On the 28th, the Chinese men's basketball team opened its Olympic campaign against Spain.
Before tip-off, Pau Gasol, the cornerstone of the Spanish squad, spoke cautiously to reporters.
"We're not underestimating them," Pau said. "Lin has the kind of ability that can swing a game by himself. Add Yao and Yi, and you're talking about the tallest team in this tournament. We'll have to find our own way to break their defense."
Spain remembered this matchup well. At the 2008 Olympics, the newly crowned World Champions had nearly stumbled against China. This time, China's roster was even deeper, and the Spanish coaching staff treated the game with clear seriousness.
The game tipped off at 4:45 p.m. in London.
As both teams stepped onto the court for warm-ups, the Spanish players slowed to a stop.
Half of the stands were a sea of red and other white.
During warm-ups, Yao Ming glanced over at Lin Yi and asked casually,
"Lin, how do the Knicks usually handle games?"
Lin Yi paused, clearly caught off guard.
"…That's a good question."
After a moment, he sighed.
"Well… if I'm being honest, D'Antoni usually just says: shoot more, rebound harder, and keep running. And if the pressure mounts, pass to me or Paul or me and let us go to work."
Yao nodded.
"So basically—"
Lin shrugged.
"Yeah. Just play."
After warm-ups, the big screen lit up with the starting lineups.
Spain:
Marc Gasol,
Pau Gasol
Rudy Fernandez
Jose Calderon
Ricky Rubio
China:
Yao Ming
Yi Jianlian
Lin Yi
Wang Shipeng
Sun Yue
On CCTV, Su Junyang joked,
"Spain is starting both Gasol brothers tonight. Looks like they're taking Lin Yi very seriously."
Yu Jia followed up calmly,
"Even though this is Lin Yi's first international game against them, he's faced the Gasol brothers plenty of times in the NBA—and caused them more than a few problems."
China's starting lineup averaged nearly seven feet in height.
Spain's lineup was impressive in its own right. Every starter was an active NBA player. Fernandez was explosive and reliable from deep. Calderon was steady and selective. As for Rubio, he was averaging ten points and eight assists per game, good for his first season.
As the starters gathered at center court, Fernandez tilted his head back to look up at Lin Yi. After a beat, he turned to his teammates, helpless.
"…So who's guarding him?"
Marc Gasol casually pointed at Pau.
Everyone immediately turned to Marc, staring at him like he'd just said something outrageous. This was the same guy who had been talking trash to Lin not long ago.
"Hey, relax," Marc said quickly, palms up. "I said our team is better than his. That means everyone has to do their part." He pointed around without a hint of shame. "Basketball's a team game, right?"
Pau snorted, then reached over and patted Fernandez on the shoulder.
"Go on, Rudy," he said lightly. "You've got this."
A 6'6" player going against a nimble seven-footer. What could go wrong?
Fernandez thought, already bracing himself.
Spanish media had suggested using Ibaka to deal with Lin Yi, but head coach Sergio made a different call. He believed China's size would slow their defensive rotations, and Fernandez's shooting and penetration could exploit that. So Fernandez stayed in the starting five.
At center court, Lin Yi didn't even bother jumping.
Marc Gasol stood no chance against Yao Ming.
Yao won the tip cleanly. Sun Yue brought the ball up and quickly swung it to Lin Yi.
Spain opened in a 2–3 zone, trying to maximize the Gasol brothers' presence in the paint.
Unfortunately for them, the best way to punish a zone was shooting—and China had a bit of that.
Wang Shipeng and Sun Yue spotted up in the corners. Yi Jianlian hovered on the wing. Yao stepped up to set a screen for Lin Yi—though the real purpose was to pull Marc Gasol away from the rim.
Lin Yi lowered his stance and accelerated.
Fernandez stayed with him, but Lin Yi's shoulder caught him squarely. Not dirty—just protecting the ball.
Lin Yi drew the defense, then calmly kicked the ball out.
Yi Jianlian rose and buried the three.
0–3.
The white jerseys struck first.
Spain answered amid deafening chants of "Defense! Defense!"
China matched them with a zone of their own. With Yao Ming anchoring the paint, there was no need for him to step out.
Lin Yi's defensive range was enormous. Even when Spanish players found space, they hesitated.
Sergio had overlooked one crucial detail: under FIBA rules, there was no defensive three-second violation.
That rule favored China immensely.
Even as an NBA Defensive Player of the Year, Marc Gasol's presence didn't compare to Yao Ming standing tall in the lane.
And with limited spacing, Lin Yi could comfortably cover two players at once.
Sun Yue wasn't an offensive threat, but his length and athleticism mattered. Beat him once, and he might still come flying in from behind.
Rubio finally made a smart decision. He attacked Wang Shipeng, China's weakest defender on paper.
But then he saw Yao Ming waiting.
The layup wasn't there.
As for the pull-up jumper?
Rubio went for it.
Clang.
The miss bounced straight into Yao Ming's hands.
Yao immediately outlet-passed to Lin Yi.
On the sideline, Coach Sergio froze.
Wait—wasn't he a forward?
Lin Yi caught the ball, glanced upcourt, and pushed the tempo like a guard who'd done it his whole life.
Running the offense through Lin Yi had been a decision made during joint training.
The Spanish players noticed Sergio's stunned expression—and felt a little embarrassed for him.
After all, they already knew from their time in the NBA that Lin could play guard.
Fernandez didn't even attempt a steal.
He'd learned his lesson.
Once Lin Yi crossed half-court, it was the same familiar look. A 2–3 zone was only effective if the middle stayed clogged, but China had too many bigs.
Spain reacted quickly, abandoning the zone and switching to man-to-man.
Marc Gasol finally took the assignment himself, settling into a low stance, eyes locked in.
Lin Yi glanced at him, then casually held up three fingers while dribbling with his other hand—no words, just intent.
Under FIBA rules, the line was shorter. For Lin Yi, that detail barely mattered. In the NBA, he was already comfortable pulling up from well beyond this range.
This felt like practice.
Marc stepped up, careful not to give up a highlight. Lin Yi dipped low and snapped into a crossover. Marc slid with him—half a beat late.
Another change of direction.
Then the Shammgod.
Marc lunged, lost his balance, and dropped to the floor.
The arena gasped.
Lin Yi rose calmly, feet set, no rush at all, and let the shot go.
[Green Giant]
0–6.
The arena erupted.
..
Marc Gasol pushed himself up, jaw tight.
It wasn't the fall that bothered him.
It was how clean it had been.
No rush. No wasted motion. Lin Yi had read him from the first step, waited for his weight to shift, then took everything away in one smooth sequence.
Marc exhaled slowly and glanced at the scoreboard.
Down again.
A hint of regret started sneaking in, but he snapped out of it.
He wasn't going to the best Marc Gasol if he bowed out every time he met this mountain.
Across the court, Lin Yi didn't look back. He was already jogging toward defense, expression calm, as if nothing special had happened.
That annoyed Marc more than the fall ever could.
...
On the sideline, the Spanish bench went quiet.
Assistant coaches leaned toward each other, speaking in low, urgent tones. One of them gestured toward Marc, then toward the weak side, clearly asking whether they needed to send help earlier.
Sergio rubbed his forehead, eyes never leaving the court.
"We can't let him play in space like this," he muttered. "Not against a man of his size who moves like a guard."
A timeout card hovered in his hand—but he hesitated.
Call it too early, and you admit you're rattled.
Don't call it, and Lin Yi keeps building momentum.
Sergio looked back up just in time to see Lin Yi slide into help defense, arms wide, voice steady, already organizing his teammates.
He let the card fall back to his side.
"…Next possession," he said quietly.
...
On Chinese television, Yu Jia's voice jumped an octave.
"There it is—Lin Yi from deep! That range doesn't change just because the court does."
Su Junyang laughed.
"This is why Spain can't sit in a zone. Once China's big men stretch the floor, you're forced into impossible matchups."
Spain tried to answer immediately. Fernandez cut hard toward the rim, slipping past his man—but Lin Yi chased him down from behind.
Fernandez twisted midair, switching to a reverse layup to avoid Yao Ming.
It didn't matter.
Lin Yi's hand met the ball cleanly against the glass.
Sun Yue secured the rebound and fired the outlet ahead. Lin Yi was already sprinting.
Spain had no choice.
A quick tactical foul stopped the break.
Pau Gasol watched Lin Yi walk toward the sideline to inbound the ball and frowned slightly. His brother wasn't the only one trying to figure out the moving puzzle, but he felt helpless as well.
The ball came back to Lin at the top.
No hesitation.
Another pull-up.
Swish.
0–9.
Yao Ming glanced at Lin Yi, then finally understood why he was confused earlier when asked how the Knicks usually played.
Because sometimes, the answer really was that simple.
Just give him the ball—and let him go to work.
. . .
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