Since arriving in Miami, LeBron James had been locked in—laser-focused. He knew exactly what the consequences of The Decision were going to be.
Back in Cleveland, fans burnt his jersey. That massive billboard with his image? Torn down like it never existed. People said he didn't care—but of course, it hurt.
He was Akron's own. And Akron isn't far from Cleveland. For many Cavs fans, LeBron was more than just a star—he was their guy.
So when he left, it felt like betrayal.
But LeBron kept pushing forward. He reminded himself daily: none of that matters—only the championship does.
He didn't want to wait anymore. How many Michael Jordans are out there? Sure, LeBron took care of his body, but he wanted to win many championships young without punishing his body in his latter years.
If he could build a dynasty here, that would be his legacy.
He had Miami now.
Especially this past summer—Wade had been by his side the whole time. They trained, sharpened each other. And LeBron genuinely believed—there was no better teammate in the world than Dwyane Wade.
...
"LeBron, you watching Knicks film again?" Wade asked casually during a preseason shootaround.
LeBron nodded, eyes fixed on the tablet in his hands. Preseason didn't matter much—but the opener? That was different.
Knicks vs. Heat in Miami to start the season. And truth be told, LeBron had mixed feelings about Lin Yi.
He admired the kid. The talent, the flair, the rising stardom—it was all there. But part of him couldn't help but feel a little envious.
"This Knicks squad doesn't look as sharp as last season," Wade noted.
LeBron agreed. He'd seen a few preseason clips—New York looked scattered, like they were still figuring things out. It reminded him of his early years in Cleveland. The grind. The weight of carrying a team.
He made a quiet mental note—if the Heat ran away with the game, he'd go over and say something to Lin Yi afterward. A quick pat on the head, maybe some words of encouragement.
That's what veterans were supposed to do, right?
...
Meanwhile, under Pat Riley's watchful eye—technically from the front office—Coach Spoelstra was pushing the squad through grueling training sessions. It was classic Riley: no shortcuts, no coasting. LeBron loved it.
He believed it outright—part of why the Cavs couldn't get over the hump back then was because they hadn't worked like this.
With Wade, Bosh, and himself all setting the tone, no one dared to slack. Only old vet Juwan Howard had been granted a rest day. Everyone else? Fully locked in.
Mike Miller, for one, was fired up. He'd gotten offers over the summer but stayed because he believed in this team. Watching LeBron, Wade, and Bosh grind it out only confirmed he'd made the right choice.
Then there was Big Z—Zydrunas Ilgauskas—another former Cavalier now by LeBron's side again. He'd always trusted LeBron's vision. In his mind, James wasn't just one of the greats—he was the greatest in the league today.
Even Riley, from behind the scenes, couldn't help but marvel at the fire this group had.
"How could it not be this hot?" he muttered, half to himself.
Spoelstra just nodded. He had the Knicks scouting report on hand, and he wasn't pulling any punches.
This was the opening night. And even if the Knicks had slipped a little since last year—third in the East, sure—this was about more than just a win. Spoelstra knew a big opening-night statement could flip the media narrative overnight.
...
The NBA commissioner, David Stern, was having a rough week.
He'd greenlit the Heat-Knicks opener months ago, back when he assumed the Knicks would add a few pieces in the offseason.
They didn't.
And now Stern was regretting that decision. Lin Yi was supposed to be the face of the next wave. He didn't want the kid to get outshone by LeBron and the Heat right out of the gate.
James's public image had taken a hit lately, but if the Knicks lost badly, everyone would start saying Lin Yi wasn't on his level—and that would tank his MVP campaign before it even started.
Stern sighed.
This wasn't just about one game. The Knicks had issues.
In the past, even when the team was struggling, their front office spent big. Took risks. Paid the luxury tax like it was nothing. But now, with the team improving... suddenly they'd tightened the purse strings?
It didn't feel like just a shift in strategy. Stern couldn't shake the feeling—something was off between Lin Yi and Knicks management.
"If things break down," he said to himself, "we might have to step in."
He'd already seen what Lin Yi meant to the Chinese market. The hype was real. Stern didn't know much about Chinese pop culture—beyond Kung Fu Cheng and Shaolin Li—but he did know the country had rallied around Lin like he was the next Yao.
Nike was already sketching out second and third signature shoes for him. Some execs were even talking about building an entire brand around him—like they once did with Jordan.
The better Lin Yi performed, the more Stern worried.
Such a grounded, likable kid—and yet, stuck on this chaotic Knicks team.
"David, maybe we should send Joey to officiate the opener?" Adam Silver suggested.
Stern glanced over at him, unimpressed.
"No need to stir the pot," he replied. "Let the game play out. But if things spiral, we might have to start framing Lin like Iverson—a lone warrior fighting the odds."
That way, even if the Knicks didn't win much, Lin could still come out a hero.
...
"What? You planning to start filming a documentary on me?"
Lin Yi was in the middle of prepping for the final two preseason games when he got the call from Javier Stanford. He sounded half-joking, but there was real hesitation in his voice.
"Yeah," Javier replied, "and not just any documentary—Spike Lee's directing it. What do you think, Lin? Got any ideas of your own?"
The Knicks were gearing up to push Lin into the spotlight.
"What's Spike thinking for the shoot?" Lin asked.
"He wants to mix in game footage, capture a few of your signature plays, interviews... the usual stuff," Javier explained.
Lin quickly shook his head. "We can't make this thing too polished, too dramatic, people will just roll their eyes. It'll feel fake, like the Knicks are trying too hard."
Instead, Lin proposed the opposite: no flashy edits, no over-the-top highlights. Show the ugly side—missed shots, fatigue, soreness. The ice packs after games. The quiet, frustrated moments. Recovery. Grit.
"Nobody relates to perfect. You know why fans connect with me, Javier? Because I'm not perfect."
"Roll this Spike and let's get his opinion."
When Javier passed Lin's notes to Spike Lee, the director was instantly hooked.
"Genius!" Spike blurted out. "That's it! This will make Lin's story deeper—give the fans a hero who bleeds. Show his struggles, and when he shines on court, they'll love him even more. This thing's gonna blow up!"
Spike was practically ready to hug Lin's knees, but Lin didn't think much of it.
He'd seen what happened when Kobe retired—the cameras captured his labored breathing and exhaustion. That was what stayed with people—the realness of it. Even the bricks at the start of that farewell game—those weren't lowlights, they were moments of truth.
And if the Knicks were ready to push this narrative, Lin was prepared to take a page out of Kobe's book.
"If you want to move people, you've got to make them feel," Lin told himself.
He was even half-joking about staging a dramatic moment in practice—maybe have Pat clip him with a hard foul. Nothing serious. He'd bounce back. That kind of comeback always hits home with fans.
Throw in a deep playoff run—even just touching the Eastern Conference Finals—and Lin's legacy would take a major leap.
And don't forget the All-Star Game or the looming Griffin showdown. Lin was already planning something for that. He might even give Kenny Smith and Barkley a heads-up so they could work the booth magic. Who knows—maybe get Kenny to shout a classic "Let's go home! It's over!" like back in the 2000 Dunk Contest.
Sure, Kenny roasted him sometimes, but he also delivered some of the best calls on air.
...
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