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...
Staples Center, Los Angeles — June 3.
Lin Yi and Yao Ming — two towering stars — took their seats courtside.
During warm-ups, Kobe noticed them, broke into a grin, and came over to hug Lin Yi.
On the other end, the Celtics' three veterans caught sight of Lin sitting there. Their faces were complicated — after all, just thinking about that Eastern Conference semifinal still gave them chills.
If you put it in internet slang, Lin was… that little demon who loved to grin while wrecking you.
"Lin, who you got tonight?" Yao leaned in.
"Lakers, of course, Brother Ming," Lin answered without hesitation.
Yao chuckled, shaking his head. "You really are a Kobe guy."
Lin grinned and nodded. How could he not be?
Lin Yi liked his willingness to keep shooting even when cold, his refusal to back down when the going got tough. If you dare to take those shots, even when the percentage looks bad, you can win games nobody thought you could.
He often wondered why so many people criticized Kobe's relentlessness when that kind of iron will was the rarest thing in basketball.
Tonight's Finals game lived up to the hype. Courtside, it felt even more intense than on TV. When Gasol bullied Garnett into an and-one, Lin found himself muttering: "Man… so much for being soft."
With just over five minutes left in the second quarter, Kobe dribbled through a dazzling sequence, shook Ray Allen, and rose for a jumper that was just… gorgeous.
Lin jumped to his feet, hands in the air.
The shot was kind, that makes the basket want to embrace and say:
"Come on home."
But fate had other plans.
Clang!
The ball bricked off iron. Lin sat down sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.
Over at the TNT booth, Barkley laughed. "Man, Lin gotta sit his ass down. He should be embarrassed by that early celebration."
Kenny Smith teasingly chimed in: "Maybe, he wants to suit up and hoop with Kobe."
Yao, meanwhile, was more focused on the game. "Gasol's killing it tonight," he said, impressed.
Lin nodded. Gasol was the difference-maker. He remembered this series well — Kobe would be hounded every game, but Pau always stepped up when they needed him.
Still, Lin could sense Yao's thoughts drifting. His big brother seemed distracted all evening, even though they'd arranged this game to catch up and talk.
The game itself unfolded pretty much as Lin remembered. Kobe went 10-for-22, dropping a game-high 30 points with 7 rebounds and 6 assists.
But the Lakers' unsung hero? Gasol — 8-of-14 shooting, 23 points, 14 boards (eight of them offensive), 3 assists, and 3 blocks. Garnett, meanwhile, looked like his legs had finally caught up with him. He managed just 9 points on 3-for-10 shooting, with only 4 rebounds. He just didn't have it tonight.
After the game, Kobe invited Lin out for dinner. Lin, though, suggested he rest instead — even iron bodies need recovery.
Kobe chuckled, clapped him on the back. "Alright. But this summer — let's get a workout in together."
Lin smiled. "I'd like that." Though he secretly wondered… if he showed up to one of Kobe's infamous 4 a.m. sessions, would he get chewed out?
...
Later that night, at a quiet fine-dining restaurant in LA, Lin and Yao sat waiting for their meals.
Yao finally broke the silence. "Lin… tell me the truth. Are you planning to skip the national team this year?"
Lin glanced at him, sensing the weight in his tone. "Big brother… tell me first — are you planning to play at the London Olympics?"
It wasn't a wild question. Lin had noticed Yao slimming down recently, and he doubted it was just to look better going head-to-head against him in their so-called Chinese Showdown next season.
In his memory, Yao had talked about retirement after that string of injuries, but tonight, watching the Finals, Lin had seen that old fire in his eyes again.
Sure enough, Yao nodded. "Yeah. I want to play in London in 2012."
That didn't surprise Lin. Yao had originally planned to hang it up after Beijing, thinking he'd reached the ceiling of what Chinese basketball could achieve. Those grueling playoff battles had worn him down to the point he thought it was time to let go.
But Lin's arrival changed that.
Recovering from his latest injury, Yao was under no illusions about his body. But now, seeing Lin — an All-Defensive and All-NBA player, a potential MVP — he felt hope again.
Lin knew Yao well enough to understand. Yao didn't need the national federation to beg him to come back. As long as China needed him, he'd be there. That was just who he was — the same man who, years later, would take on the thankless job of Basketball Association chairman out of sheer love for the game.
The thought humbled Lin.
Because to Yao, the rise of Lin Yi wasn't a signal that he could walk away — it was the reason to stick around a little longer, to see how far they could take Chinese basketball together.
That's why he'd already spoken to the Rockets about limiting his minutes next season. He wanted to make it through healthy and give everything he had left in London.
Yao had been working on his three-pointer lately. Officially, he said it was to get back some old skills. But truthfully, part of the reason was simple — he figured that if he and Lin Yi could run a pick-and-roll, and he popped out to shoot, it'd give Lin more space to operate.
After all, this was the same Yao who, during the 2004 Athens Olympics, once ripped a towel apart in frustration… the same Yao who, before Beijing 2008, stood in the gym and chewed out teammates who didn't want to train hard. Not for "glory," he said — but because it mattered.
So now, as Lin Yi's star rose higher and higher, Yao made his decision: he was sticking it out through 2012. He wanted to see — with Lin — just how far Chinese basketball could go.
"Has the Basketball Association asked you to play the World Championship this year too?" Lin asked.
Yao nodded. "Yeah, they want you there. But you're in the NBA now, outside their system. They don't dare to call you outright. Honestly, if you just post one sentence on social media, the fans would tear them to shreds."
Lin smirked faintly. "Brother Ming, if you're serious about playing in London… then count me in. I'll go with you."
Yao froze for a moment, blinking, almost like he hadn't expected it to be that easy. "You mean that?"
Lin met his gaze and nodded. "Of course. But — I'm being honest here — I won't play this year's World Championship."
Yao tilted his head, puzzled. "Why not?"
Lin grinned. "Because I'm going for MVP."
Yao burst out laughing. The surprise on his face melted into a crooked smile.
Lin leaned forward. "I need this summer to gear up for next season. If you're aiming for London in 2012, then I've got to make sure I'm ready to carry my weight by then — and that means coming back even better. But if it's just about the World Championship? Not worth it right now."
He wasn't wrong, either. Lin remembered how the 2010 Worlds under Coach Deng Huade felt like smoke and mirrors. Even though the Chinese team will win the Asian Championship this next year, it was clear how thin their depth was becoming. It wasn't until 2015 in Changsha that a new generation finally helped China regain its footing.
And he knew how unforgiving the expectations were. In Asia, if the men's basketball team didn't win the title? It was a failure, period.
Chinese basketball fans had pride — because in the Olympic family, it was always the men's basketball players carrying the flag. They'd never missed an Olympics. Never.
And they weren't about to start now.
So Lin decided: for 2012 and Yao, he'd hold nothing back. He'd skip the 2011 Asian Championship too and go all-in on next year's season.
The Basketball Association couldn't force him, anyway — not someone outside the system, not someone the fans loved. He wasn't worried about Olympic qualification, either. China would still get there, with or without him.
Yao was quiet for a long moment, then he nodded, eyes lighting up as he processed Lin's plan. "Alright. I'll help you handle the Basketball Association. And honestly… we should let Jianlian have some rest too. He played all 82 games last year. It's brutal."
Lin laughed, pulling out his phone and snapping a quick picture of Yao's serious face.
"Another one for the meme folder," he teased, flashing the photo at Yao.
Yao stared at the screen, then threw his head back and groaned. "…you're hopeless."
He leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the Los Angeles sky through the restaurant window. A mischievous thought crossed his mind — that old trick he used to play, grabbing teammates with his iron grip just to mess with them.
Maybe… just maybe, it was time to see if Lin could handle it.
Yao flexed his massive arm slightly, feeling it twitch with anticipation.
...
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