"What?!"
The sharp shout cut through the entire practice facility. Heads snapped toward the sideline. Players who had been running drills slowed to a stop, sweat dripping, chests heaving. Lin Yi stood frozen near the edge of the court, phone pressed tightly to his ear, his face twisted in shock and alarm.
He was supposed to be on a water break. Not this.
A few teammates raised their hands.
"Yo, what's going on?"
"You good, Lin?"
He lifted one hand, signaling for them to give him a moment. Turning slightly away, he pressed the phone closer to his ear, voice low and tense.
On the other end, Sharon Carter spoke calmly but seriously, explaining what had happened during Game 3.
Lin listened in silence at first, jaw tightening with every word. Then his voice broke through, sharp with frustration.
"Why didn't you call me earlier?"
There was a brief pause on the line.
"Elizabeth didn't want you to know right away," Sharon replied honestly. "She said you were already under enough pressure trying to reach the Finals. She didn't want to distract you."
Lin looked down at the polished court floor, silent. His free hand clenched into a fist at his side.
What did I do to deserve this woman? He thought. I'm so fucking lucky.
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to regain composure.
"How is she now?" he asked, voice quieter. "Does she need to go to the hospital?"
"She's been checked already," Sharon assured him. "The doctor came by this morning. Both she and the baby are physically fine. She's emotionally shaken, but stable."
Lin closed his eyes for a moment, relief washing over him.
"Alright," he said finally. "Just… make sure she's okay. If anything happens to her, I...I wouldn't know what to do."
"Yes, sir. Madam will be well taken care of."
"Thank you, Sharon."
He ended the call and stood motionless for several seconds, staring at the phone in his hand.
A voice came from behind him.
"Why the long face, man?"
Klay Thompson had walked over without him noticing. The rest of the team was still watching, waiting; the practice completely halted.
Lin sighed deeply and turned to face them. His voice was heavy as he explained what had happened.
The gym fell into a heavy silence.
Then it exploded.
"Fuck Anderson!" Tyson Chandler roared, slamming the basketball down so hard it bounced nearly to the rafters.
"We should run up on that motherfucker!" someone else shouted.
Chris Paul stepped closer, concern clear on his face. "How is she?"
"She's okay," Lin answered, voice steady but strained. "Just shaken up."
The tension eased slightly, but the anger remained.
Danny Green shook his head. "Still… her seeing you go down like that on the court? That's rough, man."
Klay's expression hardened with determination. He stepped forward and placed a hand on Lin's shoulder.
"This ends in Miami," he said firmly. "We're getting you back to New York without needing a Game 5. You came back for us in Game 3. Now we handle this one for you."
The rest of the team nodded, the energy in the gym shifting from shock to focused intensity.
From the sideline, head coach Mike D'Antoni watched the scene with quiet pride. He leaned toward his brother and assistant coach, Dan.
"I'm proud of this group," he whispered. "This is a real family."
"Me too," Dan replied softly.
. . .
On the 28th, AmericanAirlines Arena, Miami.
The tension inside the arena was thick enough to choke on. What was supposed to be a hard-fought Eastern Conference Finals had turned into a nightmare for the Miami Heat. Against all expectations, the Knicks were on the verge of sweeping the defending champions.
The crowd, once loud and hostile, had grown quieter with every passing minute. A sense of disbelief hung over the building.
The Heat had come out desperate in the first half, playing their best basketball of the entire series. Fueled by pride and the fear of being swept at home, they led by seven points heading into the locker room. But that lead felt fragile, and everyone could sense it.
As soon as the third quarter began, the tension snapped.
Klay Thompson caught fire.
He hit five three-pointers in rapid succession: corners, wings, and the top of the key, each shot swishing through the net with cruel precision. The Knicks' bench erupted. The Heat players' faces tightened with visible frustration. Ray Allen, watching from the court, could only stare as the younger sharpshooter dismantled everything in front of him.
The arena grew louder, but now the noise favored the visitors. The Knicks' confidence, which had skyrocketed after Game 3, was on full display. Every pass was crisp. Every rotation was sharp. The defensive pressure was relentless.
LeBron James, who had been carrying an enormous burden all series, began to show signs of exhaustion and irritation. His teammates looked lost. The anxiety on the Heat bench was palpable—shoulders slumped, heads down, quiet arguments breaking out.
With the lead suddenly ballooning to twenty points early in the fourth quarter, LeBron walked over to the sideline and asked to be taken out. The King sat on the bench with a towel over his head, isolated and silent. The once-dominant Miami Big Three had been reduced to spectators watching their season collapse.
In the Knicks' huddle during a timeout, the atmosphere was electric but controlled. The players exchanged intense looks.
"This is it," Klay said quietly, voice tight with focus. "We close this tonight. No Game 5. No more chances for them."
Lin Yi nodded, his expression hard. The memory of Elizabeth's scare in Game 3 still burned in his chest. He had promised himself he would end this series quickly and get back to her. That promise fueled every movement he made.
From the sideline, Mike D'Antoni watched his team with pride. The Knicks were no longer just playing basketball; they were playing with a mission.
As the final minutes ticked down, the Heat's frustration boiled over. Ray Allen shook his head bitterly, clearly regretting his decision to join Miami. He had barely gotten any clean looks all series. The Knicks' wings, Danny Green and especially Klay, had completely neutralized him.
When the buzzer finally sounded, the Knicks had completed the sweep.
The AmericanAirlines Arena fell into stunned silence, broken only by the celebrating Knicks players. LeBron James walked slowly toward the tunnel without looking back, his lonely figure speaking volumes. The Chosen One had given everything, yet it still wasn't enough.
The King had played almost flawless basketball throughout the series, putting up near triple-doubles night after night, only to be let down by his supporting cast. Lin Yi felt a genuine pang of respect mixed with sympathy.
He gave everything… and still lost.
In another timeline, James was supposed to win two straight titles here in Miami. But now, everything had changed.
The moment the series ended, congratulations from Cleveland began pouring in. Lin Yi had a strong feeling that The Decision 2 was almost inevitable. Going back to the Cavaliers might no longer be an option for James.
"Lin! We're going to the Finals, man!" Klay Thompson sprinted over and jumped onto his back, nearly knocking the thinking Lin Yi off balance.
Lin Yi caught him with a tired but genuine laugh, steadying the smaller guard. The pure joy radiating from Klay warmed something deep inside him. He felt proud of the young man, not just for his 35-point explosion tonight, but for how far he had come.
"Let's congratulate the New York Knicks on winning the 2013 NBA Eastern Conference Championship!"
The arena announcer's voice echoed through AmericanAirlines Arena. Under the stunned and envious stares of Miami fans, the Knicks players received their Eastern Conference Championship hats and T-shirts on the court. Lin Yi placed the cap on his head and looked up at the rafters, his expression calm on the surface but stormy within.
Elizabeth… I'm coming home soon.
The Finals suddenly felt both incredibly important and strangely secondary. Winning a championship would be incredible, but getting back to her mattered more to him right now.
Yao Ming walked over and gave him a firm hug, both of them emotional. This was the first Finals for the Yao-Mc duo. Tracy McGrady was beaming like a kid. Chris Paul was laughing and shouting with the others, finally reaching the promised land after so many years of disappointment.
Lin Yi took it all in, a smile on his face.
He felt grateful. Grateful to his teammates for stepping up in this gam. Grateful to the coaching staff. Grateful that fate had given him another chance at greatness — this time with a family waiting for him at home.
As the team chanted "The Finals! Here come the Knicks!", Lin Yi raised his fist with them, but his mind was already flying back to New York.
The Eastern Conference belonged to them.
. . .
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