The city was already loud before tip-off. Vendors sold jerseys and foam fingers. Drums rolled through the streets, firecrackers popped, and waves of fans in Knicks No. 44 jerseys flowed toward Madison Square Garden. Basketball had taken over the night.
In Manhattan, one commercial street hung a bold banner, promising half-price if the Knicks won it all. It was not just support, it was belief.
Local TV crews fanned out for street interviews.
A young female reporter stopped a group of loud Knicks fans. "Knicks in six or sweep?" she asked.
"Six? Nah, we sweeping the Spurs too!" one fan shouted, waving a giant foam finger. "Lin Yi is unstoppable! We got the whole city behind us!"
Nearby, a Spurs fan in a Duncan jersey shook his head with a calm smile. "Y'all are loud, but Timmy and Pop have been here before. Respect the process."
Another Knicks supporter jumped in: "Process this — we got Lin Yi, CP3, and the whole squad! New York is back!"
The reporter laughed. "The energy here is insane tonight!"
At 7:30 PM, something unusual happened. The lights across New York began to dim, building anticipation. Minutes later, aerial footage from local TV captured the moment. Across the city, lights flickered back on in coordinated patterns, forming a message:
"Go build a dynasty, Knicks!"
From every direction, streams of light pointed toward Madison Square Garden, like the entire city was guiding the team forward.
[Image]
This was Lin Yi's second trip to the NBA Finals.
The Knicks had reached this stage for the second time in three years.
Two years earlier, they stood on top in Dallas.
Now, they were back, chasing it again.
. . .
Inside the arena, the buzz was even louder.
Celebrity Row was packed.
Spike Lee sat courtside in his signature glasses and Knicks gear, arguing playfully with Ben Stiller. Mary J. Blige waved to fans. Jimmy Fallon clapped along to the music.
Even Jay-Z and Beyoncé were spotted in a premium suite, adding star power to the night.
The camera panned across the sold-out crowd during a broadcast break.
Charles Barkley's voice boomed over the broadcast: "Look at this place! Madison Square Garden is rocking tonight!"
The energy shifted the moment the DJ took control. The crowd snapped into Finals mode.
The player introductions built slowly, each title raising the volume higher:
"The Grim Reaper of New York…" "The King of the East Coast…" "Mr. Showtime himself…"
Then the voice exploded:
"LIN— — — — YI!"
"MVP! MVP! MVP!"
Even Tim Duncan turned his head.
The chant shook the building. Even Tim Duncan, standing across the court, turned his head to look.
Duncan needed no introduction. A future Hall of Famer, multiple-time champion, and one of the greatest power forwards to ever play the game. He had seen dynasties rise and fall, taken crowns from the best, and remained the quiet anchor of the Spurs. Yet here he was again, leading San Antonio back to the Finals for the second straight year — steady as ever, a true Stone Buddha.
On the other side stood the Knicks.
21 versus 44.
As Lin Yi walked toward the scorer's table for his usual pregame ritual, a large hand suddenly pressed down gently on top of his head.
He froze.
Tim Duncan stood there, smiling softly.
Lin Yi recovered quickly and reached up, rubbing Duncan's famously bald head in return. The arena erupted in laughter and cheers. Duncan paused for a second, then let out a deep, genuine laugh.
They shook hands warmly.
"Good luck," Duncan said. "May the best team win."
"Same to you," Lin Yi replied with respect.
Cameras flashed nonstop, capturing the light-hearted, respectful moment between two superstars.
. .
During warm-ups, Chris Paul stood on the court, eyes wide with a new kind of focus.
"We misunderstood Tyson," he said quietly.
Yao Ming and Tracy McGrady exchanged knowing glances. Nearby, Tyson Chandler wore a satisfied smile — he had been waiting for this exact reaction.
Days earlier, when they had asked him what the Finals felt like, Chandler had said: "You'll understand when you get here."
They hadn't liked that answer then.
Now they understood perfectly.
The difference was impossible to ignore.
The NBA Finals were being broadcast to over 200 countries in 60 languages. A massive 40-foot broadcast truck sat outside with fiber and satellite connections. More than 30 international media crews filled the arena, turning the night into a global event.
The Larry O'Brien Trophy sat gleaming on a table nearby. Both teams kept stealing glances at it.
Neither side planned on letting go.
. .
Shaquille O'Neal leaned in. "And look who just arrived. The queen of MSG — Elizabeth Olsen, Lin Yi's fiancée, showing off that baby bump. She's been the good luck charm all playoffs when she attends."
The camera zoomed in on Elizabeth, seated a few rows behind the Knicks bench in the company of Sharon.
Her brown hair fell softly over her shoulders, and a small but six-month-old baby bump was visible under her custom Knicks jersey. She smiled brightly, blew a kiss toward the camera, and mouthed "Go Knicks!" The crowd cheered loudly.
[Image]
. .
Back on the court, the starting lineups were moments away.
Lin Yi finished his warm-up and jogged toward the bench. He spotted Elizabeth immediately. Without hesitation, he walked over to the sideline where she sat.
She wanted to stand but was settled back into her seat by Lin and Sharon. Lin Yi reached into his jersey and pulled out a silver broken-heart necklace. He gently removed half of it from around his neck and placed it around hers, closing the clasp with care.
"For safety," he said softly, his hand resting briefly on her bump. "Wear this until I come back with the win."
Elizabeth's eyes softened. She touched the necklace and smiled up at him. "I'll keep it safe. Now go win the game, superstar."
He leaned down and kissed her forehead tenderly, then pressed one more light kiss to her lips. The nearby cameras caught the sweet moment, and the arena let out a collective "Awww."
Lin Yi gave her one last look — full of love and quiet determination — before jogging back onto the court.
Before tip-off, Gregg Popovich and Mike D'Antoni shared a brief, polite embrace on the sideline. It looked civil, but that wasn't fooling anyone. The tension between the two coaches was thick.
Everything in the building tightened.
This was the Finals. The final chapter of the 2012-2013 season.
Lin Yi lowered his voice, matching the tone of the arena.
"Let's go— — — —!!"
The giant screen inside Madison Square Garden lit up, rolling out the starting lineups as both teams stepped onto the court one by one.
Knicks:
Tyson Chandler
Markieff Morris
Lin Yi
Danny Green
Chris Paul.
Spurs:
Tiago Splitter
Tim Duncan
Andrei Kirilenko
Jimmy Butler
Tony Parker.
Broadcast calls echoed across the arena and beyond.
"ABC..."
"ESPN..."
"TNT..."
"China Central Television..."
"beIN Sports..."
"Argentina National Television..."
Different languages layered over each other, turning the moment into something global.
At center court, Lin Yi rose for the opening tip.
The ball went his way.
The arena erupted.
Even a simple jump ball felt electric. Charles Barkley could not hold back. "Lin might have the highest jump ball success rate ever."
Next to him, Shaquille O'Neal tilted his head slightly, quiet for once.
Something about that comment did not sit right.
If the Knicks won it all, Barkley would probably start rewriting history again. That thought alone was enough to bother him.
Second-best center? Behind Lin Yi?
That made no sense.
Lin Yi was not even a real center.
The thought lingered longer than O'Neal wanted.
On the court, Chris Paul brought the ball up.
The Spurs' defense matched expectations. A mix of zone and man, shifting with purpose. Kirilenko stayed attached to Lin Yi, using length and timing to deny the entry pass.
His career had taken a different turn here in San Antonio. Instead of fading, he had found rhythm again.
Paul slowed the pace, waiting for the screen.
The screen came.
Paul crossed over, slipping past Tony Parker, but the lane closed quickly. Duncan stepped up, reading the play early. Parker recovered just in time.
Ten seconds left on the shot clock.
Paul swung the ball out.
Lin Yi caught it on the wing.
No hesitation.
He drove straight into Kirilenko.
The contact was clean but heavy. Kirilenko absorbed it, though the impact showed. For a brief second, he was unbalanced.
Lin Yi used that moment.
One step back.
Turn and fade.
The release was smooth.
The shot dropped clean through the net.
0 to 2.
"Lin gets the first points of the Finals," Barkley said, voice rising.
"Perfect form," Kenny Smith added.
O'Neal reached up and rubbed his head, still searching for something to criticize.
He found nothing.
. . .
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