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Chapter 404: Knicks vs Warriors End
🕑 Added 2025-10-16 12:54:21 +0000 UTCBy the end of the third quarter between the Knicks and the Warriors, Lin was sitting down with a resigned look.
Were the Warriors red-hot tonight?
Not really. It was the Knicks who were absolutely out of their minds.
All game long, New York’s offense had one rule — if you can score in three seconds, don’t waste five.
Fast. Furious. Ruthless.
And when the Knicks played like that, even a good Warriors team couldn’t hang.
The cause of Lin's resigned look was that… his teammates were too good.
Among the Knicks’ four rookies, Klay was the standout. Motiejūnas and Parsons had their flashes, too. Chris Paul was five-for-five from three?
And forget Klay for a second — when he’s hot, nobody can stop him anyway. But even Danny Green came off the bench tonight, firing like prime Ray Allen.
Before the third quarter even ended, the Knicks had cracked 100.
Lin could only shake his head in constipated happiness. His teammates weren’t just helping him win — they were blocking his path to MVP.
You want to pad your stats?
Sure thing — too bad you’re sitting by the fourth because your team’s too efficient.
He realized, to his horror, that his biggest threat to the MVP wasn’t LeBron or Durant… it was his own locker room.
In a shortened season, numbers mattered as much as wins. And on this particular night in Oakland, Lin found himself boxed out — by his own squad.
19 points, 8 rebounds, 9 assists. Solid, but not spectacular.
Meanwhile, Klay hit 5-of-8 from deep for 19.
Paul went 5-for-5 from three, finishing with 24, 6, and 7.
Danny Green drilled 3-of-4 for 11.
And that wasn’t all — Chandler shot 6-for-6 for 12, Morris added 13 on 5-for-7, and Billups chipped in 12 more.
Seven players in double figures.
Twelve Knicks scored in total.
Lin sat on the bench, staring at the scoreboard like a man watching his own highlight reel without himself in it.
But it was what it was. Lin really wanted to defend his MVP, but if his teammates were balling like this, he was happy for the win.
The Knicks won 131–105, opening the season 2–0.
Curry was great — 30 points, 6 boards, 8 assists, and 6-of-9 from deep — but it didn’t mean much in a blowout loss. Even if he’d outscored Klay, he didn’t look happy.
The Warriors could trade punches offensively, sure, but defensively? They weren’t in the same league as the Knicks yet.
Leonard was rattled — Lin had gotten into his head. Cousins showed flashes, but Lin could tell the kid was overthinking everything.
The only one who made Lin pause was Curry.
After the game, they chatted briefly. Lin noticed it immediately — something in Curry was shifting. Even in a lopsided loss, he kept his energy up, kept leading.
Lin knew what that meant. Once Curry figured out how to control the tempo with his scoring, he’d be nigh unstoppable.
Because Stephen Curry wasn’t just a shooter, his other great strength was his gravity.
..
In the locker room afterward, Lin tossed a towel onto Klay’s head.
“So, what happened to that promise, huh? You said you’d hold Steph to five points.”
Klay dropped his head, embarrassed. Sure, he’d made five threes — but Curry had hit six and outplayed him overall.
Lin patted him on the shoulder. “Relax. I’m not blaming you. Confidence is good, but remember, this league’s tougher than it looks. I like your swagger, Klay — remember, you’re more than a shooter.”
Klay lifted his head, eyes focused now.
“Your defense still needs work,” Lin continued. “That energy you bring on that end? That’s what we love about you. Next game’s against the Lakers — think you can guard Kobe?”
Klay’s eyes lit up. He hesitated, swallowed hard, then nodded.
Lin grinned and shot a knowing glance at Chris Paul behind him, flashing a quiet mission accomplished gesture.
Paul nodded but didn’t say anything. He knew exactly what Lin was doing — tough love first, encouragement after, then a little challenge to seal the deal. Classic veteran move.
And he had to admit — it worked.
Watching Lin mentor Klay like that, Paul suddenly remembered something Vic once told him about Duncan. Calm, patient, quietly manipulative in the best way.
Then it hit him — Lin had just turned 22 not long ago.
He looked at Klay, then back at Lin, shaking his head with a smile.
Damn, Paul thought. Vic was right. The kid’s got some Duncan in him.
...
After stomping the Warriors, the Knicks boarded a flight to L.A. Next up: a date with the Lakers — the second stop on a three-game western road swing.
Los Angeles was still trying to figure out Nash and Kobe. On paper the roster looked insane: All-Star-caliber starters, two MVPs. In practice, the marriage felt awkward. Nash wasn’t the problem offensively, but every time he was in the lineup, the Lakers’ defense looked shaky.
Bynum didn’t help — the big man hated defending pick-and-rolls, and his effort in sessions was hit-or-miss. Add in the fact that the front office had basically tossed Odom to the Clippers, and Kobe had reasons to be frustrated.
Phil Jackson — the Zen Master — was scratching his head. The Lakers could score, but against the Knicks this week, the roster was getting eaten alive. Phil blamed Bynum’s conditioning. Every time he watched Andrew walk through drills, he wanted to scream. Put plainly: this wasn’t the Bynum the team needed.
Kobe felt it too. During practice, the two of them snapped at each other.
“If you’re carrying extra weight, you can’t do the work,” Kobe said bluntly when he saw Bynum head to the sideline early. His stare didn’t change anything, so he walked over and leveled with him.
“I put up 15 in the opener and 18 last night. If you hadn’t jacked thirty shots last game, maybe we don’t lose," Bynum shot back, defensive and proud.
The argument could have spun out, except Nash stepped in cool and steady — the diplomatic point guard doing what he does best.
“Andrew, we’re still training. Sit out by yourself and watch us? That doesn’t help.”
Nash tried to smooth it out: unity first, ego later. Kobe listened, grudgingly, and watched Bynum wander back onto the floor. For a second, he missed Shaq — the old chaos had its logic — but the truth was obvious: Kobe wanted that sixth ring more than anything.
After practice, Phil announced the rotation for the Lakers’ next night. Bynum pushed back hard when he found out he was scratched. He believed he was every bit as capable as Lin Yi — thought the difference was opportunity, not talent.
“Coach, give me the low-post scheme,” he demanded. “I’ll break their defense.”
Gasol stepped back politely; the brothers had their own quiet grievance about Lin Yi stealing the spotlight, but he wasn’t about to fight publicly. Kobe, for all his annoyance, knew these were teammates who’d won together. Bynum’s confidence bordered on delusion, but he had a point: mismatch problems could be solved with the right plan.
Nash offered a practical suggestion: Lin Yi’s position this year might make Bynum’s skill set match up differently. Phil got it instantly. Rather than coddle Bynum, maybe the quickest fix was to let him try — and fail — against Lin. Humble him, then rebuild him. If Bynum kept drifting through practices, the team’s ceiling would vanish.
So Phil surprised everyone and penciled Bynum into the starting lineup for the Knicks game. Low-post plays were drawn up; Bynum smiled like he’d won something.
“I’ll show them I’m better than Lin,” he said.
Kobe was on the verge of calling Bynum to be serious— and maybe setting him straight — when Nash quietly grabbed his arm.
“Whatever happens tomorrow, we get the ball to Andrew more,” he said simply.
Kobe huffed, annoyed, but he heard Nash. If the Lakers were going to go anywhere this season, they needed every piece. Trading Bynum wasn’t an option; no one would take his contract and his baggage.
Kobe sighed. He didn’t want Bynum to get desperate and embarrass himself — especially not by Lin, he thought, remembering a text he’d gotten from Lin the night before, telling him to support his teammates. The message had cemented his irritation.
He wanted to laugh, and then smash something.
