On May 15th, the Pacers head coach Frank Vogel was losing his composure—it was simply that Madison Square Garden was overflowing with confidence after Lin Yi secured his second straight MVP.
Before tip‑off, Lin Yi held up his new MVP trophy at center court, thanking New York fans for their support. The building practically vibrated with energy.
Morale is a strange thing in sports—intangible, unmeasurable, yet powerful enough to tilt the direction of a season.
In football (soccer), for example. Real Madrid: under Benítez, they were everyone's punching bag. Zidane took over mid‑season as the coach, and suddenly, they were steamrolling Europe.
Call it momentum, call it metaphysics—whatever it is, it exists.
And honestly, who else is pulling off three straight Champions League titles like Zidane?
Exactly.
If last year's Knicks won the championship through sheer unity amid chaos, then this year's Knicks had forged a true identity— steady, one victory at a time.
NBA scouts always talk about "character" in their reports, and for good reason. History has shown over and over that character often determines how high a player can climb.
In Game 2, the Knicks didn't give the Pacers even a sliver of hope. Riding the momentum of the Fried Chicken Brothers, they dismantled Indiana.
Final score: 115–96.
Lin Yi: 31 points, 14 rebounds, 11 assists in 34 minutes.
Paul: 29 points, 4 rebounds, 5 assists in 33 minutes.
After the game, Barkley summed up the Knicks with three dramatic "impossibles":
"Their magic is Impossible to replicate."
"Injuries stopping them? Impossible."
"And beating them? Impossible."
Lin‑fan TV's number‑one Lin Yi devotee couldn't have said it better.
On the 17th, the series shifted to Indianapolis—another city tied to Lin Yi's rise. Fans there still remembered the Wildcats' upset over North Carolina, a game that had put Lin Yi and Curry on the map.
Three years had passed. The Shooting Stars had grown into the cores of the Knicks and Warriors. Time changes people, but some memories stay sharp—like the storm‑like offense those two unleashed back then. That wild, unreasonable style of play felt like it happened yesterday.
And as long as Lin Yi and Curry kept playing, those fans would keep following. When they're older, that dusty memory will only become more precious.
The Pacers, desperate and unwilling to fold, came out swinging in Game 3. Their young guards tried to challenge the Knicks' throne, but their blade was still too dull. New York was running at full playoff speed.
In the fourth quarter, Lin Yi repeatedly blew up the Pacers' defense like he was carrying live explosives. After the game, a young Paul George couldn't hold back his tears.
119–110.
The Knicks conquered Indianapolis.
Series: 3–0.
And in NBA history, no team has ever climbed out of a 0–3 hole.
Still, the young Pacers earned respect. In Game 4 on the 19th, they fought back and stole a win. Afterward, Paul George said firmly, "We won't compromise or surrender."
Classic future PG—fiery, stubborn, and destined to reinvent himself after that near‑career‑ending injury.
But the Knicks weren't lacking in resolve either.
On the 21st, Game 5 returned to Madison Square Garden. The Fried Chicken Brothers came out determined to finish the job.
Meanwhile, the Heat were locked in a slugfest with the Hawks—a reminder that the team reaching the Eastern Conference Finals first would hold the strategic high ground.
Lin Yi and Paul unleashed a masterclass in pick‑and‑roll basketball. After Lin Yi's positional shift this season, this was the first time the two had run so many PnRs together.
The pick‑and‑roll is basketball's oldest trick, but in the hands of two tactical savants, it becomes art.
Lin Yi screened for Paul.
Paul screened for Lin Yi.
Collison, the Pacers' small guard, kept running into Lin Yi's brick‑wall frame, and Lin Yi's jumpers were dropping like ballistic missiles.
The Pacers simply didn't have the defensive experience to handle him. Their big man was too slow on rotations, and after last summer's FIBA run, Lin Yi had become the league's top zone‑breaker.
Lin Yi finished with 41 points. Paul added 39.
Together, they turned the Pacers into a metaphorical plate of fried chicken.
New York feasted.
4–1.
Series over.
The only scare came when Paul's knee collided with Collison's on a drive. The team doctor cleared him, and Paul insisted on returning in the second half.
"If I can't make it to the Eastern Conference Finals with this team, what's the point of basketball?" he said—calm, determined.
The Pacers were young. Their journey was just beginning. Lin Yi didn't know whether Larry Bird would retire like in his memory, but one thing was clear: the younger Kobe fan had lost to the older Kobe fan.
After the game, Lin Yi ruffled Paul George's hair.
"Don't get discouraged. Don't lose heart. The future's yours."
George nodded—until he remembered Lin Yi was barely older than him.
"To hell with the future. Next year, we're taking you down!"
He meant it. That summer, he'd live in the gym—muscles, shooting, ball‑handling, everything.
Lin Yi clicked his tongue. If PG could avoid that injury… who knows how high he'd climb?
"Hey, Chris, this is your first conference finals, right?" Lin Yi teased Paul.
Paul kicked Lin Yi's knee—not gently—but as he put on the conference champions cap, he grinned.
"Lin, I really hope we're standing on the Finals stage in a few weeks."
Lin Yi smiled and bumped fists with him.
On the sidelines, Curry felt a flicker of envy. Once upon a time, his favorite thing was bumping fists with Lin Yi after draining a three.
Yao Ming watched the scene and sighed.
"Being young is really great."
And he was right.
There's nothing more powerful—or more beautiful—than youth.
...
Please do leave a review and powerstones, helps with the book's exposure.
Feel like joining a Patreon for free and subscribing to advanced chapters?
Visit the link:
[email protected]/GRANDMAESTA_30
Change @ to a