On December 31, the New York Knicks handled the Sacramento Kings without much stress. The game itself never felt close.
Before tipoff, Sacramento had already made headlines. The Kings finalized a deal that sent Ricky Rubio to Minnesota, while bringing in combo guard Tyreke Evans.
When Rubio first arrived in the league, Kings fans saw him as a franchise changer. The passing flair, the court vision, the confidence. It was easy to buy into it. The problem was the jumper. Once teams realized they could duck under screens without consequences, the tone shifted. Opposing guards would practically wave him toward the perimeter.
This season, the shooting still had not leaped. Sacramento pivoted. Evans had put up loud numbers as a rookie, and the front office decided to gamble on that upside again.
Minnesota, meanwhile, already had a pass-first guard and felt Rubio fit their timeline better. Both sides walked away thinking they had won.
On New Year's Day, back at Madison Square Garden, the Knicks settled unfinished business against the Portland Trail Blazers. The earlier loss still lingered. This time, there was no surprise ending.
Chris Paul hounded Damian Lillard from the opening possession. Every screen was chased, every pull-up contested. Lillard never found rhythm.
Up front, Lin Yi took away LaMarcus Aldridge's comfort spots with disciplined positioning and well-timed help. By the fourth quarter, the game was effectively done. The Knicks opened 2013 with authority.
On January 2, the NBA announced its December awards. Lin Yi was named Eastern Conference Player of the Month again. He had led the MVP ladder all season, and talk of a three-peat was no longer whispered. It was discussed openly.
LeBron James and Kevin Durant followed him in the rankings. Stephen Curry sat seventh, quietly building his case.
People had started calling the 2009 class the Silver Generation. James Harden was thriving in Houston. DeMar DeRozan had earned the stay in Toronto. Teams that had traded away their picks that year were not enjoying the hindsight.
Even without Lin Yi, that draft would have produced multiple All-Stars and future MVP-level players. Timing helped. When Lin Yi and Curry entered the league, the spotlight was still dominated by the Lakers-Celtics rivalry. Several franchises were rebuilding. The 2009 group had space to grow.
Curry claimed Western Conference Player of the Month for December as well. The two of them winning on opposite coasts became a trending topic among Wildcats fans.
Curry averaged 25.7 points, 8.4 assists, and 4.7 rebounds in December, shooting nearly 49 percent from the field and 44.5 percent from three. Efficient and confident.
The Warriors sat third in the West. Their offense drew attention every night.
Commissioner David Stern seemed pleased. More teams were leaning into pace and scoring, and the product looked sharper. His assistant thought Stern could be stubborn about certain traditions. Still, the league's direction was clear.
While LeBron supporters kept hoping for an MVP surge, Rookie of the Year felt close to decided. Even after a quiet New Year's performance, Lillard remained the most consistent first-year player in the 2012 class. Anthony Davis showed promise, but he was still adjusting to the league's speed and strength.
. . .
On January 3, the Knicks hosted the San Antonio Spurs.
Before the game, Gregg Popovich announced that Tim Duncan, Tony Parker, and Manu Ginobili would all sit. This came despite a warning from the league office about resting star players.
Popovich faced the media with a straight face.
"Tim twisted his ankle in practice," he said. "Tony's dealing with stomach issues. Manu hurt his knee going down the stairs."
Reporters tried not to smile.
The Spurs had dealt with real injuries all season, but nobody doubted Popovich's long game. Younger fans talked about tanking if things went sideways. Older fans laughed and started praising the Knicks, Mavericks, and Heat in exaggerated tones, calling San Antonio finished.
Lin Yi was not buying it.
He knew Popovich valued health over headlines. So did the Knicks. By halftime, the starters had built control, and the rotation tightened. The Fried Chicken Brothers were parked on the bench early in the second half.
After the game, Popovich walked over and tapped Lin Yi on the shoulder.
"Keep going," he said. "I think you can break that 72-win record."
Lin Yi met his eyes. "We'll try our best."
Both smiled politely.
Inside, neither believed the other for a second.
Popovich would love to see New York chase history all season. A record pursuit meant heavier minutes and sharper wear by spring.
Lin Yi understood that, too. Still, with the depth on this roster and a bit of luck, chasing the best record in league history and winning the Title was achievable.
. . .
After beating the San Antonio Spurs, the Knicks flew to Orlando on the 5th and took the opportunity to rotate heavily. The Yao and McGrady duo, who rested for nearly ten days, finally got an extended run together again.
Yao Ming anchored the second unit with 18 points and 6 rebounds. Tracy McGrady added 14 points and 5 assists, orchestrating the offense with that familiar calm rhythm. The two of them led a decisive bench surge that broke the game open in the third quarter.
The new year only strengthened New York's momentum. Out west, something even more surprising was happening.
Kobe had actually taken Lin Yi's advice.
After Christmas, the Los Angeles Lakers coaching staff was stunned. During a film session, Kobe calmly suggested trimming his minutes and adjusting the offense to move the ball more.
Mike Brown blinked twice to make sure he had heard correctly.
"You're serious?" he asked.
Kobe nodded. "I don't need 40 minutes to make a point. Let's keep it tighter."
Brown, who had coached LeBron James before, recognized the shift immediately. He agreed without hesitation.
Upstairs, team owner Jerry Buss received the report through Jim. Lying in a hospital bed, he listened quietly, then closed his eyes.
"So he finally figured it out," he murmured with a smile.
Over the Lakers' next six games, Kobe averaged just 31 minutes. His shot attempts dropped from 23 a night to around 15. His scoring dipped to 23.4 points per game, but his assists climbed to 8.1.
The ball moved. Teammates touched it more. The offense breathed.
With Steve Nash coming off the bench in a more controlled role, he avoided the injury that once seemed inevitable. In interviews, Nash kept praising Kobe.
" It's all Kobe," Nash said. "He is leading us well."
Ironically, once Kobe loosened his grip, the respect only increased. The locker room felt lighter. The city felt calmer.
At home, Vanessa noticed the difference immediately. Kobe was less irritable after games, less restless at night. He still woke up early, but the edge had softened.
Lin Yi, watching from afar, breathed a sigh of relief. Some probabilities were better left unspoken.
Recently, Kobe had been calling Lin Yi more often.
"Lin," Kobe said during one late-night call, "I feel better. Lighter. You might've been right."
Lin Yi leaned back against his headboard. "That's because you're not trying to win every possession by yourself anymore."
There was a short pause.
"You know," Kobe continued. "I am coming for the title."
The Lakers were on a small winning streak. The confidence was creeping back.
Lin Yi did not sugarcoat it.
"No," he said plainly. "Take care of your body. Think long term. This roster isn't winning a championship in the next few years."
Silence.
"Scared?" Kobe taunted.
Lin Yi exhaled. He could not exactly explain front office tensions or ownership uncertainty over the phone.
"Because I'm not letting you," he replied seriously. "Unless you come to New York and ride with us, that sixth ring isn't happening."
Kobe scoffed. "Keep talking."
"I'm serious," Lin Yi added. "You want another parade, you know where to find me."
The line went quiet for half a second.
Then came a short, sharp click.
Call ended.
Kobe stared at his phone, jaw tight.
"Sixty," he muttered to himself. "Next time we play in New York, I'm going for sixty."
He paused.
"No. Seventy."
From the kitchen, Vanessa called out, "Who are you arguing with now?"
"No one," Kobe replied.
She stepped into the hallway, arms crossed. "You were smiling after Christmas. Now you're talking about seventy points in January. Which version are we getting?"
Kobe hesitated.
"Both," he said finally.
Vanessa shook her head, half amused, half resigned. If he were back to plotting 4 a.m. workouts and revenge games, she might need better ear protection.
In New York, Lin Yi checked his phone, saw the missed call notification from Kobe, and smiled.
Some things never really changed.
. . .
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