s not my dad. I’ve never seen that man before. Must’ve been someone I gave my number to during a phone plan upgrade.
Parents, huh? Some things never change.
When Lin walked to the center circle for tip-off, he caught Bynum glaring at him with the intensity of a man auditioning for a villain role.
I’m gonna destroy you, his eyes seemed to say.
Lin sighed. The trash talk was weak. Garnett would’ve done it better. After all, Garnett once spat in Szczerbiak’s face and told Duncan, right after his mother passed, “Mother’s Day is coming—don’t forget to say hi to her.”
And then denied it completely. Now that was elite-level trash talk.
Compared to that, Bynum’s effort was junior varsity stuff. Lin barely blinked before winning the tip with ease.
Knicks’ starting five:
Tyson Chandler
Motiejūnas
Lin Yi
Klay Thompson
Chris Paul
Lakers’ starting five:
Bynum
Pau Gasol
Artest
Kobe Bryant
Steve Nash
First Knicks possession. Artest came flying in with an elbow like he was still auditioning for Fight Club.
Lin barely dodged and said, while dribbling.
“Man, that’s not defense—that’s domestic violence!”
He kicked the ball back to Paul and set a solid screen. Paul darted inside; Bynum rotated over; Lin popped up just enough to lob the ball over. Chandler soared in and hammered it home.
2–0 Knicks.
On the Lakers’ turn, Kobe faked right, then lobbed the ball perfectly into the paint. Bynum caught it midair—finally getting his moment. For that brief instant, he probably felt like the main character.
Staples Center, get ready to cheer for me!
Bynum backed down hard against Tyson Chandler, feeling the contact and smirking.
He muscled his way inside before leaping—arms outstretched, feeling ten feet tall.
But Bynum had no idea what was coming.
Tyson wasn’t losing ground—he was baiting him. Tyson had already spotted Lin Yi rotating in from the weak side.
And honestly, did Artest even need tight-man coverage?
The guy was a walking brick wall by himself.
So when Bynum rose, confident and oblivious, Lin Yi came flying in.
If Bynum could actually pass out of a double team, he wouldn’t be this Bynum.
In an instant, Lin Yi’s shadow loomed.
Then—bang!
Bynum’s body hit the hardwood, his moment of glory turning into background noise. Lin Yi’s timing was flawless, meeting him in mid-air and rejecting the shot so hard it felt like a dunk in reverse.
The Staples Center erupted in gasps.
Paul was already sprinting upcourt. One quick look, one quarterback-style heave—perfect pass. Paul caught it in stride and laid it in.
4–0 Knicks!
“Nice one!” Paul grinned, giving Lin Yi a dap.
Lin knew Paul hated anyone patting his head, so he settled for the dap. As they jogged back, Lin leaned toward Klay and said quietly, “Klay, I’ve got something to tell you.”
Klay blinked.
.
“Too cruel… but I love it!” Barkley roared from the TNT desk.
“I think Andrew’s gonna have a long night,” Kenny Smith laughed. “But hey, maybe he’ll still go viral. Remember, he said this summer, he wanted to blow up on YouTube. I think he’s about to—just not how he planned.”
O’Neal just shook his head, torn between roasting Kobe or Lin first.
Bynum got up, fuming, and tried to body Lin. He shoved off with an elbow–whistle. Offensive foul.
Then, still complaining, he barked something at the ref—another whistle. Technical foul.
Lin Yi calmly drained the free throw.
5–0 Knicks.
On the Lakers’ bench, Phil Jackson sat stone-faced. No timeout. No reaction. But his eyes said it all.
Back on the court, Lin took the inbound from Paul and went straight into attack mode: quick first step, left-hand drive. Artest’s elbow grazed his side, but Lin was already past him.
Bynum stepped up to contest—
Lin twisted mid-air, body spinning, legs slicing through the air like a dancer.
Reverse layup.
7–0.
Sometimes, the coldest way to dominate isn’t through anger—it’s indifference.
Lin never even looked at Bynum. Not once.
Not arrogance—just clarity. Why argue with a child?
The crowd fell into stunned silence before erupting again. The move was pure artistry.
Kobe, though, had seen enough. On the next play, he waved off Bynum entirely. Working the triangle with Nash and Gasol, he feinted toward Klay, rose into that signature fadeaway, and—swish.
For a moment, everyone forgot Bynum’s embarrassment.
“MVP! MVP! MVP!” the crowd chanted as Kobe jogged back.
Lin couldn’t help but grin.
7–2. Still no timeout from the Zen Master.
“Alright,” Lin muttered. “If that’s how it is…”
The Knicks pushed again. Fast break, quick crossover, straight down the middle.
Bynum stepped in front, ready this time.
Lin didn’t flinch.
Bang!
“Lin Yi just threw it down over Bynum!”
