The Knicks had barely played thirty seconds in the second quarter against the Celtics when a dead-ball stoppage gave Boston a chance to tweak their lineup.
Nate Robinson barely had time to get his bearings before Delonte West trotted in.
Doc Rivers, it seemed, had stumbled onto a spark — the classic blind cat catching a mouse moment.
And sure enough, West wasted no time making an impact. Almost immediately, Boston's offense found new life. Within the opening minutes of the second quarter, he had already poured in five points, shrinking the Knicks' lead to a single possession.
On the Knicks bench, Lin Yi, towel draped over his shoulders, was quietly sizing up the tattooed guard.
West's staying power in the NBA wasn't about his style choices — it was about his game. He was a gritty two-way player with a quick trigger and the agility to make life miserable for defenders. Lin Yi remembered that this particular season West's minutes had been limited by nagging injuries, but whenever he was healthy, he delivered.
The memories came rushing back — especially from that playoff series between the Celtics and the Heat, when West had been a thorn in Miami's side, averaging over ten points a night off the bench. Solid, efficient, and fearless.
Of course, there was always the other side of the coin. West's temperament was… combustible. A streak of volatility, coupled with his struggles with bipolar disorder, had put a ceiling on his career.
But on this night, Doc Rivers could sense the momentum shift. He doubled down, sending in Ray Allen to join West.
That was the one-two punch. Unlike Rondo, West could score from deep. And that meant the Knicks couldn't sag off him the way they could against the pass-first point guard. The problem was, New York's second unit was in the middle of a scoring drought. Livingston's mid-range game wasn't quite there yet, and without Rowe knocking down shots, the bench had to live and die by its defense.
As the Celtics kept closing the gap, D'Antoni was on the verge of repeating an old coaching mistake — riding the slump too long. Fortunately, Lin Yi leaned over and gave him a quick reminder.
This was the regular season, sure, but against a team like Boston, you needed to grind them down over four quarters. No easy knockouts here.
.
In Miami, James and Wade were watching and taking notes.
"See? Space the floor, and their defense isn't airtight," James said, eyes glued to the screen.
Wade nodded. "Yep."
.
In the second quarter, Rivers just kept West out there. And it worked. Garnett checked back in, stepped right up t o Lin Yi, and calmly drained a jumper over him.
KG's trademark snarl said it all — the "Big Ticket" was locked in.
By halftime, the Celtics had whittled the Knicks' lead down to just two points, 51–49.
..
After halftime, the Knicks wasted no time in making their adjustments. Shane Battier was sent in to take on Paul Pierce in the third quarter—a move designed less to shut The Truth down completely and more to grind him down over time.
The Knicks' game plan was clear: wear the Celtics down, possession by possession, and keep enough in the tank for a strong closing quarter. Gallinari would get his run with Lin Yi in the fourth, but for now, the focus was on defense and patience.
.
In front of his TV, LeBron James sat forward, arms crossed, irritation creeping into his voice.
"The Knicks… man, they've got way too many guys who can lock you up," he muttered.
It wasn't an exaggeration. The Knicks' forwards rotated on him like they were running on adrenaline shots. Every time he turned, there was another defender in his face—sometimes two—leaning on him, hanging on his arms, contesting every move.
What stung more was the feeling that the league wasn't giving him the same whistle anymore. In 2010–11, his free-throw attempts had dropped to nearly half what they used to be. In the playoffs last year, he averaged just 7.4 per game—down from 12.8 in '07–08 and 14.2 in '08–09.
Wade, sitting next to him, understood it too.
"These Knicks wings are like wolves," Wade said. "One-on-one, they're a nightmare. And it's not just the matchup—they're making us work on both ends."
It was the kind of grind that wore on a team like Miami, whose success came from defensive stops turning into lightning-fast counters. But against a backcourt led by Chauncey Billups—a guy who'd averaged just 1.2 turnovers with the Knicks—that transition game would barely get off the ground.
.
At Madison Square Garden, the crowd roared as Lin Yi and Billups ran a high pick-and-roll. Billups pulled up and drilled a cold-blooded jumper.
Delonte West had been doing his best defensively, but Lin Yi knew that guy couldn't carry that pace for the rest of the quarters.
Doc Rivers, frowning, swapped Rondo back in to try and change the tempo. Rondo, perhaps stung by earlier criticism, immediately took a mid-range jumper—his career-long two-point percentage sitting at a modest 38.8%. This time, it dropped in.
Still, Billups didn't bite. He kept sagging off, daring Rondo to try it again. The Knicks were happy to live with that gamble—Rondo wasn't about to chuck up 10 long jumpers in a night.
Meanwhile, Shane Battier hit back-to-back threes from the top of the arc. For a guy averaging under six points per game that season, it was a reminder of why he was on the floor: spacing, discipline, and making the most of open looks. Lin Yi had seen it before—back in the Yao–McGrady days, you left Battier open at your peril.
When the Celtics saw the gap growing again, Rivers called a timeout and tried to rally his group.
.
"The Knicks' bench is solid too," James admitted reluctantly, still watching from home.
He hated to say it, but it was true. Every time he looked, the Knicks seemed to turn role players into weapons. In Cleveland, in Miami, he'd often felt like his teammates weren't playing up to their potential. Was it the coaching? Maybe. D'Antoni had a history of doing this—turning guys like Boris Diaw and Raja Bell into key pieces.
.
Out of the timeout, Boston's veterans made one more push. Pierce found his rhythm, Ray Allen knocked down a contested three right in the face of the Knicks' own Ray Allen, and Garnett—ever the Big Ticket—clung to Lin Yi like a shadow on defense.
By the end of the third, the Celtics had clawed back to within seven, 85–78.
Lin Yi wiped sweat from his brow, glanced at the exhausted Garnett, and nodded in satisfaction. Kg was still snarling, but his legs were heavy. The third quarter had done its work. Lin Yi caught D'Antoni's eye and gave a subtle nod. Time to close.
To start the fourth, the Knicks rolled out their "one big, four small" unit: Lin Yi with Gallinari, Wilson Chandler, Stephenson, and Lou Williams. Speed, spacing, and just enough muscle to protect the paint.
...
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