No Knicks fans were sitting inside Madison Square Garden anymore.
Everyone was on their feet.
Thousands of home fans stood together because they were waiting to witness history.
Years ago, Magic Johnson amazed the basketball world by proving that a player over two meters tall could organize an offense like a point guard.
Tonight, Lin Yi, standing 7 feet tall, was once again rewriting people's understanding of basketball.
He was not simply a center.
He was not simply a point guard.
He was a rare breed that could do it all.
Every possession flowed through him. Every open shot seemed to originate from his hands.
The dazzling passing display had completely captivated Madison Square Garden.
After the timeout, the Knicks had the ball.
Lin Yi moved to the high post to receive the pass, while the Spurs aggressively denied every other New York player. It was obvious that Popovich and the Spurs did not want to become another chapter in Lin Yi's highlight reel.
Lin Yi wasn't in a hurry.
He patiently surveyed the floor.
Then he noticed Klay Thompson's movement.
Without hesitation, he made the pass.
When Klay entered his shooting zone, he became Lin Yi's favorite assist machine.
During the timeout, the entire Knicks roster had already reached an agreement.
Once Lin Yi passed you the ball, you shot it.
Open.
Contested.
Double-teamed.
It didn't matter.
Shoot first.
Think later.
Marco Belinelli desperately rushed toward Klay.
Klay calmly raised his shooting arc even higher.
Belinelli's contest completely blocked Klay's vision.
The shot became a blind attempt.
It didn't matter. When Klay entered the zone, he was like Barry Bonds on steroids; every swing was a home run, and every shot was three points.
Swish.
Three points.
The Knicks' twenty-first three-pointer of the night.
And more importantly:
Assist number twenty-five.
A new franchise record.
The most assists in a single game in Knicks history.
Madison Square Garden exploded.
The cheers belonged to both Klay and Lin Yi.
On TNT, Charles Barkley practically shouted into his microphone.
"I told everybody! Every single year before Lin's birthday, he does something unbelievable!"
Kenny Smith stood up alongside Barkley.
"It's incredible. People were saying the Knicks played better team basketball without Lin. Well, look at tonight. Look at the quality of this offense since he came back."
Barkley nodded.
"Lin is the Knicks, and the Knicks are Lin. This is his team."
Standing beside them, Shaquille O'Neal suddenly experienced the feeling of surviving a disaster.
Shaq suddenly felt extremely fortunate that he had not made a bet with Barkley. Otherwise, the Big Aristotle would have suffered another painful defeat.
Twenty-five assists. Twenty-five.
Even Popovich was stunned.
For the first time all night, the old coach felt genuine regret.
You could stop Lin Yi from scoring.
You could throw double teams at him.
You could pack the paint.
But if he decided to become a passer?
Then the game became impossible.
Popovich had never seen such a player before.
...
After recording his twenty-fifth assist, Lin Yi glanced at the clock.
Just under three minutes remained in the third quarter.
He understood very clearly that no matter how thick-skinned he was, he could not play the entire fourth quarter simply to chase statistics.
The score after Klay's three had become:
108-67.
A forty-one-point lead.
There was a line that players could not cross.
You couldn't become Devin Booker.
Booker's future seventy-point game had produced incredible numbers, but not everyone respected the circumstances surrounding it.
If Lin Yi continued chasing assists during these final minutes of the third quarter, nobody would complain.
But if he played deep into the fourth quarter, criticism would immediately follow.
At his current level, Lin Yi no longer needed meaningless controversies.
"Three minutes."
"Five assists."
"A little difficult."
Lin Yi clenched his fists.
Twenty-five assists were impressive.
But greatness was built on greed.
How could someone become the greatest player in NBA history without a bit of greed?
Statistics were opportunities.
And opportunities did not come often.
Who knew when another game like tonight would happen?
On the next possession, the Spurs missed again.
Lin Yi secured his fifteenth rebound.
The Knicks instantly ran the floor.
Everyone was actively moving, trying to help their leader make history.
To San Antonio's credit, their transition defense was excellent.
Honestly, had the Spurs defended with this intensity earlier in the game, the score probably would not have become this ugly.
Sometimes people truly discover their full potential only after being pushed to the edge.
Markieff Morris stepped out and received Lin Yi's pass.
He rose for a mid-range jumper.
Clang.
The shot bounced away.
Madison Square Garden collectively groaned.
But before the disappointment could settle, a giant shadow appeared.
Lin Yi soared over Tiago Splitter.
Offensive rebound.
Splitter wanted to scream.
Because Lin Yi's rebounding was simply bullying at this point.
For players like Splitter, whose vertical leap barely required leaving the floor, these high-bouncing rebounds were nightmares.
Lin Yi grabbed the ball and immediately flipped it backward.
Livingston finished the layup.
Assist number twenty-six.
On the sidelines, Chris Paul's heart began to ache.
As a point guard, this felt personal.
If Lin Yi really broke Scott Skiles' single-game assist record tonight, wouldn't that be a slap in the face to every point guard in basketball?
Lin Wants Every Statistic Yi would be his new nickname.
Meanwhile, Spurs reserve guard Cory Joseph slowly dribbled the ball up the court.
For the San Antonio reserves, there was only one goal now:
Please let the third quarter end.
Unfortunately, the Knicks had other ideas.
They suddenly launched a full-court press.
Joseph panicked.
He dribbled.
He spun.
He escaped one defender.
Then another.
Before he realized what had happened, he had driven all the way into the paint.
The Knicks weren't actually trying to force a turnover.
They simply wanted San Antonio to attack as quickly as possible.
Joseph looked around.
Nobody was guarding him.
If he didn't shoot, he would probably be roasted by his own coaches.
So he took the layup.
Made it.
Then looked at the shot clock.
Thirteen seconds.
Only thirteen seconds.
Joseph looked up at the ceiling.
This was basketball terrorism.
Even Popovich understood what the Knicks were doing.
But if the Spurs deliberately held the ball for twenty-four seconds every possession, they would become the laughingstocks after the game.
Popovich didn't particularly care about criticism; however, Cory Joseph was an honest young player. The old coach could not ask him to become basketball's most hated man for one night.
After all, he couldn't exactly send Tony Parker back into the game simply to dribble out possessions.
TP had his own reputation to protect.
If this had been rookie Parker, perhaps.
But the current Parker?
An NBA champion.
An NBA Finals MVP.
Some things even Popovich could not ask him to do.
. . .
. .
.
With 37 seconds remaining in the third quarter, Lin Yi found Danny Green cutting toward the basket. Green finished the layup with ease.
Assist number twenty-nine.
75-119.
The Knicks had nearly reached 120 points before the fourth quarter even began.
Terrifying.
When New York's shooters found their rhythm, this team became almost impossible to stop. On the Spurs' next possession, Cory Joseph slowly brought the ball up the floor, feeling somewhat conflicted.
After all, he had just used a simple crossover to beat Livingston, who had been applying full-court pressure.
The problem was that Joseph increasingly felt that Livingston had let him go on purpose.
Of course he did.
Livingston's entire mission was to force Joseph to attack quickly. After being beaten off the dribble, Shaun even stumbled dramatically, acting as though he had completely lost his balance.
To be honest, Livingston's defensive performance deserved an Oscar.
If you handed this role to a young actor, he probably would have ruined it.
A veteran was still a veteran.
Joseph once again completed an uncontested fast-break layup.
77-119.
In this quarter alone, Joseph had scored twelve points.
Every single basket had come on a one-man fast break.
Meanwhile, Tony Parker sat on the bench, fighting back the tears in his eyes. He had fought through traps, double teams, and rotating defenders all night to score fourteen points. Joseph, meanwhile, was essentially participating in a layup drill.
Joseph used only ten seconds on the possession.
The Knicks immediately pushed the ball again.
This time, Klay suddenly stopped nearly two meters behind the three-point line.
He looked at Lin Yi.
His eyes seemed to say:
Trust me, bro.
This is my range.
Without hesitation, Lin Yi entrusted his record-breaking opportunity to Klay Splash Thompson.
The pass arrived.
The shot went up.
Swish.
Klay Thompson once again refused to disappoint him.
His ninth three-pointer of the night.
Assist number thirty.
Thirty assists.
Achieved.
The entire arena erupted.
Then something unexpected happened.
Cory Joseph brought the ball across half-court.
Livingston reached in and hit his arm.
Whistle.
Because the Knicks had already reached the foul limit, Joseph was heading to the free-throw line.
And then everyone suddenly realized something.
There was still time.
The Knicks would get one final possession.
At that moment, nobody cared whether Livingston's foul had been intentional.
Nobody cared about sportsmanship.
Nobody cared about the score.
Everyone cared about one thing.
Could Lin Yi break Scott Skiles' single-game assist record?
Coach D'Antoni shamelessly walked toward the officials and pretended to complain about the call.
Meanwhile, Livingston looked so upset that it almost seemed as though he wanted a technical foul.
Popovich was furious.
After tonight, he decided, he absolutely needed to speak with Joseph.
Young man.
You cannot be this honest in the NBA.
Joseph calmly made both free throws.
79-122.
6.9 seconds remained.
D'Antoni did not call a timeout.
This had been Lin Yi's decision.
Because some things, once deliberately arranged, often fell apart.
If it failed?
Nah, I'd win.
The Spurs, however, finally decided to defend seriously. They applied full-court pressure. Unfortunately, they made one final mistake. Splitter and Belinelli both rushed toward Lin Yi.
Livingston immediately recognized the opening.
From the baseline, he launched a high pass.
Lin Yi rose above everyone and secured the ball.
The moment he landed, he didn't dribble.
He simply hurled the ball toward the opposite end of the floor.
The Knicks quarterback unleashed a full-court strike.
Klay Thompson sprinted down the court.
Catch.
Layup.
Touchdown.
On TNT, Barkley grabbed his notebook, rolled it into the shape of a microphone, climbed onto the commentary desk, and shouted at the top of his lungs:
"Lin has broken the NBA single-game assist record!"
"Thirty-one assists!"
The buzzer sounded.
Madison Square Garden exploded.
The home fans, who had been standing for over three minutes, delivered another deafening standing ovation.
At long last, the Showtime had broken a historic record at Madison Square Garden. No on-the-road record-breaking bullshit.
"MVP!"
"MVP!"
"MVP!"
The chants rolled through the cathedral of basketball.
Lin Yi stood at center court, his jersey removed and raised high toward the crowd.
The giant No. 44 and the name "LIN Yi" faced the stands as twenty thousand fans erupted in deafening cheers.
At seven feet tall, he stood beneath the bright lights of Madison Square Garden like a monument, quietly soaking in the moment.
Around him, cameras flashed endlessly. Above him, the MVP chants rolled down from every level of the arena.
On this night, the man wearing No. 44 did not need to score fifty points.
Thirty-one assists were enough to make the entire city bow to its king.
And around the USA, the point guards quietly lowered their heads.
Because tonight, a seven-foot center had officially stolen the greatest night of a point guard's life.
. . .
. .
.
The promised Finals rematch.
The promised absence of two key Knicks players.
The promised battle between GDP and Lin Yi.
The promised struggle.
None of it happened.
There was no classic showdown.
No desperate comeback.
No heavyweight duel.
No Finals atmosphere.
On the night of November 15th, Madison Square Garden witnessed only three things:
The Knicks' flowing offense.
Lin Yi's supernatural passing.
And New York's utterly unreasonable three-point shooting.
The basketball moved faster than the Spurs could rotate. The passes arrived before the defense could react. The three-pointers fell before San Antonio could even raise a hand.
Popovich's carefully prepared game plan lasted barely a quarter.
The Finals rematch had turned into a passing clinic.
The championship battle had become a shooting exhibition.
When the final buzzer sounded, the scoreboard read:
100-148.
The Knicks secured their sixth consecutive victory to open the new season.
Lin Yi finished with a historic 31 assists.
The Knicks buried 24 three-pointers.
And Gregg Popovich suffered the worst defeat of his coaching career.
On TNT, even Charles Barkley struggled to find words.
"Thirty-one assists. One hundred forty-eight points. And they did all this without Chris Paul and Tyson Chandler. I fear for the league. For everyone. This man is only about to turn twenty-four."
Kenny Smith shook his head.
"Tonight wasn't basketball as we understand it."
As for Popovich, the old coach simply looked at the final score and sighed. The Spurs had prepared all night to stop Lin Yi from scoring. Instead, they watched him become the most terrifying point guard in basketball history.
Sometimes, the most frightening version of a superstar is not the one chasing points.
It is the one who decides to make everyone else score.
And on this November night, the Grim Reaper showed the entire league that a 7-foot center could dominate a game without scoring thirty points.
Thirty-one assists.
One hundred forty-eight points.
A new NBA record.
And one more unforgettable chapter in the ever-growing legend of the Birthday Phenomenon.
. . .
Alternate Title:The Birthday Phenomenon.
. . .
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