No one could have predicted that this highly anticipated Olympic semifinal would suddenly feel less like a basketball game—and more like a London music festival.
Band Name:In Tribute to the Great Kobe
Lead Singer: Lin Yi
Guitar: Tony Parker
Drums: Boris Diaw
Bass: Nicolas Batum
Keyboard: Sun Kuangzhu
At halftime, China somehow led France 25–24.
Yes—that was the halftime score.
Lower than a single quarter from the USA–Spain semifinal earlier that night.
This was a pure defensive grind.
For China, the Great Wall Defense made life miserable for Parker. Without defensive three seconds under FIBA rules, Yao Ming and Yi Jianlian didn't need to step out. As long as France's threes weren't falling, China's zone became suffocating.
France responded in kind. They mixed zone and man-to-man, constantly sending help at Lin Yi and Yao Ming the moment they put the ball on the floor. Chinese perimeter players were burning energy on defense, and their legs clearly weren't fresh enough to sustain consistent shooting.
After Lin Yi's early three, the rim seemed to turn hostile. Shots rolled around teasingly, then popped out one after another.
Oddly enough, the fans loved it.
Every stop felt earned. Every made three—on either side—sent waves through the crowd.
"The men's team has really emptied the tank tonight," Yu Jia said on CCTV. "There are still two quarters to go. I just hope they can hang on."
"This is a game that tests resolve," Yang Yi added. "They're not backing down. They're knocking on the door of the finals."
During halftime, Kevin Durant—watching courtside—finally saw his chance.
The moment Lin Yi cooled off, Durant quietly logged into his burner account: Russell.
He'd waited long enough.
Time to talk back.
On a major American basketball forum, Durant fired off a post titled:
"Rip Off the MVP Label—Lin Is Just a Box of Cupcakes."
He was proud of that one. Came up with it while eating cake with Westbrook.
Fingers flying, he continued:
"This is the Grim Reaper Lin—2-for-11 in the first half."
"After one lucky three, everyone started chanting MVP. Pathetic. Kevin Durant is the most efficient scorer in the league."
"As a totally objective Lin fan, I can also reveal that Lin privately admitted he's afraid of Kevin Durant."
Post.
Durant leaned back, satisfied.
Westbrook glanced over. "Kev, what are you smiling at?"
"Nothing," Durant replied calmly. "Just scrolling Twitter."
Back on the court, Yao Ming clapped Lin Yi on the back before the second half.
"Lin, keep shooting," Yao said quietly. "I've got the boards."
Lin Yi nodded.
Cold streaks didn't scare him. A scorer who hesitates isn't a scorer at all.
And he knew exactly what this game was about.
Whichever team found their rhythm from outside first—that team would take control.
We're not losing here, Lin Yi thought, scanning the arena awash in red.
For Chinese fans, the miracle—if it came—would be decided in these final two quarters.
As the teams returned to the floor, Lin Yi murmured under his breath:
"Stephen… I lied to you once."
"I said you were the best shooter."
"But every shooter believes one thing—
I'm the best."
China had possession to start the third quarter.
Sun Kuangzhu crossed half-court and swung the ball to Lin Yi.
Just as Yu Jia and Yang Yi were emphasizing patience—
Lin Yi caught it, glanced at Yao Ming sealing inside—
and pulled up from eight meters out.
The arena froze.
Yu Jia & Yang Yi: "..."
What is a shooter?
Miss ten in a row—
The eleventh still goes up without hesitation.
That's not arrogance. That's qualification.
Basketball isn't a children's game.
Miss it?
Shoot again.
Diaw barely reacted before—
Swish.
Clean.
Up in the stands, Durant's smile vanished instantly.
Before the commentators could even raise their voices, France inbounded quickly. Parker tried to answer with a three.
Miss.
Lin Yi secured the rebound, and in his mind, the system prompt flashed:
"Host is heating up. Activate: Unlimited Range · God Mode?"
Yes.
The meter spun.
The badge glowed.
Lin Yi crossed half-court and—without slowing—
rose again from nearly nine meters.
"What is he doing?!"
Diaw stood frozen.
Swish.
31–24.
Seven-point lead.
The arena went silent for half a second—then exploded.
A made shot is a good shot.
But this?
This was madness.
On Durant's forum post, American Lin fans flooded the comments at once. Even with eight hands, Durant wouldn't have been able to keep up.
Not that he tried.
Beside him, Anthony Davis jumped to his feet again, yelling, "MVP! MVP!"
This time, no one stopped him.
To Davis, those shots were sending a message:
Even if I miss my first ten—
every next one will make you nervous.
China struck first in the third quarter.
France missed again. Yao Ming grabbed the board and fired the outlet forward.
Lin Yi was already in range.
No hesitation.
Swish.
Another missile.
34–24.
Three ultra-deep threes in a row.
France's defensive structure collapsed on the spot.
"This is Lin Yi—my goodness!" Yu Jia ran a hand through his hair.
Across 9.6 million square kilometers, legs stood up with hands on his head.
Lin Yi, lead singer of In Tribute to the Great Kobe, had made his announcement:
The music festival was over.
God Mode activated.
...
The French team was swept aside in one overwhelming surge.
The barrage Lin Yi unleashed at the start of the third quarter didn't just stretch the lead—it broke France's rhythm completely.
From that point on, every time Lin Yi so much as lifted his hand, Diaw reacted like a startled bird, flinching before the move even came. The French defense was clearly overcompensating.
After forcing them to spread out with that explosive run, Lin Yi calmly shifted gears and went to work inside. In the third quarter alone, he dropped 19 points. Any lingering hope of a French comeback faded fast—it simply wasn't realistic anymore.
When the final buzzer sounded in the fourth quarter, Chinese fans at home and in the arena completely lost control.
"My Lin is unstoppable!"
"My Lin is dominant!"
"My Lin is unreal—cool, sharp, and straight-up ridiculous!"
"He's not human!"
After the game, Yao Ming pulled Lin Yi into a tight hug. The 226-centimeter giant looked like a kid in that moment.
Big Yao cried.
For him, this was the pinnacle. A moment he had chased for his entire career.
Yi Jianlian collapsed onto the floor, completely spent, his eyes red. The final score read 66–55. China had beaten France in the Olympic semifinals.
Even back at the 2010 Guangzhou Asian Games, when gold medals hung around everyone's necks, Wang Zhizhi had never cried the way he did tonight.
"The Chinese men's basketball team has advanced to the Olympic finals!"
"We will face—Team USA—in the final!"
Yu Jia's voice was hoarse. He hugged Yang Yi right there at the broadcast table, both of them openly emotional. When the camera cut back to the studio, several cameramen were wiping their eyes as they filmed.
"When victory arrives, when the cheers explode, when those shots save us—what else can we say except thank you?"
"There's a tactic called give the ball to Lin Yi. This is a player who was born to end games. You've made so many people fall back in love with basketball. You've made them cheer, cry, and believe again."
"If you're not a legend—then who is?"
After forcing those words out, host Yang Jian covered his face and broke down.
It was a sleepless night for Chinese fans.
Because the Chinese men's basketball team had done the unthinkable—they had reached the Olympic finals.
Weibo, Tieba, and Hupu all went down almost instantly.
...
"If we play China… who's guarding Lin?" Kobe asked casually after Team USA returned to their quarters.
Tyson Chandler and Blake Griffin both took a subtle step back. LeBron quietly twisted open a bottle of Gatorade. Anthony Davis thumped his chest, eager to take on his idol.
And then everyone looked at Durant.
Durant: "..."
Westbrook slapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, Kevin. I know you won't dodge it. Haven't you always wanted to play China in the finals? You can handle Lin."
Durant stared up at the ceiling, wondering if Westbrook was really his teammate.
Just minutes earlier, Durant's forum alt account—Russell—had been banned. Thankfully, Russell No.2 and Russell No.3 were still alive.
…
After the win, Lin Yi didn't try to claim all the credit in his interview.
"Making the finals isn't just about me," he said calmly. "Big Yao gave us stability and leadership, Yi Jianlian fought hard on the boards, Wang Zhizhi hit some huge shots, and everyone else defended their hearts out."
He knew public opinion back home was already exploding. Being put on a pedestal didn't mean much to him. What was his wouldn't disappear.
More importantly, he meant every word.
Basketball was never a one-man game.
Standing nearby, Yao Ming listened and nodded. There was a reason Lin Yi was so popular—he played the game the right way and spoke with sincerity. Someone like that was bound to be loved.
One interview wasn't nearly enough for the fans, so CCTV invited the entire team into the studio for an exclusive sit-down.
By the time it circled back to Lin Yi, he was actually blushing.
Yu Jia smiled and asked, "At the start of the third quarter, you took some… very bold shots. Why did you choose to play that way?"
Lin Yi thought for a moment. "Honestly? That's how I play in the NBA too."
Yu Jia: "..."
After a brief pause, he tried again. "Do you specifically train ultra-long-range three-pointers?"
"Yes," Lin Yi nodded. "About 200 a day."
"But most players don't train shots like that, do they?"
Lin Yi thought for another second. "That's because I'm Lin Yi," he said. "And they're most players."
Yu Jia: "..."
He could only clap.
Lin Yi smiled lightly. In the future, he knew, everyone would practice those shots. As defenses tightened and the three-point era fully arrived, hesitation would mean no shot at all.
Every elite skill was forced into existence.
Even legends had to adapt.
This was an era where being normal meant getting overwhelmed.
But none of that mattered tonight.
Tonight belonged to Chinese basketball.
The finals awaited.
. . .
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